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binxyu · 4 years ago

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Desire. The word of many meanings. Lust? Money? People desire what they can not have. You? You desired power. The power to hurt those who had wronged you. San? He desired to have you and if offering you your desire would get him that then he was going to give it.

>>Pairing: Choi San (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | demon!san x power hungry!reader

>>Word Count: 3.6k

>>Genre: Oneshot / Smut

>>Warnings/Kinks: Demonic themes, yandere themes, bondage, branding, biting, blood play, choking, cockwarming, corruption, creampie, degrading, fingering, marking, murder (graphic), oral (receiving), overstimulation, size kink, slapping, and spitting/saliva

“Do it”.

The voice rang in your head as it always did. It was similar to a little devil on your shoulder. Someone telling you to do the worst you could do.

“Come on, sweetheart. You know you want to”.

You closed your eyes, the gun shaking in your grip. You had nothing against this person but the voice in your head knew how much you enjoyed the thrill.

The thrill of pulling the trigger.

The thrill of having the power to do so and end someone else’s life.

“We had a deal, baby. Each kill I help you with in your favor will result in one kill for me. Kill him”.

Your finger felt controlled, a silent pull to just come forward a little. Just enough to send a bullet into the man’s chest.

He looked at you with such pleading eyes, coated in the finest ocean blue that could have any other woman in his hands.

Not you.

You were in love with the voice in your head.

A voice you couldn’t explain. A voice that offered you power in exchange for completing their dirty work.

Finally, you let yourself fall to the desire and pulled the trigger, a bullet flying into the man’s heart.

“Good girl”.

It was a raspy voice, one full of authority and mischief. You knew the voice better than you knew your own family’s.

A wave of relief overcame you when the voice went quiet. You looked at the man in front of you and wondered what he could have done to have been so worthy of death.

The gun was placed back into your pocket once the safety was on and you simply walked out of the place. You couldn’t dwell on what you had done. It was all worth it in the end.

Miraculously, the deal between yourself and the voice was true and, as you killed upon their request, you gained more power. More reputation and strength.

There was odd downsides to this deal, however. Like the dreams that occurred every night.

Dreams about the same man that left you wanting so much more when you woke up.

“Oh, it’s you again”, your voice seemed to echo in your own bedroom as you looked at the familiar... creature.

“Who else would be here?”, there it was. The same voice that appeared in your head throughout the day.

You felt witless. He was right. No other thing or person visited the realm of your dreams as often as he did.

“You did well today”, was all he muttered when you remained silent. All you could do was stare at him as he walked closer.

His wings were a masterpiece on their own, a marvelous display of black. It was a beautiful way of showing he was rather symbolic of darkness.

His eyes glowed a blood red as they looked into your’s, his pupils blown out due to his hunger. You winced as his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face to examine you as if he was deciding if you were worthy of another night with him.

“You still won’t tell me what or who you are”, the creature chuckled, a sound so unfitting for him.

“You’ll find out soon”, and he was gone.

Another unspoken rule of the deal between you and the creature was isolation. You were not permitted to speak to others.

That much was clear when one of your co-workers was found drained of blood, a horrific sight to anyone but you. You had seen it before and that’s when you realized you were literally in a deal with a devil.

So, you avoided others in hopes that the little devil on your shoulder would keep quiet. No one would get hurt that way.

You were wrong. Horribly wrong.

You hadn’t realized but people slowly disappeared when they were around you. Just because the little devil wanted you all to himself.

“Y/n, come here. I need your help”, your boss ordered you and you felt an itch within you. An itch and desire for that control you were used to.

Reluctantly, you walked over and picked up the heavy box.

What is this guy moving? Rocks?

“Where to?”, your soft voice asked politely, sucking up to the man that could potentially give you more wealth than you could imagine.

“My office obviously”, his tone was cold as it always was and you nibbled your bottom lip in annoyance. You turned around, about to make your way out of the meeting room and to his office when you heard his screams.

Your head whirled around to see him on the floor, his finger pointing in sheer horror at something across the room. The door slammed behind you and your eyes finally found what he was screaming about.

“Hello baby”, there he was in all his unholy glory. The same man inside your head and your dreams.

“I figured I’d take care of your little problem here”, you shook your head, either from shock, fear, or denial. You couldn’t tell which.

“N-no you don’t have to”, the creature laughed at that and with a wave of his hand, the boss’s throat was slit. He quickly bled out and his body fell in a heap on the floor.

“I didn’t ask”, his smile was insincere, a warning to watch your mouth. You noticed it and shut up, noticing how his wings were not as perfect as they had been previously in your dreams.

The bone seeming to hold them together to his back was unnaturally bent, looking horrendous and painful. The feathers surrounding those areas were anything but perfect. Yet, he seemed effortlessly attractive.

“What do you want?”, your voice came out small and weak, a contrast to the usual powerful voice that came from your body. It was obvious the creature could take away your power just as he had given it to you.

“Surely you remember why I’m even here to begin with, little one”, the nickname shocked you as the memory resurfaced once again.

The shovel was cold in your grip, causing a bone chilling spark to run down your spine as you covered up the box. It was the standard recipe.

The bones of a dead black cat, a photograph of yourself, and graveyard dirt. All compacted in the small box now buried deep in the center of the crossroads.

You were younger at the time by a few years, a little more gullible. A little more desperate.

As the blood moon rose, you could feel the presence of someone else in the area. Well, more like something else.

The red light shun on him gracefully as he sat on the hood of your car, not caring how dinted it could become. Your eyes trailed down his body, engulfing any feature you could take in to remember him by.

At the time, his hair was a light brown and his eyes were not that blood red you had grown used to. They were a warm brown. They were so welcoming.

“Are you the devil?”, you wanted to keep your distance from him, but it felt like an invisible string was pulling you right to him. Your body soon stood in front of his own, barely away from being considered between his legs.

“No, little one. Just something awfully close. Now, what are you selling your soul for?”, the demon expected many things. Things he had heard so many times before. Money, love, saving, etc.

What he didn’t expect you to say was that you needed a way to get revenge on the murderer of your mother.

“What? You don’t strike me as the revenge type”, his infamous chuckle came after the words and you huffed. You hated being considered too weak or kind. People already played around with you for that reason.

“Are you going to help me or not?”, your hand found solace on your hip as you waited for his response. He hummed as if in deep thought before tilting his head in a teasing manner.

“Depends. What do I get in return?”, you noticed how his gaze had lingered on your hand, watching how it softly kneaded the flesh there.

“Keep our options open? You can have my soul or whatever you want whenever you want. I just want that man in the ground by the end of the week”, he didn’t expect the hint of sass in your tone but he loved it.

“I’ll need to put that in writing darling, but you have a deal”.

“Why did I not remember you before?”, you were sure you had never had that memory before now. The demon only smirked before walking towards you, his hands holding your waist. He rubbed them up and down as if he was memorizing every curve.

“I couldn’t have you running off. Besides, it was so precious to watch you think you had killed that man. You seemed so... proud”, he bit his lip, admiring you.

“It’s been you, hasn’t it? The voice?”, the demon nodded and took your jaw in his hold, tilting it every which way as if he was deciding to auction you or not.

“Yes. Your power comes from me and I think I’ve finally decided what I’ll be requesting for your end of the deal”, a thick lump formed in your throat, hoping that this wasn’t going to be your last day on Earth.

“You have been doing my dirty work for years now. No one is more fit to be my prophet than you. I want you to be mine. My little prophet”, your eyebrows furrowed as his words processed in your head.

“Prophet? For what?”, you had to sit down, walking over the body on the floor still and sitting on the desk.

“To be the next crossroad demon. Imagine it, baby. All the power you have now will be tripled, you’ll be immortal, and we’ll be together forever. I can tell you desire nothing more than power”, you found yourself nodding before you could even register any consequences. He had you at the power being tripled.

“How insatiable”, the demon tapped his fingers against the desk as he hovered over you, “if I didn’t know better than I’d consider you a deadly sin. I think you’re more greedy than actual greed is” before you could argue his lips were pressed against your own in a feverous manner. It filled your body with warmth from the tips of your toes to the very top of your head.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him back, feeling how his body got impossibly closer. You moaned into his mouth when you felt his crotch rub against your own.

“Unless you’re even crazier than I thought, let’s do this somewhere there isn’t a dead body”, he laughed once he pulled away, your eyes going to the forgotten body on the floor. Your cheeks went red as the demon picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His wings wrapped around your body, encasing you in a makeshift shield as black smoke surrounded you both. His wings opened up to reveal your bedroom and you realized something as your back landed on the soft mattress.

“Wait- what’s your name?”, contrary to popular myths, demons had no trouble sharing their names. He had just simply forgotten.

“San”, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking and biting the skin there as if you already belonged to him.

“San”, you repeated, testing the name and a rumble came from the demon’s chest. It was so similar to a growl that you had to look around the room to make sure no animals were there.

“Fuck, say it again”, his hands gripped the thin fabric of your shirt but he waited.

“San. Please”, there was a hint of desperation in your voice and it was something San had never heard from you. It made his eyes go blood red for a moment.

“Are you sure you want this? It will change everything”, you stared into his eyes and, for once, there wasn’t any fear in you. They were warm as they stared back at you, a sure fire way of San telling you he would never betray you.

“I’m sure. Let’s be powerful together”, you nodded and the demon smiled, ripping the fabric of your shirt apart like it was just some dusty old rag. Your hands held onto his suit and then you remembered something.

“Can I see them?”, San stopped to ponder what you meant. That’s when you lowered your hands to the small of his back, your hands gliding over the cuts on his back. That’s when he knew what you wanted.

“I didn’t think humans liked them”, he chuckled as he took off his own shirt, his wings springing out soon after. He kept them tucked towards him to avoid hitting anything on your end tables and all you could do was admire them as you laid there.

“I love them. So beautiful”, your fingers gently stroked them, trailing along the curve of the bone as if to memorize the feeling of them under your touch.

San nodded with a sincere smile, one you had yet to see. It took you off guard but you loved it. San pulled up your skirt and groaned when he saw how wet your panties had become. They were stuck to your folds, showing everything to him.

“You’re so wet, baby”, you whimpered when he trailed his finger up your folds and back down again. He simply pulled the panties to the side and you gasped when you felt his spit coat your opening. He then plunged it into you with his tongue, thrusting it inside of you and swirling his tongue to cut your walls with his saliva.

That’s when he realized you were already clenching around him in absolute sensitivity and pleasure. He looked up at you as he slowly pulled his tongue out, watching how your eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”, you flushed red from the question no matter how simple it sounded. San already knew the answer but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Yeah, I am”, you sit up a little on your elbows, expecting the demon to stop. However, all he did was smirk and thrust his tongue back inside of you, causing your head to fall back. He swirled his tongue, searching for that certain spot inside of you that even you had never found before.

His fingers pinched and rubbed at your clit as he prepped you, causing your sweet moans to fill the room. The only thing San could think about was how badly he wanted to ruin you.

Eventually, he felt you were ready and he replaced his tongue with his fingers, scissoring you open. Then, he hit it. That special spot deep inside of you with his middle finger.

“Right there! Please”, you had never felt so good and your back arched as San kept hitting that spot with his fingers over and over like clock work.

You clenched around his fingers and he kept his pace steady as you came all over his fingers, coating them with your juices. He had you ride out your high and watched as you shook from the stimulation, barely holding onto his humanity.

He took his fingers out and you whined, feeling so hopelessly empty without them there. San licked one of his fingers, humming from how sweet you tasted. Then, he had another finger in front of your mouth.

You opened your mouth and he put the digit inside, your lips closing around it as you sucked on it to taste yourself. You did taste perfectly sweet.

“Sorry sweetheart, I can’t wait any longer”, you gulped when you saw something inside the demon snap. His hands quickly pulled his belt off and he tied your wrists together with them, attached to the bedpost.

You were too in awe from the sight of his cock to even care about the rough leather rubbing against your skin, his tip red and angry, coated in pre-cum. You wondered how it would even fit.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be just fine”, before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his lips were on your’s as he lined himself up with your pussy. He slowly pushed in and you began to fill the pain until... you didn’t anymore.

It was as if the kiss was enough to blur your nerves and, before you knew it, San was all the way inside of you. The sight of his bulge was prominent in your stomach and, when he pulled away from the kiss, you could feel the tip brush against your cervix.

Your feelings rushed back in and you felt the stretch but it was no longer painful, your cunt used to being stuffed now. As he realized you were fine, San slowly started moving, groaning as your walls hugged his dick. You were so small in comparison to him and it felt perfect. You felt perfect.

Restraint inside of the demon slowly disappeared as he pounded into you, his hips snapping against your’s. His hand wrapped tightly around your throat when you got louder, squeezing it to cut off the air going to your lungs a little. Your eyes rolled back from all the pleasure and stimulation.

“Such a pretty whore. You feel so good”, San chuckled darkly, licking his lips as he looked down at you. Your breasts bounced from the force and he watched them, almost mesmerized by the movement as his tip continuously rammed into your g-spot.

You winced when San slapped you, a red hand imprinted on your skin. The sting only seemed to add to the pleasure and he noticed, deciding to slap your clit just as hard.

“Fuck! San!”, your breathing got caught in your throat as he continued to slap it, hitting the nerve over and over to watch your reaction. You clenched around him again as you began to feel overstimulated, the knot in your stomach releasing all over his cock.

San followed soon after, filling you up so much that you could see the bulge stay in your stomach even when he had pulled out. Your heavy breathing was all you were able to let out as San undid the belt.

You expected for it to be over but the demon simply gripped your hips and spread your legs to straddle his lap. You could feel his hard cock rubbing against your pussy lips and a rush of arousal went to your core again, his cum covering your thighs as it leaked out of you.

“It’s not over baby. I wanted to really look at you when I mark you”, your eyes went a little wide when San moved your hips to grind against his erection.

“Mark? What does that mean?”, San just shushed you and gave you his mischievous smile.

“You’ll see”, you were too needy to even care as you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, feeling for the first time how it truly stretched you out. San gripped the back of your head and pressed his forehead against your’s in an attempt to distract you from any pain.

“Ride me and you’ll be all mine”, his words made you roll your hips faster even if you already knew you were putty in his hands. You were already his and have been. He made sure of that.

Soon, you began to get tired and San smiled, gripping your hips to keep you moving. He didn’t seem angry but you could tell his impatience was coming through.

“Useless whore. You can’t even ride a dick properly”, you looked down in embarrassment from his words. It was the only time you enjoyed not having control, when San had it.

The demon took control and thrusted up into you, controlling your movements to meet his own. The new position made your mouth hang open in a silent scream, your body too overwhelmed with pleasure to even let out sounds.

Even without words, San knew you were close with how your nails dug into his shoulders and your little cunt clenched around him. As you both approached your orgasms he nuzzled his face between your neck and shoulder.

You came together and he bit you, causing a scream to erupt from your body. Your body thrashed against him but he held you still as he slowly pulled his teeth out.

The bite slowly healed to reveal a distinct ‘S’ marked into your skin. San smiled and watched as the blood from the wound went down your body and stopped at the curve of your breast.

“Good girl. Finally being put to use”, the demon leaned his face down and licked up the blood from your breast to the mark on your shoulder, sending pleasant shivers up your body.

He was still buried inside of you as he maneuvered you both to lay down, spooning you to keep you warm.

“Now you’re all mine. Remember that. Or this deal may not last”, you could tell the end was meant as a threat. You belonged to San and that was that.

“I’m all your’s”, you nodded and closed your eyes, trying to calm your body.

“That’s right. Forever”.

“Even in-“, you were cut off when he pressed a kiss to the back of your head.

“Even in hell. Then it will be...”, he hummed as he thought.

“Infernal desire”.

#binxyu #san #ateez #san demon #demon ateez #san oneshot #san smut #ateez oneshots #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez san smut #ateez headcannons #ateez imagines #san imagines #san headcannons #kpop smut #kpop imagines #choi san #ateez san oneshots

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pinepickled · 4 years ago

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why tf you ship sukuna and megumi??

Aw, thank you for letting me write a little something for these two! They really are my OTP (for this fandom, anyway).

I ship them for a lot of reasons~

I think that Sukuna is a very powerful being who hates being bored, and who finally saw something he liked in a world of curses. Megumi intrigued him greatly, and it shows. He is always so gentle with Megumi, even when fighting. To me, it's always looked like Sukuna was trying to coax Megumi into letting go, into being free with his emotions- even the "undesirable" ones.

I like how Sukuna goads Megumi into turning his back on civility and elegance, how Megumi feels free to split his face into a grin and laugh loud and proud when he fights Sukuna. I like how Megumi always feels more natural when Sukuna is present, as though he knows that any pretense is moot next to him. How Megumi feels free to act like his father, to enjoy the fight and the pain and the opponent in such an intimate way, even though these have done nothing but hurt him in the past.

I like how Megumi is, ultimately, at Sukuna's mercy- and I like how Sukuna can be so merciful when Megumi is involved. I like how Sukuna is enchanted by Megumi- and how Megumi is haunted by Sukuna. I like that when they meet, the world around them can't help but quake.

I like how Sukuna can grab Megumi by the neck and make the boy fear for his life, while simultaneously holding his own cursed hand over Megumi's heart and heal his wounds. I like that Sukuna isn't going to run away from Megumi when the boy let's loose, and how Megumi always tries to meet Sukuna's strength with his own.

And that's just what has happened in canon.

I think Sukuna likes to hold Megumi. Likes to wrap all the arms he can summon around Megumi, and hold him close so that perhaps Megumi will feel just how not-human Sukuna is, and choose to stay in his arms anyway. I like that Sukuna surprises Megumi, how even though the curse is who he is, Megumi can still be surprised by the peace he finds within the specter.

I think that when Megumi finally surrenders, finally willingly drops to his knees without being beaten bloody, that Sukuna will catch him. That Sukuna will be gentle, will cradle Megumi's face in one hand, hold on to his waist with another two, and finally have a firm hand on Megumi's thigh as Sukuna carries him to their bed- Sukuna has many hands, after all, and what would be the purpose of having so many if not to hold Megumi?

I think that when Megumi chooses to splay out and curl up in Sukuna's bed, he won't fear for his life- not that time. Because then Sukuna would walk in, as he always does, curse markings and blood red eyes boring into the shaman, and Megumi would only see the relaxed posture, the soft smile, and the welcoming embrace. That's all Sukuna has to give him, after all.

Perhaps Megumi would get on his knees first- face away from the curse so he wouldn't need to face the reality of his situation. That somewhere along this road, he chose to put his ass in the air for the King of Curses. Chose to let that dangerous being- the most dangerous being- run warm hands up and down his thighs, over his back, along his neck and his jaw and everywhere those hands could reach. That he chose to let his first time be with something not even human- and that he would never tolerate any time after that being any other way.

Maybe, once Megumi had fully sat himself on the terrible decision that was loving Sukuna, he'd lay on his back. Beautiful heart and soft tummy exposed, legs spread patiently, softly gripping the sheats beneath him, waiting for his curse as he always did. And Sukuna would come, because leaving such a beautiful sight unseen would be a crime. He would come and seat himself right where Megumi wanted him, and would wrap his many arms around Megumi- he always gave the best hugs. Maybe, as he slowly worked himself into the shaman under him, always so careful, he would take a clawed hand and hold Megumi's own calloused fingers. Gently, softly, and with great care would he finally lay on top of him, cradling that hand, and move as though they were two beings who'd known eachother for a lifetime. And Megumi would realize that through all of the curses and blood and battle, the King chose not to pound him within an inch of his life, but to make love instead. There is a certain warmth Megumi will never forget, the warmth that that realization brought.

Of course, for good times there must always be bad- especially when you love the King of Curses. People are hunting him, and Sukuna isn't one to back down. How foolish these poor, poor shamans are. To believe that their own measly cursed power could compare in any way to the King. Gojo could have, if he'd wanted to, but he didn't. Gojo had learned a long time ago, standing over the bodies of his best friend and his students father, that there was no way in hell he'd follow anyone's damned agenda again. Being friends with the King of Curses was much more rewarding- and he got to see his cute little student more often too! But foolish shamans are foolish, and many have challenged Sukuna- and all have died. When the foolish shamans realized that their foolishness would only send them to an early grave when it pertained to attacking Sukuna, they went for Megumi instead. It was plainly obvious that Sukuna favored Megumi, after all, and Megumi was still a weak shaman who could only reliably use a few Shikigami and whose prowess with the sword was nothing compared to his sire.

But that's okay. Megumi has Sukuna after all, and no one is more safe in this world than the one who chose to love the King.

Megumi remembers a time in his life, so long ago, when he despised death, and hated pain. It was a brief memory, barely crossing his mind. It was hard to think at all, really, when he was seated atop his King, slowly moving up and down, blood the only thing aiding his movements. Whether the blood was his own or from one of the dozens of bodies strewn across their front lawn, Megumi truly didn't know. He was very pleased, on the other hand, that Sukuna had kept the fight outside this time. Whenever the fights went into their home, it was Megumi who had to clean it up- and being on his knees always gave Sukuna ideas so it took forever. Thus, Megumi decided to reward his King, though through his haste he hadn't properly prepared- and now it seemed he didn't need to.

Sukuna loved Megumi like this- loved how that scared little boy who bit off more than he could chew was now feeling nothing but ecstasy surrounded by the carnage he'd narrowly avoided. Sukuna didn't know how Megumi had gotten so bloody- perhaps when Sukuna had thrown a body toward the door where the shaman was standing- but it didn't matter. The King was so blessed. He had a cute little thing willingly riding his cock, in the middle of a pool of blood, and using it as lubricant. There was no prettier sight to see than this, nowhere Sukuna would rather be, than with Megumi not having a care in the world about anything but him.

Well, that's all that was floating around in my head! Hope you enjoyed this little rambling of mine~

#sukufushi #ryomen sukuna #fushigoro megumi #gojo satoru #fushigoro toji #sukufushi rambling #sukufushi fic #tw blood #tw body horror #pine's writing #🌿 thirsts

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years ago

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Sleep and Other Things

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Grinding, Fingering (with them metal fingers babbbby), Oral (f), Mentions of Masturbation (f), Sergeant Kink, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Light spanking, Sub/Dom, Hair pulling, Pining, Sexual tension/frustration, Language, Classic Tropes (I will not apologize), Fluff

Word Count: 11K+ (I really went on on this one I’m sorry)

A/N: It’s been TOO long since I’ve written for my bby I apologize

This sucks.

Royally, royally, royally sucks.

And if you could choose from any supernatural powers at all known to man, you’d choose the power of sleep.

Because for the past few nights, it just hasn’t struck you. You’ve tried everything you can think of: punching and kicking away at the bag in front of you in the training room until your knuckles started to bruise, drinking a nice, hot cup of tea, hell even meditation. None of it seemed to work in your favor, and you wanted to punch the force that was holding you back from a full night's rest.

Please God, or you know, whatever is out there listening. All’s I’m asking a normal fucking sleep schedule, is that too much to ask?

The blaring flashes sting your eyes with every white, vicious transition of another rerun on TV. It’s the only light in the otherwise dark room, and it’s dimmed with the volume low so that every stupid little background laughter is dull instead of blaring. And judging by the big red 3:30 on your alarm clock, you’ve been awake for approximately ten hours with no hope of a fulfilled slumber. You believe this is your third night in a row.

You sigh for what seems the hundredth time, flopping onto your right side and shoving your pillow under your arm. The soft fabric and the fresh smell of your favorite laundry detergent is doing nothing to soothe your mind and your body alike, but maybe keeping up the facade that it does will lull your eyes to remain shut and your brain silent; in the back of your mind, annoyingly, you already know that it will not work.

“Fuck it.” You mutter to yourself and throw your covers off. The floor is slightly chilly against your bare feet, but not too terribly cold, and the compound is stable and quiet; more alone time for you, more time to watch the clock slowly tick by as yet another night—day you should say given the time—drags by thorough dark circles and irritable mood swings.

The door is silent as you creek it open, though it doesn’t make one sound and you’re grateful for that. No use dragging everyone down with you.

You’re not exactly sure on what you’re looking for, but it feels right to be where the food is. It’s a start, at least. The good news, too, about going to the kitchen is that it’s not that far from your room, a blessing to you now.

The hallway is dark, too dark for you weak eyes you realize as you stub your toe on a corner of a wall. “OW—oH fuckfuck what the fuckity fu—”

“Shoulda paid attention, doll.”

You whirl around mid-tantrum, hopping on the uninjured foot rather ungracefully towards the raspy voice you recognize in a heartbeat.

The root to your problem is sitting there—short, chopped dark hair, eyes that are sometimes grey and others times blue, like a storm and a ocean living and correlating together to create a beautiful color that you often dream of, and built, toned body hiding behind a black tank top and you’re going to assume matching sweatpants—with a coffee mug in his hands, sitting by the kitchen island and stifling a shit-eating grin as you wallow.

Normally, you’d be very happy to see Bucky. Over the year that you’ve been on the team, Bucky has been nothing but kind to you, even after a rocky start to the friendship. As quiet and closed off as he is, you had managed to weasel your way into his circle; you leave him alone whenever you sense he needs it, not wanting to overwhelm him. Watch TV with him on the couch when it’s just the two of you; sometimes you’d barely say a word to each other at all, happy with the comfortable silence. He jokes around with you if you manage to burn another pancake or whatever concaussion you could scramble up or he’ll invite you to have drinks with him and the others—others being Steve and, despite the pranks and banters, Sam, and so, so much more. It’s as easy as breathing, just being with him, and the comfort and stability that you find in him never fails to put you at ease.

But it’s like somewhere down the road something shifted. You don’t know when or how it happened, but when it did it hit you like a freight train. There’s a pull towards him when you catch yourself paying extra attention to the way his body moves, alerting yours with a sudden new and ferocious need; the daydreams that come from it are even better. The soft, barely there brushes as you pass by or the barely fingertip touch when you’re standing next to each other. The longing stares that makes you wonder if there ever could be more. There’s no denying that you can’t stop looking at him differently now, as more than just the friend you cherish deeply, but as someone who could become more than just.

Sometimes, you even dream of his hand between your legs.

What makes this even worse is that you’ll occasionally catch Bucky doing the same thing to you; he may be faster than you in oh so many ways thanks to his enhancements, but there are moments where you catch him looking quickly away and towards whatever was in front or next to him, eyes glaring like he’s—he’s scolding himself.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda told you when you first explained your worries to her. “That’s what’s happening.”

You shook your head, laughing it off. “Nooo it can’t be Wanda. We’re just—”

“Friends?” She smirked.

“Yes.” You defended. “Just friends. I mean maybe—maybe we’re just going through a phase, and everything will soon go back to normal.”

Wanda rolled her eyes with a smirk. “We’ll see.”

Deep down, you knew that she was right. And that terrified you. Still does, actually. Why would you want to ruin such a good thing over what may be just a stupid, silly crush?

Now, exhausted, frustrated, and hopping around like a moron in the dark, the smug look on his face heavily annoys you more than ever.

“Thanks.” You snarl.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, easily taking in your disdained mood. “Sorry.”

You finally let your foot drop back to the ground, your toe still stinging. Bucky continues to watch you as you limp towards the cabinets and reach for your favorite mug, setting it too harshly down on the marble counter before opening the fridge.

“Try drinking tea,” he says. “It’ll be better than…Dr. Pepper.”

You shrug as you uncap the bottle and pour the sweet soda into your mug. “I’ve already tried that.” You mutter. “Nothing’s been working.”

You hear Bucky shift in his chair, hear the clicks of his metal arm as he stretches it out; he rarely does it when there’s too many people around, letting himself be free with the metal prosthetic. You feel special knowing that he’s comfortable enough to be free in your presence.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks quietly.

You lean your back against the counter and bring the cup to your lips. “Almost a full week now.”

You see him nod from your peripheral vision, straightening his back and taking a sip from his own up you didn’t realize he had until now; it smells like green tea, with a hint of something sweeter. Honey, most likely.

You expect him to ask you more questions but he stays silent as you both take small sips of your drinks. Your eyes are heavy and your body is on the verge of completely slumping against the small space behind you, but you’re still too wired to sleep—okay, Bucky was right on the soda, but you’re not going to admit that to him.

“Why are you awake?” You ask him.

He just shrugs. “Same reason as you.”

That gets you to snort. Yeah right, buddy.

“Tried sparring?” Bucky suddenly breaks the silence, causing you to jump from the intrusion.

“Sorta.” You iffley say. “Still didn’t help me much…I really don’t know what my problem is.” Liar.

He hums softly. “Well,” he puffs as he sits up from the stool. “Let’s go then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really?”

For such a heavy man, it still surprises you when he walks silently towards you, so quietly that if you weren’t looking you’d had no idea if he was moving at all. The familiar smell of his soap overwhelms your senses as he leans in, his left arm stretched to put his cup in the sink. You can’t help but inhale the alluring musk, which causes a shiver to run through your body.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda’s voice rings through your head.

God he really does smell good and he’s warm...stop it!

“So?” He scares you again out of your thoughts, and when you look up he’s close. He’s really close—well, closer than you anticipated for only putting away a dish. He’s looking down at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, but that smirk of his returns and your heart flutters at the close proximity of it.

You set your now empty mug in the sink next to his with a sigh and nod your head. “Take it easy on me. I’m not exactly coordinated right now.”

Bucky only chuckles, hearty and gruff, at your warning. “Whatever you say.”

You really like the way he says it. It sounds stupid, but you do.

He leads the way to the training room, turning every now and then to make sure you’re still following—and that you don’t stub your toe again.

“Turning the lights on.” Bucky warns you just seconds before the lights blare your vision, making you wince and blink against the onslaught.

When you can finally make out the shapes moving around, Bucky is already standing in the middle of the mat, watching you with his signature smirk. You can’t help but give him a small closed lip smile of your own as you make your way towards him.

“I’m totally gonna kick your ass.” You tease with a slight slur.

He grunts, face squished as he rolls his eyes playfully. ��Yeah yeah, hurry up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to be here, Barnes.” You chide as you start to wrap your knuckles. “You’re the one who suggested this.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta be a turtle about it.”

You give him the best glare you can muster as he struggles to hold in his laughter. Your grimace deepens when they finally escape, and his face is really fucking adorable when he laughs like this; without a care in the world. That makes you stare at him longer than necessary as he recovers.

“Okay I’m sorry!” He gasps, putting his hand up. “I’ll stop, I swear it.”

The scowl doesn’t disappear even as you start to adjust the strings on your sweatpants; tightening them. You know you look like a child right now with the way you’re stomping dramatically heavily towards the ex-assassin, but you’re too tired and slightly agitated to care.

“Alright,” he huffs. “Just come right at me and don’t hold back. Think you can handle that, doll?”

You smirk despite yourself and prepare a simple stance; attack. “Sure, ice bucket.”

Bucky doesn’t flinch from the playful tease. What he does is pat his chest with a closed knuckle and says, “I’m waiting.”

You watch him, take in his posture and immediately go for the legs. You’re a good agent, not the best, definitely in need of improvement, but you’re good. What you’re sort of forgetting here, a habit with him it seems, is that he is. in fact, a super soldier.

The air leaves your lungs with an oof as you land flat on your back. His hand, warm flesh that feels like is scorching your skin through your shirt, holds you down by your upper chest. You blink dumbly up at him as you struggle to catch your breath, your body jolted from its heavy, sleepless form.

“C’mon,” he says your name disappointingly. “You know better than that.”

You roll your eyes and grunt, swatting his hand away and standing yourself up. “I don’t see the point of this.” You complain. “If anything, I feel more awake than tired.”

“Oh you know what the point is.” Bucky scoffs. “Stop complaining and fight me.”

“Fine!” You growl.

The next charge at him, you honestly thought that you’d get the upper hand. Where he goes to block, you quickly change course and go for a punch. It all happens in a blink of an eye, and suddenly his metal arm is wrapped loosely around your neck in a lock, the other locking your wrists in his wide grip.

“You’re not even trying.” He breathes in your ear.

“I am.” You say through gritted teeth.

He finally lets you go with a small chuckle. It makes you angry. “If you’re just going to keep laughing at me then I’m—”

Bucky lunges at you. Your body reacts on instinct and ducks away from his attack, bouncing on your feet to the other side. The muscles in his back strain as he runs his fingers through his hair, flashing you a grin as he turns around.

“There ya ‘re.” His brooklyn accent runs thick through his praise.

That praise—and it’s not like you’ve never heard it from him before, always in playful banter—raises goosebumps and there’s no way he doesn’t notice it. You fight the rush of blood flooding to your cheeks.

“Here,” you try, bouncing around him and playfully trying to grab him, distracting yourself from your own confusing thoughts. “Just stand still and let me punch and kick at you until I pass out.”

He laughs with you and dodges your weak attempts with liquid ease. “Oh I’m sure you’d love that.”

“I would, actually.”

“You’re jus’ bein’ a sore loser.”

“So what—” You grunt as he slides to his right and pushes your hit lightly away from him. “—if I am.”

You do this for some time, aimlessly throwing weak kicks at his shins as he teases you—you’re really fucking jealous at how he seemingly floats with each bounce to his dodges. You finally manage to knip him around the ankle, causing him to wince and curse.

“Ha!” You cheer. “I bet that hur—”

Bucky takes your short moment of victory to sweep around you and kick your legs out from under you. You land ungracefully yet again on the hard mat, but this time you quickly recover and loop your legs around the arm closest to you and pull him down with all your strength. He flips hard on his back, gasping as soon as he makes contact and now you’re the one laughing at him as you have the upper hand.

“Well Barnes,” you tsk. “Looks like you’re losing your touch.”

“Don’t get cocky.” He warns as his hand flexes still in your grip. “Or else this happens.”

You blink and feel a harsh tug at the back of your neck. Everything is a blur as you feel yourself being lifted and flipped into the air, like you weigh nothing at all. Your eyes automatically shut and your body awaits for the hard impact.

It doesn’t come.

Bucky softens your fall by quickly rolling his body into yours and wrapping his arms around you, practically caging you in. Your hands reach for the first solid thing they can find, which happens to be soft skin and hard muscle. His legs cage yours between his, his hair lightly curled and there’s a strangled noise coming from somewhere and holy fuck he’s—

“You alright?” He asks, panting.

Your breaths mix together as you stare into each other’s eyes. You hear what he says, the words playing through your ears but your brain doesn’t register the nerves to actually respond to him. It feels like you’ve never been this close to him before, not like this anyway. It feels… suffocating. In such a good, intoxicating way that you don’t want him to move.

And then you realize that the reason why he must be asking that question is because he thinks you’re hurt; that strangled cry was from you.

He shifts, just slightly to adjust, that gets his arms to tighten around you for a split second. Your jaw clenches as you struggle to hide the hitch in your breath and the pool of arousal flooding between your legs.

“Y-yeah.” You finally answer, swallowing thickly. His adam’s apple bobs as he does the same, and that gets your body tingling with a familiar sensation that has your eyes widening. “I think I’m tired now.”

The second those words escape your lips you want to take them back. His eyes fall as he shakes his head and chuckles, looking shyly down as he sighs. He unwraps himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. It takes you a moment, still reeling from—well from whatever the hell that was.

Now it feels awkward. You both can’t keep your eyes on each other, looking anywhere’s else like it’s fucking interesting. You gotta stop this.

“Than—”

“Can I—”

You both say at the same time. Bucky’s soft, harmonic—in your very humble opinion—chuckle joins yours and you shake your head to clear away the fuzziness clouding your brain.

“Sorry, uh what were you going to say?”

Bucky hesitates, and there’s something in his eyes that tells you that he’s nervous. It worries you, and instinct takes over to walk to him and comfort him.

“No it’s—,” he inhales sharply. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow, when you’re more…awake.”

“I’m plenty coherent, Bucky.” You scoff. “Just tell me. I’m your friend.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; it goes without the same brightness that usually greets you and that makes your stomach drop and your heart clench with an uncomfortable grip.

“I know.” He says softly. Then his eyebrow raises in a mischievous arch. “Need me to walk you to your room?”

This time it’s you who hesitates. On any other circumstance, you would’ve immediately said yes and that would be that; no awkwardness, no tension or—or whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you.

“Um… yeah. Yeah s-sure.”

You curse yourself mentally and berate yourself to keep it together. The walk back is quicker than the walk to the training room, and a part of you is entirely grateful for it. Bucky stays close as he paddles softly through the hall until your door is in sight, and you’re standing with one hand on the handle while chewing on your bottom lip. Now what?

“Goodnight,” he says your name softly, so softly you can barely hear him.

“Goodnight Buck.” You whisper back.

He gives you one last smile and walks away, and as simple and normal as this is, it feels wrong. Like he shouldn’t be walking away, because there’s something obviously going on between the two of you and you have no idea how—well, you know one way—to fix it because you’re a goddamn coward and that smile isn’t the same smile he gives you.

You lean against your bedroom door as it shuts. Your eyes sting with unshed tears and the aching pressure between your legs is long gone, but the evidence of it sticks to your panties. Ignoring it, you hop onto your bed and fling yourself against your lush pillows, and the rest of the morning is spent with you staring at the tv screen overthinking every interaction you ever had with the man responsible for your turmoil, and fall asleep with frustration seeping through your veins.

When you come to, early afternoon you think, the ache in your pussy is too much to ignore and you cum with Bucky’s name a sigh from your ecstasy. It’s the first time you do.

–

“You look…better.”

“Thank you.”

“So what was the trick?”

I masturbated thinking about my best friend. “Training. With Bucky.”

That gets her eyebrows rising up as she ahhh’s at you. “How are things between the two of you?”

“Good.” You feign. “Really good, actually.”

“Mhmmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Just fuck already.”

“Wanda—”

“Seriously, I’m getting pretty sick of watching you mope around like this. You’ve got to talk to him.”

You sigh through your nose, throwing your head back against the couch cushion. “I know.” You groan. “It’s just—I don’t know how, you know? I mean, what if this ruins our entire friendship? I can’t…I can’t live with that.”

Wanda purses her lips and rubs your shoulder comfortably. “I know,” she coos. “But don’t think you’ll feel better getting it off your chest? How do you know that he doesn’t feel the same way?”

A pause. “No.” Yes. Another pause. “And no.” One more. “How did this happen?”

She understands what you mean when you say it in a whine. She opens her mouth and is about to reply when—

“Did what happen?”

You freeze, eyes going wide as Wanda stares back in equal horror; you also detect the glint in her green eyes that spells nothing but trouble for you.

“She just agreed to have a movie night with Vis and I. My pick, which she’s still sulking about.” She throws in, so casually that you’re kind of surprised and impressed. “We were just talking about asking you to join us.”

You should’ve seen this coming. Really, you should have. It pisses you off.

‘Calm down.’ Her voice whispers in your head, a skill she’s been working on. ‘I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.’

“Yeah?” Bucky says, all rich honey. “When?”

You roll your lips and force a smirk as you turn towards him. “Tonight, around nine.” If she was going to force you into this and pick the movie, you wanted to at least have some control over this situation.

His eyes meet yours and the crinkles around them washes away the annoyance that was starting to build. He nods while shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and grins towards Wanda.

“Alright. Pick a good movie, would ya?”

Wanda laughs. “I will!”

Your fingers twinkle in a wave as Bucky awkwardly waves back. Once you’re sure he’s gone and out of earshot, you nudge Wanda’s leg with your foot. “What the hell was that?” You hiss.

“Oh hush,” she clicks her tongue. “I just gave you an opportunity, and who knows maybe something good will happen, and you’ll be thanking me after you fuc—”

“Alright alright I get it!” You stop her, a part of you still scared that anyone will just waltz in and hear. “I’ll stop complaining under one condition.”

“Okay.” She says suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

“I get to pick the movie.”

—

Your legs hurt.

Curled up crookedly under your blanket, back at an awkward angle as you stare at the moving faces and listen to the screams as they run through the forest.

The Blair Witch Project has always been one of your favorites, and you figure there’s no sex, no nudity, nothing that could put you in a weird position with the man you can’t stop thinking about sitting right next to you on the plushy loveseat. Yeah, why not?

But of course, Wanda had to be Wanda, and insisted that the two of you lounge on the small couch while her and Vision take over the other, bigger one. As if they needed the space.

Bucky, although, doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort, and if he does he’s kept quiet about it. He seems just as stiff as you are, but more relaxed and attentive.

It’s been almost an hour of this.

There’s a little giggle from the couple to your left, and when you look over you see Wanda putting her finger to her lips, shushing Vision as she holds in more of her laughter.

Glad she’s having fun.

Stop it. You’re doing this to yourself.

You let out a soft sigh and shuffle to your right, closer to Buck as you gingerly uncurl your legs and sit them criss cross. Much better. You can pay attention to the movie better now that you’re more comfortable, so lost in the panic on the screen that you don’t hear him move but rather feel the brush of his thigh against your knee.

Once you realize it you decide to ignore the onslaught of the electric shock rushing through your core—it’s embarrassing that a touch of his leg of all things gets you going.

Bang!

You gasp and jump, gripping onto the first thing your flying hands find. It happens to be Bucky, naturally.

“Sorry!” Wanda whispers yells.

You roll your eyes with a loud, annoyed sigh and settle back into the loveseat. Your hands still grip onto his bicep, and it’s his subtle clear of the throat that brings your attention to it.

“Sorry.” You flinch and let go of him.

“It’s okay.” He sounds off, a little dejected.

You’re about to over analyze it—because that’s what you do best—when Bucky scooches closer to you and hands his arm up to rest on the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers barely reaching your shoulder. Willing yourself to relax and focus, you don’t notice the side glances he’s throwing you or the hushed whispers of your friend, who is no longer paying attention to the movie at all, but rather at you and Bucky.

“We’re gonna turn in.” Wanda announces.

Your mouth opens in a small o as you stare at her in disbelief. “Are you sure?” It’s hard to hide the plea. “It’s almost at the end!”

Vision gives you an apologetic shrug and mouths ‘sorry’ as Wanda drags him away by his hand. “Yeah, we’re sure. Don’t have too much fun without me!” Her accent thrums with pure tease and you can only blubber like an idiot while watching them disappear to their room.

“Well,” Bucky sighs and shifts lower until he’s more comfortable. “Just us.”

“Hm.”

You don’t mean to sound so annoyed. You can tell it hurts his feelings because his arm moves back to his side, effectively putting more space between you. Your heart clenches at the fact that you’re the one doing this, no one else, and seeing him now, eyebrows furrowed and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as his leg starts to bounce anxiously, makes you feel even worse.

“I think I’m going to bed, too.” Bucky says.

He stands up before you can say something, though you’re not exactly sure what you want to say to him; there’s so much and your brain is in too much of a scramble of self wallowing and fear that it’s hard to put them coherently together.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t say your name, or give you your smile. An awkward wave and heavy steps is all you get, and when they become more faint do you curse yourself and fight the stupid tears clogging your throat as you sit there in the dark.

–

It’s been a week since that night.

Wanda, much to your relief, has left you alone about Bucky, but you know with every look when he enters the room that she’s still thinking about it; still scolding you for not taking the leap of faith into what could lead to so much more. To be honest, you don’t blame her; you’d be doing the same if you knew she’d be happy.

This time it’s so bad that the rest of the team starts to notice yours and Bucky’s sudden thrift. Steve, bless him, has been the most frequent next to Wanda.

“You know you can tell me anything Buck,” Steve’s voice rang through the empty room.

This was the night after the movie incident. Restless once again, you decided to punch out your feelings and frustrations at two in the morning with the hope that you would be alone. You almost walked in on them, not paying attention, when you heard him.

“I know.” Bucky said. “But I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing there.”

Your heart leapt in your chest and your stomach dropped. Somehow, you knew they were talking about you.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked; you imagine he did so while crossing his arms.

A bang, followed by a grunt. “Nothing. Just as I said it.”

A stab deep in your heart with a jagged edge made your knees nearly buckle.

“Buck—“

“Listen punk,” Bucky interrupted. “I know you’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it, but I don’t want to…I want—“

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” FRIDAY interjects robotically. “But I’m afraid Rogers has a call waiting for him and it’s very urgent.”

You heard Steve sigh and something moved or fell, but you hurried away before you could get caught.

Ever since, you can’t get those words out of your head. They play over and over like a broken record, chasing you to insanity.

Why oh why did FRIDAY have to say something?

It was like a sign from the universe itself. Whether it was good or bad, you weren’t quite sure yet.

Tonight is a particularly warm night, which you’re not complaining about, especially with Stark’s AC. It looks to be another night of staring blankly into space until you get tired of that; covers thrown haphazardly across the room, cool air breezing against your bare skin, a new set of dark bags under your eyes brewing. A typical night for you.

This time you debate on whether you should move. It’s getting old, just sitting here but you’re too afraid of running into—well into anyone at this point. You just don’t think you have the energy for it.

So you decide on sitting by your window and watching the cars drive by, lights flashing through the busy city. Count the stars that barely shine through in the dark sky, too many city lights blocking out the natural brightness. Finally, after several long and agonizing minutes, you throw on a pair of shorts and quietly open the door, peering at the hallways to the best of your ability without any light with ears straining to detect any type of sound no matter big or small, and once you’re satisfied that you’re alone you close the door and blink.

Where to this time?

You could try the training room again, but the last time makes you hold out on that. The living room maybe? Kitchen? Game room?

Suddenly it hits you, and you want to wack yourself on the head for not thinking of this sooner. Quickly tiptoeing back to your room, you grab the fluffiest blanket you own and wrap it around yourself.

You usually prefer taking the elevator up, too lazy for the stairs, but it’s too late for that so, stairs it is. Thankfully, it’s not that many flights and when the first breeze of fresh, cool air hits your skin you immediately sigh and inhale deeply. The night is filled with miscellaneous noises of the common city, but after being here for so long you’re more than used to it. You can see the moon now, hiding behind slivers of a dark cloud, and to your right a gruff,

“What’re you doing up here?”

It’s not unwelcoming, just a question out of curiosity. You turn to him, shocked to find him up here.

“Uh.” You drawl, mouth hanging open as you think of something to say. “Well—well I…” Why is this so hard?

“Why are you up here?” You ask instead, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

Bucky shifts in the lawn chair—a cheap brand that creaks a little under his weight—and offers you a timid smile. “Don’t you remember?”

You shuffle through your memories, trying to understand the meaning behind his question. He’s patient with you, even shuffling deeper into his stance as you stare quizzically at him. What the fuc––oh. Oh you know what he’s talking about now.

“Oh Jesus Bucky I’m––” you run a palm over your face in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to say sorry for,” he assures you.

But you do. You do because he’s your friend, one of your best friends even, and with all of this going on, he deserves to have a good friend.

So it makes you feel terrible that you forgot the quite frankly huge significance of this roof, and even more specifically the very spot he’s sitting in right now; this is where he goes when he has nightmares. When he wants to be alone. This is where your friendship started.

You had snuck up to the roof in the middle of one of Tony’s parties, clad in a simple short blue dress and an armful of drinks and snacks for yourself.

It wasn’t that you weren’t having fun, you were never one to turn down a good party. But that night you had just wanted a little alone time, and the roof was one of your sanctums of escape from the world and its responsibilities.

Balancing everything awkwardly and praying that you wouldn’t have to bend down and pick any of them up, you finally twisted and pushed the door unceremoniously.

It should’ve banged against something with the amount of force you excurted—out of pure annoyance—but instead it was stopped by flashy, shiny fingers, curled against the rim of the door with quiet clicks.

“Fuck!” You gasped. “I’m sorry, didn’t know anyone was up here.”

Bucky stared down at you wearily, eyes full of surprise and wonder as he eyed you up and down, particularly taking in the overflowing variousity of items in your arms.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just needed…to get away for a moment.”

At this point you already knew how Bucky was with large crowds; you didn’t blame him for coming here, especially on warm summer nights such as this.

“Yeah,” you repeated. “Me too.” You looked down at your feet, shifting your weight. “Do you… would you like to join me?”

He froze. The blood to your cheeks was prominent, you could feel that from the heat of it. You shifted again, lifting a foot to help shove a box back into your arms.

“Okay.”

You smiled then, bright and toothy. “Here,” Bucky said, reaching for the snacks. “Let me get that.”

That night was filled with nothing but small talk and laughter, and it was one of the best nights of your life in a long, long time. From then on, you and Bucky grew closer and closer until you started to dream about riding his cock until he screamed your name and you started to push him away.

“Buck.” You sigh, shaking the perverted thoughts away.

“Just come here,” he says, reaching his hand out. “I want you to see something.”

You hesitate, but only for a split second before you find yourself walking towards him. His eyes, grey tonight, bare deep into yours like he’s trying to see into your soul; to figure you out, more likely.

Once you’re within hand’s reach he gently tugs at your blanket and your heart skips a beat at the sheer…domestically of such a minuscule motion. He tugs again, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the armrest.

“That chair is gonna break as soon as I sit on it.” You argue.

“It’s not,” he defends gently.

He still senses your hesitance and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Can I—?” He scrunches his eyebrows and carefully wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you to the left side of him. You let him guide your body until you’re half seated on his lap, legs practically curled over his thighs while his arm stays wrapped around you.

The heat from his body is searing, even through the extra layers of fluff you have on you. His breath ghosts over your cheek, casting a whiff of something sweet and minty on his breath. The hard, metal muscles dig into your back, although not uncomfortably, but enough for you to have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together at the thought of his arm tightening around you as he pounds into you—

“Look up.” He suddenly whispers in your ear, husky and deep. It causes a delectable shiver to run down your body and your pussy clenches around nothingness.

Keep it together.

Bucky must mistake it as you being cold because he pulls you tighter against him, which for you only makes it harder to control your thoughts. Your heart pounds and your ankles cross to try and relieve the increasing pressure growing in your pussy; thank goodness you brought your blanket out here.

You finally muster your eyes to follow his pointed finger and squint. “What am I looking at?”

He shifts a little more to the left. Closer to you. “There.”

You try to ignore the way his words literally hit your lips. A brush of his breath that feels like an imprint on your pink flesh and gets your mouth watering; you start to wonder what he tastes like.

“That?” You stick your hand out to the pointed stars.

“You know what that is?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you think. You’re not an expert in astronomy by no means, but you took a few classes back in the day, and somehow this piece of information resonates high and mighty in your memories.

“No.” You say before you can stop yourself.

He smiles again, that toothy smile that you love. “Cygnus. The swan, I believe. Mostly comes out during summer months and it forms this triangle,” he traces the stars. “See?”

And that is why you said no. The way he describes it, giddy and excited because he learned something new and he’s telling you…you hate yourself even more for the way you’ve been trying to avoid him.

“It’s beautiful.” You murmur.

Bucky hums in agreement. Your eyes scan for any more constellations, but you can feel him staring at you. You want to look down, your neck is even starting to strain from it, but you just…

He says your name. It comes out a whisper, and he sounds… scared. You slowly, very slowly, look down and find a swirl of gray and blue. Facing him like this makes you realize you’re closer to him than you thought; tilt your head a little down and you’d be kissing him.

As if he read your mind, he licks his lips and, unconscious or not, you start to lean forward.

This is it.

Bucky’s leaning up and holy shit you’re about to—

“Hey, lovebirds!”

The both of you jump and turn towards the intrusion, you with shock and Bucky, a murderous glare. Both his arms are around you, as if to shield you from the outsider.

“Emergency meeting.” Tony smirks. “I don’t like it either but,” he shrugs. “Duty calls. Let’s go.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches out of your peripheral vision, and you find yourself filled with the same agitation because fuck you were so fucking close.

“We should go.” You tell him, like it’s not obvious that the moment is already ruined.

“Yeah.” Bucky grits out.

You miss the safety of his arms as soon as you leave them.

–

This time you find him on purpose.

You start by going to his room. It’s late, but not too late this time. You knock softly against the door once, then twice and wait.

“Bucky?” You call out softly.

A sharp, defined meow answers you back from the otherside. You grin and give the knob a try, twisting it open slowly as you glance around the room.

“Buck?” You try again.

Alpine, Bucky’s white feline, greets you with a purr and rubs against your legs. You bend down with a coo and pick him up, scratching his head as he closes his eyes and continues to purr.

“Where’s your daddy?” You whisper to the cat.

He meows like he understands you, making you chuckle. The cool floor feels nice against your bare feet this time, a nice contrast to the heat flaring through the summer air. Alpine settles himself in your arms as you search for Bucky. Everything is quiet, no signs of anyone up and moving around, and you start to wonder if Bucky is up on that roof again when you walk by the kitchen. There’s a dark figure by the corner of your eye, but you don’t register it until Alpine starts squirming and you do a double take.

“Hey.” You put Alpine down.

Bucky nods at you and follows Alpine with his eyes as the cat rubs up against his owner, adding an arch to his spine.

“I was looking for you.” You explain when Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Hmm.” He hums nonchalantly.

You nod, because you don’t know what you want to say now that you have him and twindle your fingers together. This is… a lot harder than you expected it to be.

“Soo,” you start out. “How… are you?”

He shrugs. “‘M alright.”

Okay. You got that out of the way. Now let’s—

“Let’s go to my room.”

He’s whizzing past you before you can even blink, Alpine in tow. It takes you a moment before your muscles move and you’re following him. Your heart thuds wildly against your ribcage and you take a deep breath when his door comes into view.

Bucky has always been in a state between organized and messy. Most days you can’t even call it an organized mess, it’s more separate if you can make any sense of it. You’re reminded of this as soon as you walk in, stepping over a t-shirt and combat boots. “Sorry, sorry.” Bucky mumbles as he quickly ducks down to pick them up. The rest of his room is about the same, but it’s not too bad to make a big deal of.

“Can’t really sleep.” He offers an explanation.

“Ah.” You nod. “You got my problem now.”

He smirks mischievously and it shamefully sends a wave of blazing arousal through your body, ending at the pulsing ache quivering in need.

“It seems I do, doll.”

Is this—is this a double entendre? Is Bucky messing with you right now? Enjoying the way you’re trembling with a hold that’ll give everything away?

If so, he’s doing a fantastic job.

“So,” you clear the lodge in your throat. “S-so do you want to, uh, train? Like last time?” Okay, that might not be such a good idea—you won’t be able to control yourself then, you’re positive of it—but you genuinely do want to help him, so you’re willing to fight your animalistic pulses for the sake of your friend. No that—that doesn’t sound right. Just calling him your friend. Now, it’s leaving a distaste in your mouth.

He sits down on the edge of his bed—dark covers that match the aesthetics of his personality—and plants his elbows on his knees as he, dramatically you have to add, thinks thoughtfully with a slight pout to his perfect lips.

“Push ups.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Alright?”

“But I’m gonna need a little help.”

He leans forward, just a bit more, and—and maybe it’s just your uncontrollable imagination—his eyes are dark and blown wide.

Okay, your pussy is throbbing now, the pulse achingly worse in your clit. “O-okay.” You lick your dry lips.

His smirk widens and stretches to put his cup onto his nightstand, making his shirt pull up, showing you a sliver of chiseled abs on his toned stomach.

Holy fuck. You’re not going to make it.

Bucky catches your eye before he gets down on the carpet, the muscles in his back straining deliciously and mouth watering as he stretches his legs out and holds himself up by his palms.

“Sit on my back.”

“Wha—” You sputter with a slight giggle. “What just…just sit on you?”

“On my back, yes.” Bucky teases and glances up at you. “It’ll tire me out faster.”

It makes sense. Logically. And he does have more of an immunity than most. But you just can’t help but feel that this is part of a game of his, thinking of any and every way to torture you and watch you squirm in your helpless state.

You’re silent as you take short steps towards his crouched form and place a hand steadily on his broad shoulder. You check on his face, still as lucid and beautiful as ever, and carefully settle your weight atop his.

“Good?” You ask.

“Yes, so you can relax sweetheart.” He says without a strain. So you do as he says, sitting more comfortably on him and crossing your legs.

He bends his elbows and leans down, your fingers automatically gripping his shirt to gain more balance, and pushes himself back up at a steady pace, barely a noise coming from him. Each time he moves you feel his muscles stretch and tighten beneath you; you have to bite your lip to stop from digging your nails into his skin.

Alpine watches as Bucky continues the workout, all the while you’re sitting on him wondering just what you’re supposed to do other than sit here, anything to clear your head and appease the burning ache coursing through you.

“Say something.” He grunts.

“Like what?” You scoff despite yourself.

“I don’t know, talk about anything.” Up, down. A heavy breath. “Count for me then.”

“I don’t know how much you’ve done already.”

“Ten.” He answers immediately. Up. Down. “Eleven.” Up. Down. “Tw—“

“Twelve.” You interject with a mimicking tone. “Thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…sixteen…”

Up. Down. You highly doubt he’s even breaking a sweat right now as your body hobbles on the muscles of steel. Up. Down. A tick, sounds like from a watch, sounds lowly in the room, but to you it sounds like it’s echoing loudly through your ears. Up. Down. You need to tell him. Up. Down.

“Alp,” Bucky sighs annoyingly.

You look over and see the white glob bend its head down by Bucky’s wrist, and when Bucky leans down the cat boops his nose against his and sits.

“Oh no, c’mon.” Bucky complains. “Move.”

He tries to sweep Alpine away with one arm but you’re moving too, not holding on to him and when he leans most of his weight onto his left side, your body goes with it.

“Woah!” Your hands fly wildly as you attempt to grab onto something. That something happens to be soft and you mistake it for his shirt and pull.

“Hey—shitmhm!”

You freeze. He does too.

Did that…did that just happen?

The air is thick, so fucking thick, you’re not sure if you can breathe properly under the weight of it.

Now what the fuck do you say?

“Um are you—” you’re breathless, like you’ve been the one doing the push ups. “Are you okay?”

He still keeps his stance, Alpine long gone by now towards his bed most likely. You don’t care about that right now. All you can think about is how his arms flex as he keeps you up and how you can see his jaw tick; it shouldn’t turn you on, but that groan does nothing to help you as it echoes through the air silently.

“Buc—”

There’s a tug on your calf and suddenly the room is a blur. You feel yourself being pulled down and flipped onto your back, and again you brace yourself for impact but it’s—it’s just the soft carpet, and he’s leaning over you, legs between his now open ones with a dangerous look in his eyes that you can’t tear away from. A bead of sweat dribbles down the tip of his nose until it drips down onto your cheekbone, but that’s not even enough to break the spell you’re currently in. It breaks Bucky’s, however, because he curses and wipes the small line from your cheek and wipes the front of his face with an open palm.

You should say something. A word. Just something. He turns back to you and just…looks at you. And you look back. Breaths mix together, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and there’s a battle waging in his mind, you can see that in his eyes; they’re barely recognizable now, no blue or gray.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes you a second to register what he said. It’s soft, so fucking quiet and gentle that it pierces straight through your heart. Your stomach erupts in nerves and your legs tighten together on their own accord, pussy fluttering at the question.

Bucky waits patiently, never once moving a muscle. You lick your lips and that’s when he moves, a flicker of his eyes and a part of his lips.

You don’t answer him with words. You don’t think you can trust your voice enough to. Don’t think at all, actually. Instead you nod and wait with baited breath as he nods back, leisurely, and starts to lean in. It’s tentative, careful but eager. You never take your eyes off his, only when you feel the soft press of his lips against yours do you indulge yourself.

The kiss starts off slow. Barely even a kiss, just lips against lips. You crane your neck up and back a little and press harder against him, making him moan softly in the back of his throat and shit that’s one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard; you need to hear more of it.

Sensing your eagerness, he presses back and kisses you like you’re sure he did back in the 40’s, slinging every gal and wooing them with just a wink of an eye. His tongue traces the outline of your bottom lip and you open your mouth with a gasp, inviting his curious tongue into your warm crevasse. He sighs at the taste of you, swirling his tongue with yours in a fight you know he’ll win. Your hands lift up and wrap around his shoulders, pushing him down on to you. He presses down on your knee and you spread your legs for him to settle in between.

“Why—” He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connected to your lips trailing along as you whine from the loss. “Why did we wait so long to do that?”

You giggle, deep and low and he joins in with his own, harmonizing perfectly. “I don’t know,” you say. “That’s sorta my fault, I guess. I just—” you look away shyly.

Bucky places two fingers underneath your chin, prompting you to look at him. “Didn’t want to risk our friendship.” He finishes for you.

You nod. Your chest feels lighter now, a new sense of…of an increasing, raw excitement growing inside you. He must feel the same way, too, because he swoops back in for another kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. Your arms flex as you hold him still, running your hand up the nape of his neck and into his locks, gripping a handful of it to stable yourself. Bucky moans again and drops his hips into yours, where you feel the hardening outline of his cock through his sweatpants, grinding purposefully against yours.

“Bucky,” you gasp, moaning when his lips trail down your jaw and stop at your neck.

“I’m so sorry we ever waited this long,” he groans into the skin, planting a kiss on your rapid pulse. “You’re so fucking beautiful, малышка.

You don’t understand much Russian, but Bucky has been trying to teach you on and off and this one you understand; babygirl.

“Fuck.” You moan. He sucks a mark on your neck and bites down on it, making you whine and arch your back into him. He pushes back down, and his cock feels impossibly harder and you know he can feel your hot, dripping cunt, too.

“Please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for. “I-I need…”

“What?” He asks sweetly. When you continue to sputter at him, he gives a hard thrust against your clothed cunt.

“A-ah fuck.” You keen.

“Tell me what you want.” He orders. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you. C’mon.”

It feels like you can’t breathe. He hasn’t even been inside you yet and you’re already on the edge, chest heaving and thighs quivering with the anticipation.

Bucky suddenly drops down to his forearms, leaving a searing kiss that has you whimpering for more. “Want me to taste you?” He whispers huskily. “Like I dreamed?” His hands slide under your shirt, skimming against your sides. Your breath catches, caught in your throat as your skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Kiss that pretty pussy of yours? Fuck you with my fingers? Get you alll—“ He palms your breasts and pinches your nipple; you bite down on your lip hard, indents digging sharply through the tender flesh. “—nice and wet for my thick, fat cock? Would you like that, doll?”

Would you like that? You’d fucking kill for it.

“Yes!” You moan loudly. “Oh please Bucky, please.”

Bucky loves to see you beg. His dick twitches in response in his pants and you dig your nails into his back.

“Okay baby,” he says against your open mouth. “Get on the bed for me, legs spread.”

You don’t hesitate as soon as he lifts off you. You crawl on the bed with shaky limbs and lay on your back on his pillow; it smells distinctly Bucky, filling your senses with fueled desire.

Bucky looks at you like you’re fucking treasure. Like you’re the sun, the moon, everything to him, and it makes you blush and flutter under the intensity of it. You hold your arms out with a slight pout.

“Please?”

He huffs a chuckle and reaches behind him to pull his shirt over his head. Your mouth waters at the beautiful specimen before you; you want to kiss the faint scars that littler his body. He pulls down his pants next but keeps his boxers on, the outline of his hard cock prominent and strained through the fabric; if it’s bothering him, he’s doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

Bucky crawls towards you, slow and with a curve, like a predator capturing its prey. You reach out for him and grab his shoulders, pulling him towards you for a kiss. His lips, slightly chapped but otherwise soft, move against yours in perfect synchrony, as if your bodies are already so in tune with each other. He breaks the kiss, diving back to lick your top lip, and slides the palm of his hands back up under your shirt, this time pulling the fabric with him. You help him slide the shirt off and throw it casually across the room; your nipples perk under his wandering and trumpeting gaze.

“Fuck, doll,” he whispers.

Before you can react he leans down and envelopes your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the perky bud. You gasp and hold his head to your chest while his hands grip down on your hips, hard enough to where you know there’s going to be bruises. He bites down on the bud, causing you to roll your hips against his and your toes to curl.

“Bucky.” You whisper, just because he’s all you can see and feel and smell…

He lets go of your breast with a pop and trails his kisses down the valley between your breasts and to your stomach, stopping at the pant line.

“Yes.” You say before he can ask. “Please, Bucky. I need you to touch me.”

“I already am, sweetheart.” He replies innocently.

You don’t want to argue right now. “James.”

He laughs and dips his fingers inside the waistband, the cool metal making you shiver. “You know,” he says as he drags your pants down your legs at an agonizing pace. “I kinda like it when you say my name like that.”

You chuckle, but it comes out weird and without much air. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He bites your hip bone, making your hips jump and your pussy clench. “James.”

Keeping your eyes on him—somehow, you know that he wants you to keep watching him—Bucky licks the very same spot he just bit and catches his teeth on the lining of your panties, pulling back and tugging at the flimsy fabric. The act alone almost makes you cum.

You moan lowly and lift your hips to help him pull them down your legs, kicking them off once they’re at your ankles.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, his breath hot against your pussy; if it weren’t for his broad shoulders, you would’ve closed your legs to relieve the pressure. “You’re fucking dripping, baby. Did I do that to you?”

You swallow and open your mouth, but no words come out. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, cut off from oxygen. Bucky grimaces and slaps your thigh with his flesh hand, making you cry out.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes.” You stutter. “Fuck, Bucky yes, only you.”

He grins and kisses the top of your pubic mound, gripping your thighs tighter and scooching closer to the bed. “Gonna taste you.” He whispers, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than you.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, waiting for him. You think he might slap you again if you continue moving, so you will yourself to relax and…and wait. Because he can’t stop fucking staring at you, and kissing everywhere but where you want him the most and it’s so frustrating you’re going to cry.

“Pl-EASE!”

His hot, wet tongue slides up the strip of your folds and settles around your clit, circling the sensitive bundle. You preen into his mouth and clutch at the bedsheets, already writhing against him. He immediately throws an arm—his right one—over your lower stomach and pins your hips down, preventing you from moving an inch away or towards him; you’re completely under his will.

Bucky explores the velvety slit of your pussy, humming all the while like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The groans that are escaping you doesn’t sound like you, doesn’t feel like they’re coming from you, but they are and it finally catches up to you—James Buchannon Barnes, your friend, best friend, your co-worker, is eating your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.

“Oh fu—” He nips carefully at your clit. You can’t focus. Not on your words, your surroundings, nothing but Bucky and the sensations he’s bring you. Every lick and suck on your pussy has you keening into his unbreakable hold, whining and clutching the sheets until you’re sure you’re going to tear right through them. This is too much, way too fucking much but you’re so close, so desperate for him, that you’ll—

He slurps lewdly and loudly, making you throw your head back and choke on a moan. “Bu-Bucky I—I need…”

He pulls back just slightly enough to say, “I know.” And he shifts, getting ready to switch arms.

No. Oh no no no no.

Your hand darts out and stops him. Gulping, you wordlessly place his flesh arm back on your stomach and reach for his metal fingers. Bucky’s eyes widen as soon as he figures it out and stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head.

“R-really?” He asks indubely. “You want me to—Jesus baby you—fuck.”

“Please.” You whine. “I can take it.”

He—he snarls and buries his face back into your weeping pussy, attaching his lips around your clit. You gurgle out a low curse and feel his cold fingers prod at your gaping entrance.

“You sure?” He asks cautiously.

“If you don’t I will literally—OH!” One thick, wide finger breaches through your hole and slides into your cunt with ease, curling as soon as he’s knuckle deep. Your body spasms, like you’ve just been electrocuted, and your fingers curl in his hair.

“Taste fucking delicious,” he begins to babble. “Sweet like candy. Nevr’ gonna get enough of it, doll, never.” He pumps his finger in and out of you, curling each time he slides back in, brushing up against your sweet spot. After a few pumps, he dips another in, stretching you.

“Bucky I’m—” The coil in your lower stomach tightens, your pussy fluttering against his fingers painfully, but in a way that’s everything pleasurable. “Oh fuck I’m gonna c-cum.”

His lips are around your clit again, fingers pumping faster now to the point where you can hear the squelches from your cunt, and without any warning he sucks. Hard.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” It comes out of you without preamble, mindless babbling that doesn’t even make sense at all. Your thighs cage his head, shaking and quivering as your orgasm approaches. “I’m g-go-gonna—” Your pussy clenches harshly around his thick digits and you’re gone. White flashes behind your eyelids, a numbness searing through your entire core as you shake and gush around his fingers, and a strange sound emanates through the room again; you don’t have to question who it is.

Bucky works you through your release, moaning and lapping at everything you have to give him. Eventually you come down when it becomes too painful to bear and you push his head away from you. Giving your clit one last kiss that makes you whimper, he stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking down at you all the matter.

“You did so good, baby.” He praises you; you shutter, legs jumping slightly as your body flexes. “Gonna let me fuck you? Huh, babygirl?”

You’ll let this man do anything to you. Your limbs feel like jello, but find enough strength to keep your legs open and open your arms invitingly to him. He makes a show of pulling his boxers down, your eyes following the patch of dark hair and bulges at the long, thick cock that slaps against the hard plains of his stomach, precum smearing from the red angry tip. Next time—and you really fucking hope there will be a next time—you’re going to put him in your mouth.

“Like what you see?” There’s more of that cocky, playboy Bucky Barnes you’ve heard so much about.

“Yes.” You answer honestly. “Kiss me.”

The bed shifts slightly and creaks under his weight as he crawls towards you and locks his lips with yours; you can still taste yourself on his lips, sweet and tangly. The tip of his head brushes against your clit as he lays down on top of you, hot and smearing more of his precum across your stomach.

“Fuck me,” you moan into him.

Bucky groans lowly and you reach down to grab his cock; it’s hot, thick enough to where your fingers don’t reach and pulsing in your hand. “Shit.” He hisses, hips stuttering in your grasp.

Nex time, you’re going to tease him, too; give him a piece of his own medicine. You would now, but this has been a long time coming and you’re tired of waiting, so you line him up at your entrance and keep your hand on him as he slowly pushes in.

He moans your name the same time you moan his, looking down to watch himself sink into your warm depths. He stops when he’s balls deep, and you feel so full that you’re positive the tip of him is about near your cervix.

“Bucky.” You wiggle beneath him. “Move.”

“I got you, princess.” He croaks. “I got you.”

Pushing himself down on his forearms, Bucky pulls out painfully slow, his dick already wet and slick with your juices, and pushes back in. You roll your hips into his thrusts, taking him deeper. Every single muscle in his body flexes under your touch as you wrap your arms around his back, rolling into you with perfect thrusts that hits a spot deep inside you. You're too wired, too engrossed with the fact that it’s him, that your still overly sensitive pussy clenches around his cock.

“Baby,” his voice presses sweet and deep in his throat as he gasps. “I’m not—fuck I’m sorry I-I’m not—”

“It’s okay.” You tell him breathlessly, pressing your forehead against his and giving his lips a quick peck. “Just fuck me, Bucky. Use me, like I’ve dreamed of.”

Bucky chokes, eyes wild and neck red, and pulls almost all the way out until the tip is barely in and thrusts back in harshly. You cry out and dig your nails into his bare skin, leaving angry marks in their wake. He grabs your leg and hitches it over his hip, bringing his arm back down to wrap around you.

“You ever touch yourself thinking about me, doll?” He grits. “Huh? Have you?”

How—oh Jesus fuck how are you supposed to answer that when he’s fucking you so deep that you can barely remember your own name. Your pussy clenches in answer to what he already knows, and that gets him to grind down at you; the curls of his hair brush heavenly against your clit. “Yeah, you have, haven’t you?”

Pleasure rips through as his hips meet your harder and faster, the slap of skin against skin becoming louder and louder, as is your cries, but you don’t care if the whole fucking world hears you.

“You’re tight,” he gasps, closing his eyes. “How are you s-so fucking—fuck tight?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that, but the only thing you can do is bring him down to kiss you again, clashing teeth as you moan and cling to him. He breaks the kiss and buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. His arms slide back down to grope your ass cheeks and lift your lower half up to meet more of his heavy and hurried thrusts.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warns you in a moan.

You kiss his neck while your hand slides down his back to grope at his ass—as if you can push him even more deeper inside of you—and you lick his earlobe, tugging at the end with your teeth until he shivers.

“I want you to cum,” you whisper seductively in his ear. “Sergeant, please.”

Sergeant. Sergeant. You have no idea where it came from, but as soon as the words leave your mouth he growls and starts to plow you, fingers digging into your flesh as his hips snap into yours.

“Shit. Oh fuck babygirl I can—I can’t.” His rhythm falters, your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, trying to get his cock to say within you after each delicious drag against your walls. He whines—a pitiful, deep whine that resonates throughout the shocked nerves—and you can’t—

“I’m cumming.” You manage to break out. “B-buck—fuck.”

Your ankles cross around his waist, and it takes his teeth in your neck to have you cry out onto the ceiling as your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in and clenching until your muscles feel spent and sore.

“Oh God,” Bucky whimpers and it sends another wave through you, making him sputter and choke as his hips slam into you unevenly. “Shit shit, fuck.”

“Please baby.” You encourage softly. “Cum.”

He abruptly pulls out, your protest lodged in your throat as you feel the hot, thick ropes of cum spurt out onto your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck.” Bucky continues to gasp, his hand flying to his weeping cock and fisting it.

You moan as a few more land on your chest, painting your body with his pearly white cum; you know it’s over when he starts to slump. Without a second thought, he pushes back into you. “Bucky.” You can only say in slight confusion and pain.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I just—“ he winces as his hips connect with yours again. “—just wanna feel ya. Too good.” He slurs.

He kisses you then, slow and unhurried unlike earlier. This kiss says so much more in its language, lost in the dance of your lips. He trails his lips up to your forehead and places the softest and faintest of kisses there before settling on your chest.

You hum and rub his back soothingly. You’re both sweaty and sticky—Bucky doesn’t seem to mind this fact as he presses himself closer to you—and your body is satisfyingly numb and exhausted. Finally exhausted for what seems like ages.

Once the haze evaporates from your mind, questions start flying: what does this mean for you and Bucky now? When and how do you tell the others? What does this mean for missions? What does—?

“Stop thinking.” Bucky mumbles, voice covered by the breast he’s laid his head on. “Too loud.”

He’s right. This time, it can wait.

You smile and whisper an apology, snuggling deeper into the hug. You try to get comfortable, but the sticky evidence is drying uncomfortably on your skin.

“Bucky,” you sigh. “We gotta shower.”

You feel his nose squint. “Few more minutes.”

You fall asleep before those few minutes are up.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfic

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hawkinsindiana · 4 years ago

Text

were you ever going to tell me?

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER THREE OF TEN (?)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 3.5k

a/n: god damn.... it’s been a while. happy fuckin’ new year! hope you enjoy one of the most angst ridden chapters ruby and i have ever written. also pretty sure there’s going to be ten chapters! obvi i will inform you if that changes! hope you all have been staying safe and healthy! mwah!

masterlist

You and Steve haven’t spoken since Friday night when it slipped from your lips how you’ve felt - how you’ve felt about him for a year.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that it’s over. You should’ve known better than to keep something like that from him, that’s overwhelming information for anyone to receive. Even though the words “we’re done” haven’t been said, you’re positive that they don’t need to be.

And Steve - god, he hasn’t known what to think about it all. Unconsciously, he’s spent the last two days reliving everything, and of course you had feelings for him. You threw away so much for him and he rarely returned the favor. He almost hates how devoted you were - no, he doesn’t mean that.

He can’t mean that.

Steve’s wanted to reach out every moment that you two have been apart. He doesn’t blame you for the fact that you haven’t, he can’t imagine what’s going on inside your head; he assumes you’re pissed beyond belief.

The school day’s been tough. Knowing that Steve’s here and inside these walls, it makes you flare up with embarrassment and shame. You can’t wait to get out of here.

Jonathan’s voice startles you a bit when he approaches your locker, just passing by on his way out to say goodbye. Concern blooms from within him at the way you hold yourself, how your eyes can’t seem to focus on anything in particular as you turn the dial.

He clears his throat as he tries to come with something to discuss, “So, uh - do anything else fun over the weekend? Will told me you watched something spooky. Hopefully Dustin wasn’t too annoying this time.”

Jonathan laughs, crossing his arms over his chest, “Like remember that time we took them to see Cujo? I felt so bad for the other people in the theater.”

“I, um-“ You stutter over your words as you swing the door open, mind flashing back to events on Friday, “No, I didn’t do anything else this weekend. It was pretty shitty, actually.”

“Bummer,” Jonathan leans against the column as you unzip your backpack and begin to unload your belongings. His brow furrows further once he notices something else is off, until he finally realizes what.

“Steve’s runnin’ late today,” Jonathan checks his watch, “You two are typically joined at the hip right about now.”

And by the way your jaw clenches and your actions freeze slightly, Jonathan can tell he unwillingly struck a nerve.

Your throat starts to close up as you think about him again, feeling the familiar burning sensation behind your eyes, “I haven’t, uh, I haven’t seen him. I don’t know where he is.”

Jonathan watches you intently. He hasn’t seen you like this in a while - not since the day after Halloween. The puzzle starts to put itself together.

He leans in a touch closer; his whispers are covered by the rustling sound of you putting on your windbreaker, “Did something happen? Are you two… you know, good?”

You’re an inch away from whisking Jonathan somewhere else to tell him everything. Over the past few months - but especially over the last couple days - you’ve been tempted to let the secret spill. Keeping all your feelings in, both the good and the bad, doesn’t feel like such a good idea anymore.

You figured that Nancy would be the person you’d tell. While it’d probably be awkward at first, she is the one who told you to go for it, regardless of the past.

But Jonathan’s right here. And someone else has to know.

“You can’t tell anyone else,” You say, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. Your tone matches his, quiet and hushed underneath the obnoxiously loud commotion of the hallway.

Jonathan’s face twists; both curiosity and concern is laced throughout his expression, “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

The experiences you’ve shared will bond you forever. You’d trust Jonathan with your life - you figure he can handle this piece of information too.

A deep sigh passes from your lips. You don’t know why you’re so scared to admit this.

“Steve and I, we - we’re, uh…” Your hand moves absently in the air as you try to find the words. But when you trail off in search of them, your silence says enough. Jonathan’s brow raises in realization - it all makes so much sense.

And Jonathan goes to answer, mouth opening but he doesn’t get to respond. Instead, his attention is brought to your side. He kicks your shoe to grab your gaze, which moves quickly between Jonathan’s eyes, and where they landed.

You avert your focus from Steve as soon as you see that it’s him. The quick glance is enough to transport you to that night, and the emotions you felt watching him leave.

“Hey,” Steve speaks softly as he comes up beside you, sending a nod and light wave to Jonathan before he leans in a touch closer, “Can we talk?”

Jonathan takes that as his cue to leave - he wishes you both a good-bye. As your friend disappears into the crowd, you bite down onto the inside of your lip.

“Yeah,” Your voice trembles, afraid because this is it. You can’t bring your gaze to meet Steve’s again, “Yeah sure.”

“Let’s uh-” Steve mutters, clearing his throat as you pull the collar of your coat away from your neck. His eyes fly around the hallway, catching sight of the other students that mill around in the space. Not here.

Steve exhales before he speaks, “What do you say we go for a drive?”

—

Every few seconds, Steve’s eyes drift between the empty road and you; your leg bounces wildly in the silence. He’s trying to figure out how to compile his thoughts - he doesn’t even know where to begin.

The longer you both sit without speaking, the more anxious you become. You wish you had an inkling of what he plans to say. You wish you could prepare.

Steve shifts in his seat, voice faltering a bit, “Um, are you... hungry? Wanna grab something?”

God, you hate how considerate he can be.

You lean your head against the hand you propped on the armrest. You haven’t taken your eyes away from the landscape beyond the window since buckling in. It takes every fabric of your being to try and forget that Steve’s beside you; it’s the only way you can attempt to calm yourself down.

It doesn’t help that every time you’re in Steve’s car, you’re surrounded by memories.

Like when you spent ten minutes explaining the chemistry assignment, only for him to grab your notes and toss them into the front seat.

You protested, about ready to smack him when his fingers danced over your jaw, pulling you closer. He kissed you for a moment before muttering against your lips, “I think I’d rather study our chemistry instead.”

You couldn’t take him seriously after that comment; you laughed until your stomach hurt. Steve couldn’t even be offended, the sound of your giggles only brought a smile to his face.

“I don’t what you think is so funny,” He quipped, smirking as he looked back at you, “That was one of my best ones!”

You scoffed, “You say a lot of cheesy shit, Harrington. But that? That was the worst one out of them all.”

Steve didn’t get a chance to reply, because you took his face in between your palms and kissed him. Your love for him is more powerful than all the horrible jokes and puns he could come up with. In fact, they only made you love him more.

How different that moment was in comparison to the one you’re in now. You figure that it’ll take everything you have to try and get over him.

“I’m not hungry,” You say curtly, with a tone much harsher than you intended. You immediately regret it.

“I’m sorry, I just…” The sentence falls short, you’re not sure where it was going. You felt the need to apologize for something. This is your fault, after all.

Steve hears you curse under your breath as you ponder how to continue. Another moment passes.

You sigh before leaning back against the seat, the anger at yourself only grows with each passing second, “God, I fucked up-”

“You’re not the one who fucked up,” Steve interrupts suddenly. He runs his fingers through his hair aggressively, irritated by his own actions from the other night. He never should have left.

“Sometimes I just…” Steve pauses as he stops the car at a red light, “I can’t believe how selfless you are. And I just don’t know how to handle it most of the time.”

“I can’t imagine putting my own feelings aside for a whole year, just for another person’s happiness. I’m not sure if that’s selfish or not.”

Steve takes a deep breath, relishing in the admittance of his guilt. He figures that’s something he should do more often - he carries so much of it with him.

Barb. Nancy. The endless list of others who were touched by his lack of empathy.

And now you. It might be too late to make it up to them, but he can certainly try to make it up to you. Hopefully, you can forgive him in time.

“It was a second. A second, and then I turned and realized how it seemed, that I didn’t want you anymore but I do. God, I do.”

You start tearing up a bit because his words hit you harder than you were expecting, “You turned back?”

Steve looks to you briefly before he nods, “Right as you locked the door, yeah.”

He doesn’t give you time to reply; he continues speaking as the light turns green, “I’m just so lucky to have you. And I’m sorry. I never should have left that day.”

In that moment, the relief floods your face. Once again, you expected the worst - you’ll have to learn to stop doing that. Especially with Steve.

But Steve grows more concerned over what your expression implies. The anxiety you displayed wasn’t for no reason, he figures.

“You weren’t worried about anything besides that, right? You didn’t think I was gonna… break up with you, were you?”

His voice is so weak with emotion because all you’ve shown him has been devotion and love and more affection than he could’ve dreamed of; this is how he pays it back? Your silence is answer enough.

A tear finally rolls down your cheek, but you can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders at these revelations. The only sound is that of the rain that’s begun to hit the windshield. It’s strangely soothing after the previous conversation.

Steve reaches over the center console to hold your hand in his; you laugh and sniffle a bit, wiping your eyes as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “We’re not very good at this, are we?”

Steve's looking a little downtrodden - as you’re sure you are too - but his eyes are shining and he’s grinning, so it can’t be that bad.

“No,” He chuckles too, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand tenderly, “But we’ll learn.”

—

The following weeks are fairly uneventful in regards to your relationship. Since that day, you’ve been more transparent with each other. While you were afraid the truth would only cause pain, it’s actually brought you peace.

It hasn’t gotten any easier to face your brother, unfortunately. Every time you mention that Steve’s picking you up, Dustin’s eyes grow wide.

“Can I come?” He begs. You always sigh - you both know that the answer is yes. Neither you nor Steve can ever seem to say no to Dustin. Especially now that a few of the kids have begun to couple up, your brother is lonelier than ever.

While Steve might love the kid, that doesn’t mean he’s thrilled to see Dustin by your side every time. The glares that Steve sends your brother when he isn’t looking puts you in stitches.

Steve can handle your brother crashing your dates - he figured that might happen. He wasn’t prepared to attempt to avoid all of them.

You were sure that you would finally be able to see this movie together with Dustin at Will’s with the others for the weekend. You leaned into Steve’s side, with his arm over your shoulder, just subtle enough to go unnoticed in the darkness of the theater.

It’s some cheesy film - neither of you knows or even cares what the title is because you get to be that couple at the movies, when out of nowhere-

“Hey guys! You didn’t tell me you were coming, we’ve missed like a quarter of the movie!”

You and Steve scramble to part; Steve goes beet red, hissing under his breath, “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!”

“He wasn’t! I don’t know how he even found out!”

Dustin plops himself in the seat next to yours, popcorn spilling onto the ground, “What did I miss?”

Steve coughs and it brings Dustin’s attention to the blush on his face, “Were… were you guys gettin’ cozy?”

“No!” You both exclaim; several people shush you in the audience.

Dustin’s not sure he believes you. He offers you his box of Milk Duds, “Want some?”

His offer only fuels your annoyance with him further, “No, I don’t want any! What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were at Will’s!”

Dustin gestures next to him as he shrugs, dumping the box of chocolates into his tub of popcorn, “Yeah, but we got bored. Mike mentioned the idea, and Max wanted to see this anyways!”

Steve groans when he sees the pack of them settling into the seats next to your brother, each of them with snacks in each hand. Mike tilts his drink towards your boyfriend, his smirk growing with every second. Steve decides telling Mike your Friday night plans is no longer a good idea.

With all of that aside, there is one thing that has been bothering Steve. He decides to inquire about it one night.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Steve questions; his voice breaks the silence. In the darkness, his eyes are trained on the pale color of the ceiling, absently focused on nothing. He doesn’t understand why it’s been on his mind, because it’s not important anymore. You’re together now, that’s all that matters. Right?

But it’s been keeping him awake - the curiosity. He’s not used to that.

“Hm?” Exhausted, that’s all you can muster as a response. You’re tucked against his side - every time he breathes, you rise with the motion. You like the reminder that Steve’s really here, lying with you in the late night’s twilight.

“How you felt. About me.”

Oh.

He doesn’t need to elaborate further because you know how his mind works. It’s likely that he’s been obsessively picking apart your words, trying to find any glimmer of hope; they were devastating to him.

Your chest heaves before answering, almost afraid of giving him the reason. Softening your tone, you finally answer him, “No, no I wasn’t.”

Steve has a thousand thoughts swirling through his head now; it doesn’t make any sense that you’d want to keep yourself from a chance at happiness. He has so many things he wants to tell you, wants to ask you - but he only comes up with one.

“Why?”

It’s quiet, quieter than anything spoken so far. It seems silly, but his question contains so much sadness because he doesn’t understand it. It’s only three letters, but each one makes your body flood with emotion. And even though it’s right there, in the forefront of your mind, you can’t bring yourself to tell him.

“Maybe, if you did...” Steve continues when you don’t, carefully trying to navigate the topic, “We could’ve been happy. Not-not that I’m sayin’ we aren’t now, of course.”

His nerves calm a bit when a light laugh bubbles from you, grinning a bit as you tighten your hold on him - he returns it quickly.

It’s a short moment of joy, because Steve’s brow furrows as his mind keeps running, “But maybe it could’ve been sooner. We could’ve been together.”

Your cheeks flush at this idea he proposes; that maybe he would’ve wanted to be with you earlier if you had just said something. But you’re still not so sure.

“Steve,” You sigh as you pull away from him, sitting up so you can meet his gaze, “You don’t know that. Maybe it had to happen this way.”

He doesn’t like that. Steve wants to believe that out there somewhere, there’s a chance he could’ve been there for you sooner. That there’s a chance you two would’ve been able to avoid all the heartache, the uncertainty, and the anger that you were left with instead.

“Besides,” You shift to cross your legs, further tangling them in the sheets as you ponder, “Do you really think you would’ve left Nancy for me?”

And then Steve props himself up to mirror you, watching how your eyes catch the glow from the streetlight just beyond your window. He’s not sure what his answer would have been, if he really thinks about it.

“You still could’ve said something. I mean, I don’t know what I would’ve done but, I wouldn’t have just…gotten rid of you.”

Steve adjusts to move closer, desperately trying to think of anything he could say to make the situation better. Although he’s not sure he’d ever be able to, not after what he did. Unknowingly, as you’ve pointed out countless times, it doesn’t make his heart ache any less.

“You loved her,” You mutter, voice soft; your gaze cast down towards your hands, “And I didn’t think you’d ever see me differently. If all I was going to be was your friend, then that was better than never having you at all. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was something.”

It’s Steve’s turn not to say anything, because you’re not wrong. It’s true that he didn’t start developing feelings for you until after Nancy had left, and that you were only a friend in his eyes before then. And even though he knows that’s the truth, it still hurts to hear it come from you. It hurts to hear that you never believed you had an opportunity.

“I made the choice not to tell you, Steve,” You finally turn to face him and his soft brown eyes are patiently awaiting your final answer, “I didn’t want it to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He pauses after scoffing slightly, “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to choose. And we know now that she didn’t love you, but I-” The sentence stops before you can end it, as if it was pulled right from your mouth, like every other time you’ve tried to.

But something’s different now. Your heart isn’t pounding, cheeks aren’t scarlet with embarrassment; part of you wonders if it’s because you think he already knows.

And with another breath, another sigh, you finally finish it.

“But I do.”

You chuckle as you become overwhelmed with your own emotions. You can’t help the smile that begins to creep up over your lips, realizing you’re finally comfortable enough to tell him how you feel.

“I’m so in love with you. And I’d never want to do anything to hurt you. Ever. I always thought that if I told you, it’d do more harm than good so… I chose not to do anything about it. You were happy and god... the last thing I have ever wanted to do was take that away from you. So I figured I would just let it tear me apart until I didn’t feel it anymore.”

You feel so much lighter - every card you’ve ever kept from him is now on the table. There’s nothing hidden anymore.

“You don’t, um-“ You mutter, hands placed gingerly into your lap. Your head shakes - almost in disbelief - you can’t believe what you just admitted to him, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Right away, Steve opens his mouth to respond, but you stop him before he can utter a single word. He’s not even sure what he was going to say, if he’s honest with himself. But you deserve to hear something after that admission, he thinks - it’s the very least he could do.

You know how Nancy’s lie affected him; he’s not required to admit anything that he’s not ready to, “No, it’s fine, Steve. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

How very odd for Steve, to be the one receiving this confession, the admittance of your feelings, your love and knowing that you expect nothing in return. He’s used to being on the other side of it truthfully, pouring out his heart and being left on a line - Nancy's hesitation louder than any words.

Steve doesn’t want to - he knows for sure that you wouldn’t want him to - but he feels guilty. But this love is so different from Nancy’s and he has to learn it all again, until it’s comfortable against the thrum in his heart. You’ve had plenty of time to learn to love him and he? Well, he’s on his way.

— taglist: @stevebabey / @mrsukai / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want to be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #st fic #steve harrington imagine #st imagine #my writing #almost paradise

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years ago

Note

#8 "Come here, I'll carry you." for WinterIron. Can you add some smut to it please? Thank you.

this took longer than expected, but it's finally done! thank you for sending one, and i hope you like :)

it is most definitely explicit lol

“This is why I don’t go hiking,” Tony complains, wincing when Bucky gingerly touches his left ankle. It doesn’t look too badly injured, probably not even a sprain, but it doesn’t stop Tony from telling him I told you so. “I said that I would trip and fall and roll down the mountain, and then I would die there, at the bottom of a cliff for birds to scavenge my body until I’m just a pile of bones.”

“You twisted your ankle on a root, baby,” Bucky says, amused in spite of all of the grumbling. It doesn’t help that Tony’s disgruntled, pouty face is one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. “I don’t think you’re going to die.”

“There’s still a chance.”

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly, standing from where he was crouched next to Tony on the ground. He holds out his hand, and Tony takes it to get back to his feet.

Despite all the complaining, Tony doesn’t actually like looking weak. He hides pain and discomfort and doesn’t let himself get taken care of very often. Bucky knows that too well by now, after nearly a year together, and it’s why he easily notices the grimace Tony tries to disguise with each step.

He stops walking, making Tony turn back to look at him when he realizes it.

“Come here,” Bucky says. At Tony’s questioning look, he adds, “Come here, and I’ll carry you.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, “Seriously?”

“Seriously. We’ve only got about another quarter mile to the cabin, you’re in pain, and it’s not like you weigh much anyway.” Bucky takes another couple steps forward, hands on Tony’s hips, and he whispers into Tony’s ear, “I was strong enough to hold you up against the wall yesterday, remember?”

He smirks as Tony shivers, and he tucks a strand of Tony’s hair back, brushing his fingers against his skin to feel the goosebumps rise on it. “Bet I could carry you all the way back and still have the energy to do it again.”

Tony laughs, shoving playfully at Bucky’s shoulder. “Alright, I didn’t really need that much convincing. I was already going to let you do it.”

“Let me?” Bucky repeats, shaking his head with a smile. “I didn’t realize you were doing me favors here.”

He turns around and crouches lower to let Tony climb onto him, holding onto his thighs to support him when he rises up again with Tony on his back and his arms wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. Tony’s legs tighten around Bucky’s torso, and he tucks his face into the side of Bucky’s neck to kiss him there. Teasingly, he says, “We both know you like this even more than I do. Being my big, strong hero. Pretty sure it’s a kink for you.”

Bucky grins as he starts back down the trail. “I ain’t admittin’ to nothing.”

Tony hums, and he loosens the elastic holding Bucky’s bun in place to tangle his fingers into his hair. He pulls a little, another thing he knows that Bucky likes, and his voice is seductively low when he says, “You don’t have to admit it, darling. I already know.”

“You keep that up, and I’m gonna drop you,” Bucky warns, and he can feel Tony’s smile against his skin.

“You’d never drop me.”

“Wanna test that theory?”

He lets go of Tony’s thighs for just a second, letting his legs fall a bit before grabbing on again, and he gets Tony’s screaming laughter in return as he clutches onto Bucky tighter.

“If you let me fall off a cliff, I’m coming back as a ghost to haunt you for the rest of your life. Not the nice Casper kind either. I’m talking full blown poltergeist.”

“The rest of my life, huh? That’s a lot of commitment.”

“Well, you’re already stuck with human me for that long anyway. Ghost me should get to have some fun too,” Tony reasons. “I’ll start with you, seeing as you’d be the one responsible for my untimely demise, but Clint’s really going to regret that prank he pulled on me last week by the time I’m done.”

“Can you haunt Sam a little too? He’s got a thing about ghosts.”

“Oh, I’ll get you all, don’t worry.”

Bucky twists to look at him and asks, “Why does it sound like you’ve thought about this before?”

“I’m naturally vengeful,” Tony grins, and Bucky laughs.

“Sure you are, honey.”

The cabin for their weekend getaway is back in sight through the trees, just a few hundred feet away now, and Tony seems to view its appearance as the perfect time to continue on the track of their earlier conversation. He twirls a strand of Bucky’s hair around his finger and says, “So are you really going to fuck me against the wall when we get back? Because I was leaning towards the shower first, then again in bed after, but I’m pretty flexible. Very flexible, actually, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Tony kisses the spot beneath his ear, mouth lingering there before trailing lower. Bucky groans, and his fingers flex on Tony’s thighs.

“Baby, can’t you be patient for just one more minute?”

“Nope,” Tony says lightly. He hooks a finger in the collar of Bucky’s shirt to pull it to the side to revisit a mark he left the day before and trace it with his tongue. “Maybe you should walk faster.”

Bucky does, carefully sidestepping the larger rocks and fallen branches and trying not to get distracted by Tony’s wandering hands. He takes the stairs up the front porch two at a time and clumsily fumbles with the handle on the door while Tony slips a hand into the front of his pants.

Dropping Tony back down to his own feet, he turns immediately and presses him against the closed door. Tony laughs into it at first, presumably at his eagerness, but it fades into a moan as Bucky grinds against him.

“Such a fucking tease, aren’t you?” Bucky murmurs, biting down gently on the tendon on the side of Tony’s neck. Tony moans, hands finding Bucky’s hair again and tugging to spur him on.

“Can you really blame me when this is what I get for it?” Tony asks in stuttered breaths as Bucky puts his knee between Tony’s legs to push them apart.

Bucky hums in consideration, then pulls back abruptly when he gets the idea. Tony blinks at him dazedly with a noise of protest, and Bucky smirks as he traces the pout of his bottom lip with his thumb. “I should make you work harder for it, then. Can’t just keep rewarding you for bad behavior, can I?”

“Yes, you can,” Tony whines, grabbing at his t-shirt to pull him in again.

Bucky puts his hands on the door on either side of Tony’s, elbows locked to keep his arms straight, and doesn’t give Tony as much as an inch. “Don’t think so, honey.”

Tony gives him an indignant look, but it quickly morphs into another one that Bucky recognizes well. It’s his defiant, you’ll regret this by the time that I’m done look, but Bucky already knows he won’t have a single regret. Not when it starts with Tony popping the button on Bucky’s pants and sliding them down his hips.

Every movement is slow, and it’s almost graceful when Tony drops down to his knees in front of him.

“You want me to earn it?” he asks. His wide eyes give the illusion of an innocence they both know he doesn’t have, and he holds Bucky’s gaze while palming him through his boxers.

Bucky nods, carding his fingers through Tony’s soft, unruly hair, then letting them drift down to caress his cheek. Tony leans into the touch like it's a subconscious reaction, and he turns his head to kiss his palm. The tender moment doesn’t last long once Tony wraps his mouth around Bucky’s fingers and swirls his tongue like a preview.

Bucky’s hips jerk forward into Tony’s hand on their own accord, and he groans at the pressure. He’s been half-hard since Tony first started this back on the trail, and now he’s aching with how much he wants him.

Pulling his fingers out of Tony’s mouth, he drags them across Tony’s lips to leave them spit slick, then frees his cock from the confines of his boxers. Tony wraps his hands around Bucky’s calves to urge him forward, and Bucky guides the tip of his cock into his waiting mouth.

“So good, baby,” Bucky murmurs, pushing his hair back from his forehead to get a better view of his face, and he watches Tony’s eyes brighten at the praise.

He’s completely pliant for Bucky to use his mouth, and Bucky plans to take full advantage of the opportunity. He slides in a little deeper and groans at the feeling of wet heat around him, forehead hitting the wall with a loud sound as his head falls forward.

“Just pinch me if it’s too much, alright?” Bucky says, and Tony nods the best he can. “Once to slow down, twice to stop.”

It’s still a little careful and cautious at first. He tests the limits slowly, inch by inch, pulling back when he feels Tony’s throat contract around him. He does it again, then once more when Tony makes no move to stop him and instead moans around him. It’s the permission he was waiting for to completely let go, and when he has it, there’s no further hesitation.

His hand fists into Tony’s hair, holding him still, and he watches every rough thrust of his cock into Tony’s mouth.

He’s beautiful like this, and the visual is nearly as good as the feeling itself. Eyes watery with tears that threaten to spill over his lash line and spit wetting his chin from where his reddened lips stretch around him. He isn’t going to last long at all with Tony looking at him like that, and every sound that escapes Tony’s throat only pushes him even further.

“You’re fucking perfect, baby,” Bucky groans out. “So pretty on your knees for me.”

His nails dig at the wall as he tries to keep himself upright on shaky legs, eyes twisting shut. He loses himself in the moment for god only knows how long. Tony swallows around him occasionally, but otherwise doesn’t move so much as an inch, even with how obviously hard he is in his jeans.

The hand in Tony’s hair falls slack as he nears the end, and it’s apparently a mistake, because suddenly Tony’s mouth is gone from around him. He opens his eyes again, and Tony is wiping his chin with the back of his hand as he stands.

“Now that’s called being a tease,” Tony says, voice hoarse but entirely smug. He turns towards the bedroom and gives Bucky a smirk over his shoulder. “But since I’m feeling generous, you can still join me in the shower if you’ve learned your lesson.”

Bucky gapes at him, frozen in shock, but when Tony strips off his shirt and throws it his way, he’s all but running down the hall to follow.

#winteriron #buckytony #my writing #my fic #prompt fill #nsfk

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tomurasprincess · 5 years ago

Text

Deceptive (Shindou Yo x Reader)

Pairing: Shindou Yo x Reader Warnings: noncon, blackmail, stalking, manipulation, overstimulation, yandere Word Count: 2.5k Note: A yandere prompt getting away from me again? Perish the thought! At least I have a good reason for this one though, as it’s Shindou’s birthday.

~~~~

You really hate Shindou Yo. You had decided this shortly after meeting him, in fact. He is cocky, a flirt who seems to think every woman he meets should throw themselves at his feet in adoration.

Even worse was the utter fakeness about him that you instantly saw through. His nice guy persona was just that, a persona. Something he put on to hide the true man underneath. You resent the fact that you’re the only one who seems to notice it, the only one who is wary around him.

Shindou knows it, too. His eyes turned calculating when you first met him, instantly sensing that you didn’t buy the act he put on. After that, he made it his mission to win you over, one way or the other. He followed you around to force you into talking to him, gave you expensive gifts, asked you out on dates.

But the more you refused him, the harder he pursued you, like a fly that refused to be swatted. You started trying to avoid him completely, but it was hard to avoid someone who works at the same hero agency as you do.

You suspect he was the one responsible for some of your usual patrols getting switched around so that you would be forced to pair up with him. And with him being a higher ranked hero than you are, you had no choice but to go along with it without complaint.

That led to your current situation, hiding out with Shindou in some abandoned warehouse while you wait for a meeting between several troublesome villains.

“We’ve been waiting for so long,” you sigh for what feels like the hundredth time. “I don’t think these villains are going to show.”

“So impatient, sweetheart,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, it will be worth our time.”

“I don’t even know why they have us waiting for these guys.” You roll your eyes. “They’re small fry, not anyone higher level pro heroes like us should be chasing down.”

Shindou smiles as if you just told a good joke. “Oh, that’s because you’re exactly right.”

You glance at him sharply. “What the hell do you mean?”

“You heard me. Those villains are being taken care of by interns in another location.”

Alarm bells begin to ring in your ears. “Then why are we waiting here,” you ask cautiously.

“You’ve been avoiding me the past few weeks.” He grins, and it’s not the fake smile of the cheerful nice guy that the media knows him as. It’s the true smile of Shindou Yo, the darkness peering through that you knew was there. “I don’t like to be ignored.”

“What the hell - you made this up to get me alone?” Your voice rises in anger as you glare at him, but he simply gives you his signature infuriating smirk.

“That is fucked up!” You abruptly stand up and move to leave. “I’m going to report this, and then I’ll never have to deal with you again.” Before you can take two steps away from him, you feel him grab your ankle and activate his quirk.

You let out a choked gasp, your knees buckling and collapsing at the strength of the vibrations coursing through your leg. Before you can hit the ground, Shindou catches you and forces you down face first onto the cold, dirty concrete floor. “Oh, that’s sure as hell not going to happen, sweetheart.”

“Let me go, you piece of shit,” you hiss as you kick your legs out to try and gain leverage. He simply presses himself harder against your back, holding you in place with sheer brute force. He is so much bigger than you are and he has you in an awkward position to fight back. You can’t even hope to use your quirk in this situation, and he must know that.

“You think I don’t notice how much you want me?” He grinds his hips into your ass, and you can already feel the considerable bulge in his hero suit. “You’re just playing hard to get.”

“No I’m not, you fucking creep,” you try to slam your head back into him to loosen his grasp, but he anticipates this and activates his quirk again.

The vibrations course through your whole body this time, causing a scream to rip out of you as you feel weakness overtake your body. You drop limply in his grasp, gasping in exertion.

He gives you a malicious chuckle. “Be a good girl and I’ll make you feel good.” As he says this, his hands run up and down your sides, caressing and stroking your skin through your clothes.

He knots his fingers into your hair as he pulls your back into an arch so that he can plant hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. You whimper and try to squirm away, but you only succeed in grinding your ass harder against Shindou’s erection, causing a groan to slip from his mouth.

“Fuck, just keep doing that.” You feel him lift himself off of you just enough to rip your hero suit right down the middle like it was nothing but paper. Before you can even move away, he lifts your hips up to put you fully on your hands and knees, head still pressed against the floor.

He works your clothes all the way off of you before slipping down your panties to expose your heated core. “God, you have such a pretty pussy, sweetheart.” He reaches down to spread your lips open for him. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

You let out an embarrassed whine, your cheeks burning with shame as he looks at your bare pussy. You try to close your legs, only for him to force them back open with a chuckle. “So shy, baby~ You shouldn’t be so shy, you’re my perfect Angel.”

You hear a sudden buzzing behind you, and you try to lift your head up to see what he’s doing, only for him to grab your head and force it back down. “Or you will be once I get done with you,” he snickers darkly.

He strokes a single finger down the length of your folds, gathering your wetness on his finger and using it to stroke tight circles around your clit. “I knew you wanted this. You’re so fucking wet, and I haven’t even started.” He leans down to start kissing and licking down your back, forcing a shudder out of you.

“Please no, I don’t want this,” you whimper, as you try to get him to turn away from the path he’s decided to take. “Just stop and I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“You sound so fuckin’ cute when you beg,” he chuckled. “Makes me want to hear it more often.”

He activates his quirk with two fingers directly on your clit, and you let out a wanton moan at the feeling that only gets louder as the pulses get more intense. You gasp and try to buck away from the sudden intensity of it, but he refuses to let you move. You’re horrified to feel the pleasure building up inside of you, the realization that you’re going to cum so quickly from his fingers alone.

You struggle with yourself, trying to will yourself not to, but these thoughts fly from your head in favor of pure sensation as he slips two fingers inside of you suddenly. You gasp and tremble as your orgasm crests over you, walls clenching around his fingers.

“Oh, good fucking girl, cum all over my fingers,” he praises you as his fingers curl up against your walls and begin to vibrate against a spot inside of you that you’ve never even touched yourself. When he realizes that he found the right spot, he abuses it relentlessly, pressing his fingers hard against it as his other hand continues to stroke and vibrate against your clit.

You feel yourself rapidly coming undone again, the pressure inside of you building and building while you try and resist the sudden urge to pee. “Stop stop stop, it feels so weird,” you whine as you begin to squirm at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Yeah? Just let it happen, sweetheart,” he coos at you as he scrapes your walls at just the right angle. You squeal as you’re pushed over the edge, cunt clenching down as you feel fluids gushing out of you and onto Shindou’s arm and chest. Your head falls back as you pant and try to catch your breath.

“I - I’ve never,” you begin to say before you trail off mid sentence, unsure how to finish.

“So I was the first to make you squirt, huh?” He gives you a cocky smirk, obviously enjoying the fact that he forced you into it. “Fucking hell, that’s so hot.”

“Please, you’ve had your fun,” you whisper as a tear runs down your face. “Just let me go now.”

“I’ve had my fun?” His face looks incredulous. “I made you cum twice, once so hard that you squirted. You mean to tell me you don’t think you should take care of me, too?” His voice sounds so reasonable, so genuinely questioning that you almost agree before you come to your senses.

“No! I don’t want this,” you protest loudly, “I don’t want any of this!”

“Well too fucking bad,” he growls. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you were a spoiled fucking princess.”

You hear his clothes rustling as he unzips his pants, and you shiver in a mixture of anticipation and fear. You’re still trembling from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, feeling wrung out and tired already and he’s not even inside of you.

You feel his cock prod at your entrance, and you shoot a quick glance behind you, this time with him allowing you to. You glance between his legs, and your eyes widen and your cunt clenches at the sight behind you.

Shindou is a big man, and it makes sense that his cock would be equally large. But you were not anticipating just how large. He’s both thick and long, with a prominent vein running all the way down his length that has you licking your lips.

He languidly pumps his cock in his fist as his smirk widens to see you openly staring. He gathers the precum leaking from the tip of his cock and uses it to stroke up and down his length. “Like what you see?”

“N-n no,” you whisper hotly, although your voice trembles at the denial. Despite everything, your skin feels like it’s on fire despite the coldness of the warehouse you’re in and your pussy is throbbing with the need to be filled.

“You’re such a terrible liar,” he laughs as he begins to push inside of you. Your cunt is dripping from your previous orgasms, but it’s still not enough to stop the burn of him stretching you out. Your walls tighten around his cock as it tries to force his cock back out.

You pant and moan as you feel him sliding inside of you inch by inch, the veins on his cock pressing against your slick walls and causing you to go insane with wanting more of him. You let out a loud whine when he finally bottoms out inside of you, barely stopping yourself from grinding back into him.

You don’t think you have ever felt this full, this stretched out. Until he begins to move. Your breathless gasps and moans fill the warehouse, along with the wet sounds of his balls smacking into your clit with every thrust.

“You take my cock so well, sweetheart.” He grabs hold of your hips to pull you back towards him in time with his thrusts, and you just know you’re going to be bruised once he’s done. You barely stop your whimper, and you feel rather than hear the rumble of his laughter.

“Oh, you like it when I praise you, huh?” This time you don’t stop your whimper at his words as you clench down around his length. “Of course you do, you’re such a good girl for me.”

Everything feels so good that your head feels like it’s spinning. You feel waves of pleasure building up to what feels like another powerful orgasm.

“Please, oh fuck,” you hiss under your breath.

“What was that, sweetheart? Speak up, I can’t hear you.” Shindou’s voice comes out cocky, and you know if you could see him he’d be wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Please, I need - “

He reaches around to stroke your clit gently, but not enough to give you any real friction. The need to cum is almost painful now. “Yeah? What do you need?”

You finally throw your shame out the window. “I need to cum! Please let me cum!”

“Say my name, sweetheart, and I’ll let you.”

“Please, Shindou - “

He tsks. “Not that name.” He puts a bit more pressure on your throbbing clit, barely activating his quirk before instantly deactivating it again.

“Yo, please let me cum!” You let out a choked sob.

The sudden strong pulsing against your clit has you seeing stars, the waves of pleasure finally peaking as you come undone around his cock. Your fluttering walls has him groaning as he finds his own end, hot ropes of cum coating your insides. He stays inside of you until he fully empties himself inside of you before pulling out.

You suddenly hear the click of a shutter, and panic flows through you and turns your veins to ice. You sit up quickly to see him taking pictures of his cum sliding out of your cunt.

“What, I wanted something to remember this by,” he grins, that easy going grin that has everyone fooled. But then that grin turns darker, sharper. “And I also wanted something to keep you in line.”

Your heart drops into your stomach at his words as you realize the implications of what he’s saying.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. You’re going to continue to work with me as my official sidekick. You’re going to do what I say, when I say it, or these pictures are going to end up everywhere.”

You tremble when you think about the damage those pictures could do to your reputation as a hero. You gently nod at his words.

“I want to hear you promise me.”

With tears sliding down your face, you say the damning words. “I promise, Yo.”

“Good, glad you agree! I think this is going to make a wonderful partnership.” He gives you a cheerful smile. “After all, we work so well together, don’t you think?”

~~~~

Tagging: @lady-bakuhoe, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93, @katsukisprincess, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @mimikarasu, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @mrs-kirishima, @iwvs-on-ao3

#shindou x reader #shindou yo x reader #yo shindou #bnha smut #shindou smut #yandere bnha #yo shindou x reader #yo shindo x reader #yo shindo #shindou yo #yandere shindou #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #tw: yandere #shindou birthday #tw noncon #tw blackmail #tw manipulation

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dirt-cup-draco · 4 years ago

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Fred x Reader- Ease My Mind

can you do fred weasley & the love language of touch, if that is something that you do?

a/n: he is darling and coming right up <3 ALSO, Important note! I switched phones and forgot to save some of my notes so if you were on my taglist for my fics please send me an ask or dm! I will try to put down those I remember but I may forget a few

Your shoulders tensed immediately as you walked through the doors of the joke shop. The melodic ringing of the bell attached to the brightly colored wooden frame was drowned out by the sound of kids laughing and parents scolding. Fireworks erupted somewhere above as your eye caught a glimmer of ash and magic descending onto the glossy wooden floors.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable in the shop. You had long since become used to the jarring noise upon entering and it had stopped bothering you, your social anxieties overcome. Yet you were nearly certain it was because every shelf and sound and smell reminded you of the man you loved most. His heart and his soul emanated from every nook and cranny.

What made the hair on the back of your neck raise and your palms begin to sweat was the look of distress on George’s face as you entered, his attention immediately going to you. His lips were in a thin line, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes more pronounced by the bags that lay just underneath his eyelashes and colored the very tips of his cheeks a dull gray. Your heart was stuck in your chest as he plastered on a grin that was so forced it made your own jaw ache as he dodged past another pleased customer.

“Where is he?” You asked, stomach tied in knots and George shook his head, a guilty look on his face.

“We were stocking this morning and I was goofing off-”

You nearly let out a snort but stopped yourself as you noticed the strained expression on your dearly beloved’s brother’s face.

“-accidentally spooked him and he stumbled down two or three steps on the ladder and the box he was holding came crashing down around him. He’s just barely started going ‘round without his cane and he’s’ frustrated with himself I think and with how the merchandise came down around him...”

George trailed off and you gave him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand as a group of girls ran around your legs in search for the coveted love potions, one hollering about she would never be as silly as her friends and was only looking out for them. She reminded you of yourself when you had first met the twins.

“Georgie, it’s not your fault,” You promised as he struggled to meet your eyes. You knew from George’s words that it was likely Fred had been forced back into the past and was seeking comfort in the safety of his bedroom in an attempt to ground himself and stay in the present. “I’ll go see him,”

George’s slouched shoulders seemed a bit less heavy with your promise and he gave you a short nod, going to help the lonesome cashier who was overwhelmed with a line wrapping around the place. You gave your near brother in-law a thumbs up and then made your way to the far reaches of the store so you could begin your ascent into the twins’ apartment.

You knew there would be bad days and good days but for Fred’s sake you had hoped that the good would outweigh the bad. At first they had, there was the thrill of finally having no more fear of Voldemort even if his dark forces were still tucked into dark corners. Things had been looking up and everyone was just happy to be alive, yet as the days and weeks flew by it seemed that the horrors of war would be sticking around long after the Dark Lord’s defeat.

The apartment was colder than usual and Fred wasn’t to be found in the kitchen or the sitting area. There was no music playing to fill the silence nor was there a cup of tea in sight. If it wasn’t for the cleanliness of the place you would’ve wondered if it was inhabited.

You forced your foot falls to resonate against the flooring louder than usual to give your longtime boyfriend some warning as to your presence yet you kept your knock gentle as you tapped a melody against his door, hand frozen on the doorknob.

“Fred, love, it’s me,” You called out. “May I come in?”

The shuffling of socked feet paused momentarily and then the doorknob was twisting against your palm and the door was pulled away from you. Fred poked his head out from behind the door and you gave him a bright smile. Even under such circumstances you couldn’t help but be delighted at the sight of him- especially when you saw the stony expression on his face fall away as he locked eyes with you.

“Darling,” He greeted, voice croaky from misuse all afternoon. He looked more tired than George and you realized that the younger twin must have been up caring for Fred all night. You regretted going out with Hermione.

You shouldered your way into the bedroom and took Fred’s hands into yours after he closed the door securely behind you and locked it for peace of mind. You knew he didn’t fear someone coming for him as much as he feared the uncontrollability of an unlocked door. He wasn’t willing to let much into his space and you felt a swell of honor in your chest as you thought about the ease at which he let you in.

“Sit with me?” You asked, squeezing his hands as his eyes searched yours- his frown not yet gone but the grim glaze over his eyes had dropped away and he was trying to relax for you. Fred’s glance broke away and he stared at a spot on the floor, just behind you.

“I don’t want to be still,” He mentioned softly, like the admission made him weak somehow.

“How long have you been pacing?” You had to ask, hands falling away from his to settle on his hips and he shrugged.

“Since before we opened shop,”

“Have you eaten?”

“We can later,”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as Fred couldn’t meet your eyes. You could tell guilt was chewing away at him and you couldn’t stand to see him struggling so much. If you could take his pain from him you would without a second beat.

“Would you let me go grab you something? Or maybe we could take a walk to that pub you like,” You offered, trying to give him the freedom to choose and think on what he would be most comfortable with yet you hoped he would get something to eat as it might help him relax. Whenever he’d been upset at Hogwarts, locked away in his room, you’d snuck him hand pies and juice and he’d always brightened up considerably.

You pulled away from him then, making a move to get him some tea, biscuits, anything. You were stalled however by his arms wrapping around your waist fiercely and pulling you to his chest with a grip that almost felt like fear. Your hands laid flat against his back and you rubbed with soothing circles as you stayed in the same spot you had been since entering his room.

“Y/N,” He grumbled, pressing his nose against the side of your neck as he took a deep breath. You could feel the sudden pitch in his heartbeat against your own chest as he reminded himself you hadn’t left yet and you were still within his grasp.

“What do you need Freddie?” You coaxed, reaching to tangle your fingers in his hair that had been growing out for some time now. He didn’t trust you or George with cutting it but he hadn’t been too comfortable heading to a salon when all he could see outside the shops were rubble and the clear signs that life still wasn’t back to normal.

“I-” He started but then dropped off for another heavy moment. His voice had cracked and you could feel your top growing damp as he buried his face deeper into the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Anything,” You promised, pulling him impossibly closer to help shield him from the challenging feelings he had swirling around in his mind.

“M-maybe sitting would be nice, or laying down. Being close helps, just having you near is all I need,” He finally settled on and you took half a step back just to look into his watery eyes. Even when they were shining with tears his eyes were the most beautiful you’d ever seen. It wasn’t so much the color as it was the life that swam behind them. Even in his darkest times Fred Weasley was filled with beauty and life.

“Of course,”

You let Fred take the lead, his hand still clasped tightly with yours as he tugged you over to his bed. You noticed he was favoring his right leg, his cane discarded probably somewhere near the entrance to the apartment. Helping pull the sheets away from the bed you helped Fred settle onto his side. Once you joined him he let out a deep breath that he had been holding in. His arm found it’s place around your waist and he pulled you to his chest as he curled up tighter, smaller. He’d had struggles with claustrophobia yet he was entirely at ease with his head resting over your heart and his legs tangled with yours- barely a paper’s width between you.

You trailed your fingers down his side affectionately, hand rubbing gentle circles against his hip and thigh knowing he was hurting from the way he sighed softly, hot breath fanning against your collarbones. Poor Freddie had been pacing too long and pushing through the pain from his injury.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning,” You apologized softly. Maybe if you’d fallen asleep with him his nightmares wouldn’t have been so vicious and his short fall from the ladder that morning wouldn’t have caused such a severe reaction.

“Don’t be, you’re here now,” Fred put your guilt to rest and snuck his hands under your shirt to rest against the warm expanse of your back. He’d always liked the contact and you were glad that you could help ground him in any small way. Your fingers brushed through his hair and you let your nails lightly scrape against the nape of his neck, a shiver going down his spine as he curled up tighter against you.

You weren’t sure how long you two laid there in silence, hands shifting every so often to pull one another closer or to place an affectionate kiss against a forehead or nose. Your eyes had drifted shut and you weren’t sure if the both of you had drifted off for a moment or if the time was just passing comfortably. Fred’s breathing and heartrate had evened out and you were able to let out a sigh of relief. His hurts were your own and you felt such a deep peace when he was able to come back from the darkness.

“This feels safe,” He admitted into the shared space between you, voice gentle like never before. “Thank you for easing my mind, Y/N”

“Thank you for letting me in,”

Fred smiled against your neck, brushing a kiss against your pulse point. You ruffled his hair and let your eyes fall shut again. Despite Fred’s need to move earlier and the loud memories playing back behind his eyelids he let himself fall into the warm embrace of sleep, nestled against the love of his life.

#mildly brought on by the song by ben platt #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fluff #love language challenge #anon ask #request #it's currently 8:13am and I haven't slept since the day before so I have coffee coursing through my veins and I'm gonna get some writing #done today dammit

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hieromonkcharbel · 3 years ago

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Diverting a bit from my approach to the writings of the Philokalia, I wish to put forward a few thoughts about how we often think about illness in our lives and how the Holy Fathers offer us fresh insight into the mystery of evil, sin, illness and their place in our struggle for holiness.

Often, when we are young, we do not think much about physical illness and the spiritual life. Life passes quickly as we are fully engaged in our work, studies and ministry and many of us rarely struggle with ill health except for the occasional flu or cold. But when illness does strike, in one form or another, suddenly our busy and “productive” lives can be disrupted and we are forced, as it were, to reconsider a great deal of things; not merely the meaning of health, that we have perhaps taken for granted, but the nature of our relationship with God, the depth of our faith or lack thereof, the meaning of suffering and how to engage it and not to become discourage even when we have been completely humbled by the burden of our physical and emotional vulnerabilities. When such circumstances arise, we are often unprepared for the trial - never imagining or wanting to think about the possibility of such a cross - a cross the comes to most all of us at some point. When illness plunges us into unfamiliar territory, even to the point of death, what place does it have within our struggle toward holiness? How do we pray when prayer seems impossible and when it feels as though our heart has been turned to stone? Where do we find our hope and with what faith must we enter the mystery of illness and suffering in order to know the healing touch of Christ, the Physician of our souls and bodies?

I offer for your consideration today brief excerpts from “The Holy Fathers on Illness” compiled by Bishop Alexander Mileant; in particular those thoughts from the Fathers on “Illness and Work of Perfection”. Their words offer some perspective on sickness and redemptive suffering as a means of glorifying God. There is much to say certainly about the meaning and origins of illness well beyond the purview of a simple post, but the Fathers show us in word and deed that it can be and often is a privileged way of holiness. Through thankfulness, endurance, and patience one can realize the highest form of ascetic practice and follow a spiritual path to intimacy with God. At such moments, one may exhibit no extraordinary virtue other than to suffer illness and its poverty with patience and so have this as one’s path to salvation. Thus, the Fathers’ words are full of hope and challenge:

“The desert ascetic Father, St. Abba Dorotheus, exhorts his disciples to "take the trouble to find out where you are: whether you have left your own town but remain just outside the gates, by the garbage dump, or whether you have gone ahead little or much, or whether you are half way on your journey, or whether you have gone two miles, then come back two miles, or perhaps even five miles, or whether you have journeyed as far as the Holy City and entered into Jerusalem itself, or whether you have remained outside and are unable to enter" (On Vigilance and Sobriety).

Illness helps us to see "where we are" on life's road: "sickness is a lesson from God and serves to help us in our progress if we give thanks to Him" (Sts. Barsanuphius and John, Philokalia).

No one may use illness as an excuse for resting from the labor of spiritual living. "Perhaps some might think that illness and bodily weakness hinder the work of perfection since the works and accomplishments of one's hands cannot continue. But it is not a hindrance" (St. Ambrose, Jacob and the Happy Life).

In the life of Riassophore-monk John, latter-day disciple of St. Nilus of Sora, we see how bodily infirmity is not allowed to interrupt the struggle for salvation. Riassophore-monk John was a cripple; because of this he had been compelled to leave the Monastery of St. Cyril of New Lake. Feeling sorry for himself, he shortly afterwards was standing for an all-night vigil in the deep of winter. "Suddenly he saw an unknown Elder in schema come out of the altar to him and say: 'Well, apparently you do not wish to serve me. If so, return to St. Cyril.

"At these words, the Elder struck him with his right hand quite strongly on the shoulder. Noting that the Elder exactly resembled St. Nilus as he is depicted on the icon over his relics, John was filled with great joy, all his grief disappeared, and he firmly resolved to spend the rest of his life in the Saint's skete" (The Northern Thebaid).

Even if we are bedridden, we are to continue the struggle against the passions, producing fruits worthy of repentance. This work of perfection demands that we acquire patience and longsuffering. What better way to do this than when we lie on a bed of infirmity? St. Tikhon of Zadonsk says that in suffering we can find out whether our faith is living or just "theoretical." The test of true faith is patience in the midst of sufferings, for "patience is the Christian's coat of arms." "What is it to follow Christ?" he asks. It is "to endure all things, looking upon Christ Who suffered. Many wish to be glorified with Christ, but few seek to remain with the suffering Christ. Yet not merely by tribulation, but even in much tribulation does one enter the Kingdom of God."

To those who suppose that they can only progress in the spiritual life when all else is "well," St. John Cassian replies, "You should not think that you can find virtue when you are not irritated — for it is not in your power to prevent troubles from happening. Rather, you should look for patience as the result of your own humility and longsuffering, for patience does depend upon your own will" {Institutes). Towards the end of his life, St. Seraphim of Sarov suffered from open ulcers on his legs. "Yet," as his Life tells us, "in appearance he was always bright and cheerful, for in spirit he felt that heavenly peace and joy which are the riches of the glorious inheritance of the saints."

"You are stricken by this sickness," the Holy Fathers say, "so that you will not depart barren to God. If you can endure, and give thanks to God, this sickness will be accounted to you as a spiritual work" (Sts. Barsanouphius and John, Philokalia).

Bishop Theophan the Recluse explains: "Enduring unpleasant things cheerfully, you approach a little to the martyrs. But if you complain, you will not only lose your share with the martyrs, but will be responsible for complaining besides. Therefore, be cheerful!"

In order not to lose heart when we fall sick we are to think about and mentally "kiss the sufferings of our Savior just as though we were with Him while He suffers abuses, wounds, humiliations...shame, the pain of the nails, the piercing with the lance, the flow of water and blood. From this we will receive consolation in our sickness. Our Lord will not let these efforts go unrewarded " (St. Tikhon of Zadonsk).

The patience we can learn on a sickbed cannot be overemphasized. Elder Macarius of Optina wrote about this to one who was ill:

"I was much pleased to hear from your relation how bravely you are bearing the cruel scourge of your heavy sickness. Verily, as the man of the flesh perishes, so is the spiritual man renewed."

And to another he wrote: "Praised be the Lord that you accept your illness so meekly! The bearing of sickness with patience and gratitude is reckoned highly by Him Who often rewards sufferers with His imperishable gifts.

"Ponder these words: Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed."

St. Ambrose of Milan compared an infirm body to a broken musical instrument. He explained how the "musician" can still produce God-pleasing "music" without his instrument:

"If a man used to singing to the accompaniment of a harp finds the harp broken, and its strings undone...he puts it aside and instead of calling for its notes he delights himself with his own voice.

"In the same way, a sick man allows the harp of his body to lie unused. He finds delight within his heart and comfort in the knowledge that his conscience is clear. He sustains himself with God's words and the prophetic writings and, holding these sweet and pleasant in his soul, he embraces them with his mind. Nothing can happen to him because God's graceful presence breathes favor upon him....He is filled with spiritual tranquility" (Jacob and the Happy Life).

Quite often the most God-pleasing spiritual "music" of all is produced in anonymity, by unknown or nearly-unknown saints. But such holy "melodies" are all the more sweet because they are heard by God alone. One such modern sufferer who lived an angel-like life in spite of advanced and terrible sickness was the holy New Russian Martyr, Mother Maria of Gatchina. Her story is known to us only because it pleased God to providentially arrange for one of her visitors, Professor I. M. Andreyev, to record his memories of her.

Mother Maria suffered from encephalitis (inflammation of the brain) and Parkinson's disease. "Her whole body became as it were chained and immovable, her face anemic and like a mask; she could speak, but she began to talk with half-closed mouth, through her teeth, pronouncing slowly and in a monotone. She was a total invalid and was in constant need of help and careful looking after. Usually this disease proceeds with sharp psychological changes, as a result of which such patients often ended up in psychiatric hospitals. But Mother Maria, being a total physical invalid, not only did not degenerate psychically, but revealed completely extraordinary features of personality and character not characteristic of such patients: she became extremely meek, humble, submissive, undemanding, concentrated in herself; she became engrossed in constant prayer, bearing her difficult condition without the least murmuring.

"As if as a reward for this humility and patience, the Lord sent her a gift: consolation of the sorrowing. Completely strange and unknown people, finding themselves in sorrows, grief, depression, and despondency, began to visit her and converse with her. And everyone who came to her left consoled, feeling an illumination of their grief, a pacifying of sorrow, a calming of fears, a taking away of depression and despondency" (The Orthodox Word, vol. 13, no. 3).

"Thus God has acted. Like a provident Father and not like a kidnapper has He first involved us in grievous things, giving us over to tribulation as it were to schoolmasters and teachers, so that being chastened and sobered by these things we may, after showing forth all patience and learning, all right discipline, inherit the Kingdom of Heaven" (St. John Chrysostom, Homily 18, On the Statues).”

Excerpts taken from:

Missionary Leaflet # EA30

466 Foothill Blvd, Box 397, La Canada, Ca 91011

Editor: Bishop Alexander (Mileant)

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sushiburritonoms · 3 years ago

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I've been having terrible writer's block lately, not enjoying anything I've written, not getting anywhere with WIPs. Poor @darkisrising and @bronze-lorica have had to talk me off edges lately (thanks guys you're the best!). I think I finally have a chapter 3 for Sacred Texts but I'm sitting on it for a while to see if that's the direction I really want to go. I'm soooo sorry for the delay.

In the meantime I was looking through my notes for The Father the Son and the Exile and I found a bunch of scenes I wrote and abandoned as the fic moved in different directions. I figured I'd post some of them because they'll never see the light of day otherwise and because I have nothing else to offer right now.

Originally in Exile, Din and Luke were supposed to make it to Tython. I had them meeting up with Han AND Leia on the planet Ajan Kloss (its the planet Luke and Leia train on in TROS). Its interesting looking back at this, Din and Luke have a different dynamic since I wrote this a long time ago back in March when the story was going in a different direction (I also wrote an homage to one of Writer Owl's fics in the dialogue). I enjoy playful Luke, I don't really write him that often and that's a real shame. Anyways here's wonder wall, enjoy!

Ajan Kloss was a swampy humid hellhole of a planet that no rational, sentient being should visit, let alone enjoy. Of course that meant that Grogu and Luke were comfortable in the sticky humid environment. In fact there was a rare smile stretched across Luke's face and he sounded almost nostalgic as he talked around their campfire.

“There’s a certain type of moss that grows on the trees here that’s edible.”

Din refused to look up at Luke from where he was cleaning their meal. “I’m not drinking any tea you make out of it.”

“It’s more of a garnish?”

Din sighed. “Don’t touch my fish.” He forcefully stuck a stick lengthwise through the fish as an emphasis.

“Grogu should really have more vegetation in his diet. Master Yoda used to eat plants.”

Din snorted. “You’re welcome to try.” It wasn’t like the kid never ate vegetables but they were always fried and covered in spices. That probably wasn’t what Luke was getting at.

“Maybe later. He did eat two whole frogs.” Luke edged himself closer to the fire. “Maybe after this we could swing by Dagobah. You know, assuming we’re not about to trigger some sort of sneak attack or trap. There are tubers I could dig up for him that Master Yoda ate, plus I could pick up more gnarltree bark.”

Din blinked and raised his head up to properly look at Luke. He knew what Luke was doing. He was trying to distract himself with thoughts of the future. It was a tactic Din often used himself--strategize every possible outcome in the hopes the future won’t be as terrifying as it feels.

On the one hand, he was amused and touched by Luke’s continued fixation on Grogu’s eating habits, even if it was hypocritical of Luke given his own poor diet. It reminded Din of some of the older members of the Covert that used to watch Din when he was little. They always used to harass him to eat everything offered to him and gave him sharp nudges when he tried to skip directly to the occasional sweet treat left out for all the foundlings to share. It was very Mandalorian of Skywalker and it felt good. Familiar.

On the other hand, Din really, really didn’t want any more tree bark in the Wayfinder. So Din didn’t really know what to say.

“Hold this.” Din shoved a fish skewer into Luke’s hand. Yeah that worked.

Luke took the skewer with a hint of a smile. “Master Yoda used to eat certain mushrooms too, I think I can safely identify them. Or maybe I could put together an aquarium in the Wayfinder and we could take more frogs with us. I bet I can repurpose one of the smaller cloning cylinders I have in the back and add a filtration system...”

Din shuddered at the thought of living with a cloning vat filled with frogs and the likelihood of frogs, moss and tree bark for dinner several nights a week. Just no. “This is why our people are ancient enemies,” he shuddered. “You live like animals.”

There was silence. Too long of a silence. Din looked up.

Luke was staring at him with a shocked look on his face. “Our people are ancient enemies?” He whispered.

Ah kriff. Din winced. “So I’ve heard.”

“....Oh.” Luke looked crushed. “Nobody told--well. There’s a lot nobody told me,” he sighed. “About being a Jedi.”

Damn damn damn. Din wanted to throw his hands up in the sky.

“I guess that makes sense,” Luke mumbled. He was fiddling with the fish skewer in his hands. “All the other Mandalorians I’ve ever met have tried to capture or kill me. I thought it was just the Bounty…”

“I’m not like other Mandalorians.” Din interrupted, desperate to turn the conversation. It was technically true, probably just not in a way that helped their relationship. Er--their partnership? Their--whatever this was.

“I mean I like you…”

Din froze. What.

“You’re really good at fishing and Grogu loves you. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

Din’s heart restarted in his chest again. Was Luke...messing with him? “You wouldn’t leave a mark.”

Luke blinked up at him innocently and fluttered his damn eyelashes. “I could totally kill you in your sleep.”

The little shit! “I’ll poison your tea.”

“It’s pretty much already poison. I’m immune.”

Heh, true. “Your fish then.”

“I’ll just go grab a frog.”

“You’re staying here and eating my damn fish!”

Luke burst out into sudden loud laughter. It was like a sudden fierce rainstorm in the way it showered over the camp. It startled Grogu, who had been ignoring both of them in favor of playing with some shiny rocks nearby. He tilted his head and then matched Luke’s laughter with a baby chuckle of his own.

“Sorry! I think it's just my nerves talking but that just sounded wrong and so funny--”

Din just shook his head. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had set Luke off but he didn’t care. “Crazy Jedi.”

“Trigger happy Mandalorian.” Luke gave him a giant smile. “Hurry up and finish this.” He gave Din back the fish skewer and chuckled again. Despite his comment about his nerves, Luke’s shoulders were relaxed and his legs were spread out comfortably by the fire. Din could stare at his lopsided smile all evening, especially as the sun set and the fire highlighted the delight in his eyes. The sun shone through the lighter parts of Luke’s shaggy long hair. It was now untied from the neat bun it had started in and looked soft and golden in the light.

Stars above help him. Luke was beautiful. Din was tired of denying the thought. He wanted to touch Luke’s face with his bare hands, run his fingers through his hair and that was terrifying. He hadn’t wanted to take off his armor for anyone, besides Grogu, in ages. Maybe with Omera...but this was much different. The feelings he’d had for her were a momentary weakness compared to the colossally bad idea this was to develop an attraction for this damaged Jedi. Din had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring. Even if nothing happened, there was the uncertainty of the next day and the next to worry about. Luke was a marked man and every day there was a chance something could take him out. Take him away. The thought burned in him like a chemical fire inside a reactor. Caged deep inside of him, destructive it released, and burning with an intensity greater than Din could stand.

This was why he never got involved with people before he found Grogu. He didn’t know what to do with the intensity of his feelings and how to fit them into his unpredictable life.

“Din?” Luke’s smile fell slightly. “You ok?”

“..Yeah.” Din did what he always did. He pushed his feelings away and tried to focus on the present. What had they been talking about? Food. He sat and thought for a moment. Maybe...

“I have a contact on Tatooine, from a rural town few people have heard of. Mos Epsa.”

“Mos Eps--I thought that was wiped from the planet years ago.” Luke looked impressed.

“It’s still there.” Din handed Luke a cooked fish skewer and settled back with his own. “We could go there, for a while. We’d be safe. I’m assuming we can both eat Tatooine food.”

Luke picked at his fish. “I do miss blue milk.”

Good. “I’ll add it to the list.”

Luke chuckled. “You have a list?”

“Of safe planets we can stop at. We should have alternatives to the drop pods and not be reliant on the New Republic. My list is probably different from yours so we have more options.” Din stabbed his fish a little harder with his skewer to make his opinion of Luke’s employers known.

The smile on Luke’s face got impossibly wider. “That makes sense...Thank you.”

Din grunted. The smile on Luke’s face was too distracting. Instead he looked down at his food. Oh. Right. Damn.

Luke made the exact realization at the same time. “Sorry! I forgot, I can go back to the ship--”

“Shut up and sit down, Jetti.” Din shook his head. He only hesitated for a half second before he reached up to his helmet and unlatched it. He opened it wide enough to take a bite.

“Or you could do that. Of course.” Luke babbled. He turned his head so he wasn’t looking at Din. Which was sweet. But also meant he wasn’t looking at his food.

“Eat.” Din growled. “All of it.” How was it this hard to feed a grown adult? Grogu gave him less trouble. Gods help Skywalker, Din was about to channel some of the fiercest warriors he knew to get him to eat more.

Luke gave him a mock solute. “Yes sir.”

Din began to reach for his sidearm.

Luke responded with a rather unnecessarily dainty bite of fish.

Din began to unhook his blaster.

Luke nibbled at one edge of a fin.

The blaster powered up.

Luke kriffing licked his fish.

“That’s disgusting.” Din gave up. He couldn’t help it--he chuckled as he powered down his blaster.

“Yeah it is,” Luke stuck his tongue out. “Fish is gross.”

“I thought you said you’d eat anything.”

“I do. I don’t have to like it. I didn’t grow up eating fish, it’s both slimy and spikey at the same time.”

“You eat frogs.”

“You can eat a small frog in one bite! I’ve gotten fish bones stuck in my throat.”

“You’re not supposed to eat the bones.”

“Nobody told me that the first time. What part of ‘raised on a desert planet’ does no one understand?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Luke sat back. “I’m done now, mom. May I go now?”

Din sighed. “No.” He held out another fish skewer.

“You got to be kidding me.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“How hard is the har--YIKES! NO! LETGO! ARGHHH!!!!!”

‘Yup’, Din thought to himself as he held the struggling, still too skinny, Jedi in a headlock. He had it bad and he was going to regret this.

Tomorrow. He’ll regret it tomorrow.

“DJARIN LET ME GO NOW OR YOU’RE GOING IN THE SWAMP!”

Here’s hoping the desert boy could swim.

#Still bummed I never used any of this #Luke the frog eater #lives on a diet of moss leaves and swamp dew #Luke was actually less damaged in this version wtf sb #I made it gayer but also angstier #I miss the exile universe so much #may the writers block end and the words flow soon #have i posted this already?#I feel like I have argh idk #I still like it #The Father the Son and the Exile #sb fics

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clareguilty · 4 years ago

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To Guard You and to Guide You

My first reward fic for my follower giveaway! Dutch/Arthur/Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit | It’s smut.... Word Count: ~2000

Part One

It’s late into the night when you hear the thunder of hooves on the trail. You live too far out for anyone to be passing by. If someone is riding this way, they’re coming for you.

Any business that comes calling this late at night is likely to be trouble, so you grab your rifle before peering out the window. The moon is almost full, and you see two riders coming up the trail towards the house.

Wait. You recognize those horses. A white stallion and a dark coated mare. Two broad shouldered riders.

“Dutch! Arthur!” you call, flying off the porch to meet them. “What brings you out here?” Their gang had moved camp a little farther south, and you hadn’t seen them since. They promised they would come back around next time they were in the area.

Dutch laughs boisterously. “We’re putting as much distance between ourselves and the sheriff of Valentine as possible. Of course, we couldn’t resist paying you a visit.” He rears The Count to a stop, sliding out of the saddle and striding up to pull you into his arms. He’s in high spirits, and he lifts you and spins. Your own laughter carries through the trees.

Arthur is smiling as well as he leads the horses around to the back of the house. You make a move to follow him, but Dutch’s arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you towards the door. “I’ve got a bottle of brandy just for you,” he nuzzles into your neck.

He does indeed have a bottle of brandy. As well as a nice comb and a beautiful necklace that you doubt you’ll ever have reason to wear. You admire the gifts with flushed cheeks, debating if you should ask where Dutch got them.

“Robbed a fancy stagecoach a few weeks ago,” he tells you anyways. “The fine lady had these with her, and I thought they deserved to go to someone as lovely as you.”

Arthur is just coming in from the horses, and he snorts and rolls his eyes. You lean into him as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses you gently, his lips lingering at the corner of your mouth. “He’s always like this after a good score.”

Dutch feigns insult. “Is it so wrong of me to treat our lady? She deserves only the best.”

“Yeah, she does,” Arthur says. “Which is why I brought her saddle soap and gun oil, and a box of ammunition.”

It’s exactly the kind of gift you expect from Arthur. Subtle, practical.

“Y’all are too kind.” You shake your head. “I can’t accept all that.”

“Think of it as recompense for harboring two dangerous outlaws.” Dutch grins.

“Dangerous outlaws? Is that what you consider yourselves to be?” While you knew Dutch and Arthur were wanted men, and they had described to you the nature of the crimes they committed, it had been a long while since you saw them as dangerous. They were sweet and doting and compassionate.

Dutch’s eyes gleam in the low light. You realize you may have kicked the hornets nest. “Arthur, did you hear that?”

Arthur chuckles, and his voice is suddenly right at your ear, low and authoritative. “You don’t think we’re dangerous?”

“Well-” you stammer, “You just- I never- You’re so sweet and kind.”

They’re crowding you from both sides now. You know they’re enjoying this game far too much. Tripping over your feet, you stumble back into the wall. Dutch pins you in place and leans in so you can feel his breath on your skin. “Maybe we should remind you just what kind of men we are.”

The low growl of his voice sends a thrill down your spine. The arousal makes you weak at the knees, and your head feels light. You know Dutch and Arthur would never truly hurt you. They’re just riled up from their latest score. The thrill of the chase and a hard ride, and now they want to celebrate their success.

“Arthur,” Dutch orders, “undress her.”

He’s rough with you. More so than ever before. But he brushes a gentle kiss over your shoulder as he yanks your blouse off. You’re taken by surprise, but you let him manhandle you out of your clothes. He hoists you over your shoulder as though you’re a sack of feed. He playfully smacks your ass, and you yelp.

The room spins as you fall onto your bed, sprawled ungracefully as Arthur climbs over you. He unties his bandana from around his neck and quickly lashes your wrists together. You struggle weakly beneath him, unable to hide your grin. You’re enjoying this just as much as they are.

Dutch watches with a gleam in his eyes. You wonder what he has planned.

Arthur has his own ideas, and sinks between your legs, kissing his way up the inside of your thigh. You whine as he teases you, diverts his attention to your hips and stomach. All you want is for them to touch you, to take you.

“Please,” you whine.

“There’s those pretty sounds,” Dutch pets your hair. “Been missing you.”

You gasp as Arthur finally touches you where you need it most. He presses two fingers inside you, stroking your clit with his tongue. Dutch watches as you arch you back and buck your hips against him. Unable to resist, he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers just to watch you pant and moan.

“Arthur!” you gasp as he crooks his fingers and sucks. Living alone, you rely on yourself for pleasure most of the time. It’s always overwhelming when Arthur and Dutch take you to bed. They never leave you unsatisfied. Often you wind up sore and exhausted when they take their leave.

You belong to them, and they delight in fucking you and making you come until you’re a shaking mess between them.

“You’re close,” Dutch murmurs. “I want to see you come undone.”

Arthur doubles his efforts at Dutch’s words, just as eager to make you fall apart. You pull against the bandana on your wrists, eyes fluttering shut as you try to watch him. He trails his lips down the column of your throat. He and Arthur both, devoted entirely to you.

You come with a breathy cry of Arthur’s name. He holds your hips in place until you’re shaking and on the brink of tears. When he pulls away his lips are slick and shining. He wipes the back of his hand over his chin, looking far too proud of himself.

You’re panting and shaking. Dutch and Arthur communicate wordlessly -- something you’ve always thought incredible -- and your hands are unbound. You reach for Arthur, eager to return the favor, but Dutch pulls you into his lap.

“Be a good girl for Daddy,” he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s eager and messy. He runs his hands over your skin, pinching and squeezing just to get a reaction out of you. You tug at his clothes, fingers fumbling over the buttons of his vest. It’s much more heated than the last time you saw him: a lazy affair during the hottest month of the year. He kisses his way down to your chest as you struggle to get his pants open.

Finally, you’re able to pull his cock free. Just as you wrap your fingers around his length, he lifts you off his lap. Your whine and pout are ignored, and instead Dutch pins you onto your stomach. He grinds against your ass, breath hot against your skin. You glance up to see Arthur, undressed. He’s clearly feeling left out, but he watches Dutch with fond exasperation.

Dutch comes to his senses a moment later, no longer mindlessly rutting against you. This time, he pulls you so that you’re lying back against his chest. He holds you by the hips and presses his cock into you with a low, satisfied groan. You’re still dripping wet from Arthur eating you out, but you aren’t anticipating the sudden stretch. Dutch doesn’t even give you time to adjust before he’s thrusting up into you, pulling you down by your hips to meet his every motion. Your head falls back against his chest, and you cling to his arms as he fucks you.

And then Arthur is there, rubbing his thumb over your clit so that you tighten around Dutch’s cock, and he only fucks you harder.

“How much more can you take?” Arthur asks gently. He brushes your hair out of your unfocused eyes, thumb trailing over your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you gasp.

He grins. “Then I guess we’ll just find out.” He’s more insistent now, intentionally trying to drag another orgasm out of you.

You come quickly, squeezing around Dutch’s cock.

Dutch is close too, you can tell from the change in his breath. His voice is low and rough when he speaks. “I’m going to fill you up so good. You’re going to be good for Daddy and take it all. Let me breed you good.”

The words make you shudder, and you rock your hips down against his. “Daddy, please. I need it.”

“That’s a good girl,” he croons. He drives his cock into you as he comes, squeezing your hips so hard you know you’ll be covered in purple handprints tomorrow. You can feel his cock twitching, can feel the heat inside you.

He stills, relaxes beneath you. A few panting breaths and he pulls out, both of you shuddering. You don’t get a moment of reprieve as Arthur immediately pulls you to him and begins fucking you again. “Just a little bit more, darling.”

You cling to him, your head rolling slightly with every thrust. He’s more gentle than Dutch in the way he holds you, but he fucks you harder. It’s nearing too much. They’ve never been this rough with you before. You’re a mess, dazed and uncoordinated in his arms, Dutch’s seed spilling out of you around Arthur’s cock.

Arthur slips a hand between you. You’re oversensitive, but he knows just exactly how much pressure to put on your clit.

“No,” you whimper. “Too much.”

He slows, reach up to take your face in his hands. You struggle to meet his eyes. “Can you give me one more?” he asks.

Now that he’s stopped moving, you want him to go back to fucking you. You’ll do anything he asks. “Yes,” you nod. “Please, Arthur.”

He kisses you so sweetly, once on your lips and again on the tip of your nose. “That’s it, doll.”

You want him to move, but he gently lays you on your back before he starts thrusting again. “Come on,” he murmurs. “One more for me.” He’s always been able to take you apart so easily, and your vision goes white as you come one final time. He keeps fucking you, though much more carefully.

It’s bliss. Mildly uncomfortable bliss considering you’re sore and bruised and fucked beyond anything you thought possible.

Arthur spills inside you just as Dutch had. You feel used, claimed.

Its a few moments before you’re able to keep your eyes open, and you blink in the dim room to see Dutch with his trousers fastened back up, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“Da-” you catch yourself. “I need a drink of that.”

He chuckles and insists on tipping the bottle to your lips himself. You stumble up from the bed, pushing away Dutch’s offered hand. The inside of your thighs are a mess, and you grimace as you wet a cloth at the basin and do your best to wash up.

“Do you need anything?” Arthur asks from where he’s pulling on his own clothes.

“I need a good night’s sleep.” You were already tired from a hard days work. Now, it’s well past midnight and you’ve just been fucked within an inch of your life. You’re swaying where you stand.

He chuckles. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

You climb under the blankets, eyes already heavy before you’ve even laid down.

“One of you get in here with me,” you grumble. The bed isn’t big enough for all three of you, but you’ll let them fight over who gets to sleep at your side.

Thankfully, whatever argument they have is silent, and you’re nearly asleep when Dutch lays against you.

“You know,” he whispers, trailing his fingers over the marks on your hips. “We’re going to be moving even farther south soon.”

“You’re going away?” The thought fills you with dread. The gang only moves when it’s too dangerous fir them to stay in one place, and from what you had heard, they never used to run into this much trouble before.

“We don’t have a choice,” he presses his lips to your hair. “But we miss you enough as it is already.”

“What will we do?” you ask. You already worry so much about them. Not being able to see them wears on your heart, never knowing if they’re safe or even alive.

“I know it’s a difficult choice for you, but you’re always welcome to come with us -- if you truly want to. We would love to have you with us. You would be safe. You would want for nothing. I could have you whenever I want.” He pulls you closer to him.

You know it’s not the time to make such decisions. You’re barely able to keep awake long enough to answer. His words are like a dream. Spending every day with Dutch and Arthur, watching over them, knowing they’re safe at your side.

“I’d like that,” you murmur absently. You think Dutch says something more, but you’re already asleep.

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#reward fic #dutch van der linde/reader #Dutch Van Der Linde #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan/dutch van der linde/ reader #dutch van der linde x reader #rdr2 fanfic

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jumpingjaxx13 · 4 years ago

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First Lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

No one tagged me, but I saw it and thought it would be fun! I’ll tag @boostthatgold and @immaplatypus if you want to participate! No pressure obvs!

Also, as a disclaimer, I realized that many of my first lines are rather abrupt, simple sentences, so I put in the first few lines for some. I’ll be putting a “Keep Reading” a little bit of the way down!

Finally, if you decide you want to read one of these fics, be sure to read the tags!! Many of these contain angst and/or dark themes, but not all. Please heed the tags so you can make sure it’s right for you!

1. Purpose, Kurogiri & Tomura Shigaraki

“Do you trust me?” It was a heavy question to expect a young child to answer, but there was no way to avoid asking it.

2. Tuesday Morning Flowers, Ougai Mori/Yukichi Fukuzawa

As of late, Tuesdays had become Ougai Mori's favorite day of the week. There was nothing particularly special about it-- in fact, it was an arbitrary selection that didn't harbor much significance-- but he had given it meaning of his own volition.

3. Understanding Love, Ryuunosuke Akutagawa/Atsushi Nakajima

Ryuunoske Akutagawa understood hatred.

It was something he had been saturated with as far back as he could remember. Whether he was struggling on the streets or thriving in the Port Mafia, he was more than familiar with being the object of fear and hatred. Even more so, he was accustomed to dishing it out.

4. Unstoppable Force, Ranpo Edogawa/Edgar Allan Poe

They found him on the sidewalk.

Over the course of his life, Ranpo had seen more corpses than the average person would ever wish to. They rarely perturbed him; they were little more than another element to any given case he was working on. Gruesome scenes didn’t leave him fazed in the slightest. He’d seen where a knife had sliced through someone’s throat, bullets pierced their chest, or their body had been mutilated to the point of entrails seeing the light of day.

Never before had he seen a body look this peaceful .

5. In the Language of Flowers Ch 2, Teru Hanazawa/Shigeo Kageyama

Kageyama Shigeo liked Takane Tsubomi.

Teru knew that well enough. Hell, anyone who had spent a decent amount of time around Shigeo would know that. It wasn’t something he necessarily tried to hide.

6. In the Language of Flowers Ch 1, Yuusuke Sakurai/Megumu Koyama

Love; what a concept. It was easily the strongest force in the universe while simultaneously being the most volatile. Love could be a saving grace and everything someone needed; Love could be the most destructive weapon known to mankind when wielded as such.

7. Lovely, Hatchi Kita/Robby Yarge

Betrothal.

Hatchi had only been home for a short while before the topic was brought up again. It wasn’t new in the slightest-- he had always known that he would be paired off with some wealthy gentlewoman and that he was going to have to at least pretend to like it-- but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

8. Flawless, Katsuki Bakugou & Tsunagu Hakamata

“Ouch! Watch what you’re doing with that thing!”

“If you weren’t squirming around so much, you wouldn’t get poked as often.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

9. Where It Doesn’t Hurt, Tsunagu Hakamata/Keigo Takami

Heroism and death walked hand in hand. Any hero who insisted otherwise was either new, naive, or completely in denial. Hero society itself was born from the need to protect people against a new form of death and destruction that had razed the world upon the introduction of quirks, and it was impossible to separate the two.

10. Casual, Shouto Todoroki/Tenya Iida

Shouto was familiar with affection in theory . He knew what it was supposed to be like. When he was young, he experienced brief moments of loving kindness from his mother wherein she would kiss his forehead and run her fingers through his hair (the right side; he didn’t notice it at that age, but she always favored his right side).

11. Playing the Villain, Shuichi Iguchi & Tenko Shimura/Tomura Shigaraki

You can play with us, but you have to be the villain!

That was what the other kids said every time Shuichi approached them, costume cape tied around his neck and eager to join in with the other little ‘heroes.’ Even at only five years of age, he was more than familiar with that kind of discrimination-- that kind of unfairness -- but it never stopped him from going back to try again.

12. Running Out of Time, Hari Kurono/Kai Chisaki

Hari’s relationship with time was a unique one; that much, he could recognize without any issue.

13. Remembering Shirakumo, Kurogiri-centric, background Kurogiri/Atsuhiro Sako, background Shouta Aizawa/Hizashi Yamada

Being caught hadn’t been part of the plan.

14. Becoming Kurogiri, Kurogiri-centric, Kurogiri/Atsuhiro Sako, Kurogiri & Tomura Shigaraki

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones: a deep, throbbing ache within him making his limbs heavy and distress swell up and spread to every extremity. The epicenter of his pain was positioned right above his eye, every awful feeling radiating out from that focused point. His head spun, rushing through empty thoughts faster than he could process their meaninglessness. The pain meant something; the weight meant something; this terrible, hurried static in his head meant something, but he could not place his finger on it. He was equal parts incoherent and consumed by his blank, dark surroundings and, had he possessed the bodily control to do so, he may have succumbed to nausea.

Move. Get away. You can’t stay here. You’re not safe. They’re not safe. You need to protect them. It’s too late.

15. Keepsakes Ch 3, Yogar Lyste/Kassius Konstantine

Minister Maketh Tua had died.

The news was laid upon him without ceremony or compassion, so he hardly had the bearings to comprehend it before the topic switched over. He could hardly ask for the information to be repeated-- no, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on, seeing as he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on a report between an ISB agent and a superior officer. Nevertheless, even if he weren’t intruding in such an unprofessional manner, his voice was nowhere to be found. Blood rushed from his cheeks, forgetting his limbs and turning him into an ashen grey statue as daunting, echoing thoughts boomed in his head.

16. A Quiet Night, Kurogiri/Atsuhiro Sako

Kurogiri hadn’t known quiet in over a decade. Ever since taking young Tomura Shigaraki under his wing, peace had become a foreign concept to the warp villain. If his hair could show from behind his smoke, each grey hair would tell the story of another late night where sleep just wasn’t an option; another close call that had him stitching up open wounds; another task placed on Shigaraki’s shoulders that he was still far too inexperienced to execute properly of which he often took the brunt of the consequences.

17. Same, Daniel/David or Daniel & David

“ This is for your own good. You’ll understand later.”

18. The Dark Knights, Bruce Wayne/Jeremiah Valeska

Killing Jerome Valeska the second time around felt too easy. The man had clawed and ripped his way out of hell, gasping through waves of shed blood to feed his madness, his entire being a reflection of everything perverse and rotten in the human soul. To be felled by a proverbial “fall from grace” was insulting.

19. Different, Jerome Valeska & Jeremiah Valeska, Jerome Valeska & Paul Cicero

Jeremiah was nothing like Jerome.

Even before they could speak, the boys couldn’t have been more different. Jeremiah would take the cheap, plastic blocks and pile them; Jerome would wait for the perfect moment to strike and knock them down. He would laugh; Jeremiah would not.

20. How to Lie to Yourself, Janus “Deceit” Sanders

Start with something simple.

Look in the mirror and hold your own gaze. Don’t break eye contact-- that’s a sign of weakness, even to yourself.

So, it looks like I definitely do have a pattern when it comes to opening lines. Out of these, I have to say that my favorite is either Unstoppable Force’s or Flawless’s line(s).

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blitzturtles · 3 years ago

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Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 3/?

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind

Pairing(s): BruAbba, Platonic Bucci Gang

Summary: “I’d ask how you’re feelin’, but I’m guessin’ the answer’s ‘not so hot’?”

Bucciarati hums at him in lieu of an actual response.

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). This is Mista's part of this very Bucci-centric fic.

Mista is too busy watching a movie from his spot on the living room couch to notice his two new companions until one of them is practically deposited on top of him. He startles but reigns in his reaction when he sees that it’s Bucciarati. He looks like-- ‘hell’ would be putting it nicely. The poor bastard looks like someone put him through the wringer, either before or after running him over with a train.

“What the hell?” Mista asks, looking up at the room’s only other occupant. Abbacchio isn’t looking at him so much as frowning at the back of Bucciarati’s head.

“He had three seizures,” Abbacchio says finally. Bucciarati makes a noise in the back of his throat and flaps a hand uselessly in Abbacchio’s direction.

“Three?!”

“Yeah,” Abbacchio says shortly, “They did it on purpose. I need to--”

“Wait, what the fuck? I thought they were supposed to help!” That’s the whole reason Abbacchio took Bucciarati, right? Giorno had told Mista about it earlier after Abbacchio had apparently stopped by his office for long enough to explain why he was skipping out on work for the day.

Abbacchio pinches the bridge of his nose. Now that Mista’s looking at him, Abbacchio also looks wrecked, but in a different way. Exhaustion shows despite his makeup, and there’s black smudges around his eyes. It’s not significant, but enough that Mista has to wonder if Abbacchio attempted to clean it up after making a mess of it.

“They have to trigger them to-- I don’t know, evaluate them or whatever,” Abbacchio starts for the hallway. “I’ll be back in a minute. Just keep an eye on him.” He’s gone before Mista can respond. His voice has an odd waver at the end of his sentence that gives Mista a good idea of what Abbacchio is up to.

No problem, if the man needs a minute, Mista’s more than happy to keep Bucciarati company.

“I’d ask how you’re feelin’, but I’m guessin’ the answer’s ‘not so hot’?”

Bucciarati hums at him in lieu of an actual response.

“Yeah, thought so,” Mista shifts them so Bucciarati is tucked into his side. He wraps one arm around him, loosely, before letting the Pistols out to find perches of their own. They’re pestering him too much to keep them locked up, and the extra eyes can’t hurt.

They catch onto the situation quickly enough. Five snuggles up against Bucciarati’s neck, half obscured by black curtains of hair. The braid is still absent, which means there’s a lot more to hide in. Mista figures that that’s about where the rest of the Pistols end up, considering the fact that he can’t exactly see them.

As long as they aren’t fighting, Mista’s sure it’s fine.

He turns his attention back to the TV. He had only just started the movie about twenty minutes ago. Giorno had kicked him out of his office, claiming that he needed to focus on paperwork. Mista doesn’t think his presence was the problem, but he gets the nerves. They’re all a little on edge. It’s why he’s got a movie on in the first place. Something to distract himself, but now he has Bucciarati pressed against him. He remembers what Abbacchio said about stimulation the other day and decides to turn down the volume to near silence. He’s only interested in the gun-slinging parts anyway. Mostly so he can judge the accuracy (or lack thereof).

The two remain in silence for well over fifteen minutes before Mista is startled by the sensation of someone petting his head. Only it’s not his head. He glances down to see that Five has come out of his spot to cling onto Bucciarati’s shirt-- Mista takes a moment to appreciate the fact that Abbacchio got Bucciarati to wear something other than a suit in public, but that’s not important. He’s more concerned with the Pistols and what they might be getting up to.

But Bucciarati doesn’t seem bothered as he gently pets Five’s head with two calloused fingers. Five starts chattering away at him almost immediately. Talking about anything and everything. Mista’s cheeks heat up slightly. They don’t have to be so embarrassing, he thinks to himself, but Bucciarati doesn’t seem to mind. Nor does he seem to mind when One and Seven clamor in for their turns.

Mista startles again when he turns his head and ends up face to face with a blue helmet and a head full of spikes. They’re inches apart, and it’s a little unnerving to be stared at by something that he can’t actually meet the eyes of,

“Hey, SF.”

Sticky Fingers reaches past him and extends a hand out to the remaining Pistols. Two and Three climb on, each grasping a finger, while Sticky Fingers settles themselves on the floor, in front of the couch.

It’s a little odd to watch a stand so much larger than his own sit on the ground with their legs crossed, as if that’s totally normal. Mista has a feeling it has something to do with Bucciarati’s current condition. Five is always quick to pop out when he thinks Mista is in danger. Sticky Fingers must feel their user’s distress, and, if petting the Pistols is helping Bucciarati, they might as well join in.

Absently, Mista notes that Six must still be in Bucciarati’s hair.

“I thought I told you to keep an eye on him,” Abbacchio grouches upon his return. His footsteps give him away, thankfully. Mista doesn’t think he can take another shot at his ego. He’s already been startled twice. A third time would be absurd. (A fourth would be catastrophic. He’d definitely have to go check on Giogio with that kind of luck.)

“I am,” Mista says with a half grin, “Got fourteen of ‘em.”

Abbacchio grumbles something under his breath as he approaches. His fingers brush over Sticky Finger’s head carefully, “You know he doesn’t like it when you fuss.”

Sticky Fingers gives him a look that honestly amazes Mista. He doesn’t know how a stand with half their face obscured can be so expressive, much less expressive the level of unimpressed that SF is.

“Yeah, yeah,” Abbacchio pats Sticky Fingers and moves past them to take up the nearby chaise lounge.

Mista takes a moment to look him over. More so than earlier, and he winces. Abbacchio’s eyes are definitely red, despite his newly redone makeup. He must be trying to do his best to hide from Bucciarati. Not that Abbacchio walks around all that often with his face bare, but to take the time to redo his makeup and at least attempt to look like he hasn’t been crying from the stress… Mista feels for him, but he doesn’t know what he can offer.

He’s tempted to give Abbacchio his spot on the couch, so that the two can curl up together, but Bucciarati seems content where he is. Mista’s afraid to move him around too much, plus, Abbacchio isn’t exactly shy about asking (demanding) for something when he wants it.

The trio lapses back into silence. Bucciarati’s seemingly dozed off with two Pistols cupped under his hand. Two and Three join the pile when Sticky Fingers’ form dissipates, apparently recalled to their owner upon his falling asleep.

“They really take a lot out of him, huh?” The seizures, not the Pistols. Mista doesn’t think he has to clarify.

It’s weird to see Bucciarati like this. Two days in a row no less. There have been times-- in the past-- where Bucciarati had worn himself into complete exhaustion, but it’s a rare sort of thing where Bucciarati shows his weakness. Mista’s privileged enough to have seen it only because he’s been Bucciarati’s right hand a countless number of times. Plus, despite how he acts, Bucciarati isn’t that much older than him. He can’t soldier through everything. He has limits, like the rest of them. And trauma. So much trauma. Mista thinks anyone other than Bucci would have suffocated under it all by now.

“They gave him something to help relax his muscles. It’s supposed to help with the seizures, too,” Abbacchio explains, weary eyes flitting across Bucciarati’s form. He looks much more relaxed now, thankfully. Abbacchio doesn’t exactly like seeing his partner this way, but he prefers it to the painful tension that had been there earlier.

Mista frowns, “This all sounds crazy dangerous.”

“It is,” Abbacchio admits, eyes darting away.

“Oh,” Mista looks down at the man curled against him. Right.

“They wanted to admit him.”

“And he said ‘no’.”

“Nailed it,” Abbacchio sighs. “Look, it’s not exactly my place to tell you this, but… his father had seizures, too. One of the bullets,” he motions vaguely. Uselessly. He hates all of this, and he feels like he’s out of his depth, “Nicked his brain. Fugo and I think this is more uh-- he called it an ‘anoxic event’, but anyways. We don’t think it’s a hit that did it, but from when Giorno brought him back.”

“Oh yeah, Giogio said Bucci didn’t wake up when he healed him at the church. He had to do CPR.”

“Yeah, exactly, and it took him a minute. The brain doesn’t like that anymore than a bullet, I guess,” Abbacchio runs his fingers through his hair, only now realizing he never put his headpiece on. He can’t bring himself to care about it now.

Mista nods. That makes sense. He’s had his own head injuries in the past, and they usually throw him for a spin. He couldn’t imagine that being dead did the brain any favors. No blood flow, means no oxygen, and that usually means cellular death. That’s how Giorno explained it, anyways, and it makes sense to Mista

He runs his fingers up along Bucciarati’s arm. A gentle, comforting touch that he hopes isn’t too much. The man needs a break. Maybe they can plan a getaway for him.

“You said they gave him meds. They gonna always do this?” It’s honestly scary to see Bucciarati like this. Quiet and compliant. Mista doesn’t think there would be much protest no matter which way he might turn the man. He won’t. He doesn’t want to hurt him or set off something worse, but it’s disturbing all the same. This isn’t the man they’re used to, and he knows Bucciarati would hate it if he were more aware.

“Depends,” Abbacchio shrugs. He tries to sound nonchalant, but it’s obvious he’s failing, “Everyone responds to different shit differently, but this was more like what they’d give him if he went to the ED.”

It’s a lot to take in. Mista’s starting to get why Abbacchio looks the way he does. He feels completely overwhelmed, and he’s not actually dating the guy. He can’t imagine how Bucciarati is coping with all of this. Stubbornly, but it’s got to be a lot. More than anyone should have to deal with.

“I’d offer to get you something to drink, but I’m kind of pinned down by your partner here. But you look like you could use it. I still have seven sets of eyes… if you want to.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Abbacchio says after a moment. He wouldn’t consider it if Bucciarati were awake, but all he’s doing now is stressing over something that none of them can do anything about. He’s a coward for it, nonetheless. Bucciarati isn’t getting a break from any of this, except for when he’s unconscious. And Abbacchio has spent years trying to quell his tendency to reach for the bottle when life pushes him too hard, yet here he is.

“You’re overthinking it, dude.”

“Shut up,” Abbacchio grumbles as he gets up.

______

One glass easily turns into two, then three. Somehow he loses the bottle before it turns into four. He can’t figure out where to, and that keeps him busy and distracted for a while.

Whatever it takes to get Abbacchio out of his own head, Mista thinks. He teases him a bit, but he’s just relieved that Abbacchio doesn’t look like he’s going to have a breakdown if someone says the wrong thing about the color of his nails.

He doesn’t point out that the bottle is next to him and Bucciarati now. It’s not his own doing, of course. Bucciarati is firmly pressed against him, seemingly more drool than coherency. The Pistols can’t lift it either, at least not in any way that they could have gotten past Abbacchio unnoticed. The only thing that could do that would be the golden shine of a familiar zipper.

The other thing he fails to mention is the way Bucciarati had whispered, ‘shhh’, against him as SF made off with the bottle. It’s a little funny, and Mista’s happy to keep the secret for now. He figures Abbacchio’s good. Prone to drinking more than he needs to, he’s almost as likely to send himself careening back off the mental health cliff if given the opportunity (and enough wine). Right now, he’s perfectly tipsy and distracted.

Abbacchio eventually gives up his search for the bottle-- he never suspects his partner, nor his aptly named stand.

Bucciarati quietly restarts the movie and turns the sound up a bit. He doesn’t feel great, but his thoughts aren’t completely static now, which isn’t to say much about the coherency. There’s a full body nausea that he can’t shake, either, but the medication makes him feel somewhat detached from his body. Enough so that he doesn’t think he’ll be physically sick.

The television catches Abbacchio’s eye after a few minutes, and the man is scoffing almost immediately at some horribly inaccurate detail or another. Bucciarati says nothing, but he smiles in amusement.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Mista when he thinks Abbacchio is too engrossed to notice.

“No problem, Bucci.”

Mista grazes his fingernails over Bucciarati’s arm, a gentle press that feels nice against sore muscles. Bucciarati hums in response, once more grateful for his right hand. He’s not sure what he would do without his team.

#bruabba #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #jjba #jjba part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo #blitzwrites #blitz #fic: islt

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talpup · 4 years ago

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Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

IMPORTANT NOTE: Also, there’s a very small part in this chapter that turned out a bit more spicy than planned. It’s not explicit and definitely not enough to change the fics tags, clothes stay on and nothing happens under them. But since it’s a bit more steamy than I had planned I decided to mark where the spice starts and ends for anyone wanting to skip it.

Chapter 97

Teris stepped into the great room surprised to see Yami there. “I thought you were going to tend to the wolves.”

“Is that why you chose now to leave?” Yami asked, closing a book and getting to his feet.

“And just where do you think I’m going?” Teris tossed back.

“So you are leaving.” Yami said, both aggravated that she had attempted to sneaking off and proud at how well he knew her. “I’ll go with you.”

“You will?” Teris questioned.

“What? I helped save them.” Yami said.

“I didn’t claim otherwise.”

“Then?”

“It’s just--” Teris released a breath with a slight shake of her head. “Never mind. You’re more then welcomed to come.”

“Good we can talk about what you did down there on the way.” Yami said.

“What did I do?” Teris asked.

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

Teris sighed. “I knew what you would say and made a choice.”

“You’re damned right I would have stopped you. Alowishus said it was trying to decide if you were you, what with him having given you some of his mana.” Yami’s fist clenched at the memory of it.

It wasn’t so much that Alowishus had pressed his lips to Teris’. Though Yami certainly hadn’t likedthat. It was the fact that the man had forced his mana upon her. According to Julius, Alowishus forcing his mana into Teris’system had born sizable risk to Teris’ life if her system hadn’t accepted it but was too weak to expel or assimilate it. The fact that Teris had gone along with Alowishus’ plans for them to open the vault doors without fully explaining the risks involved,made Yami cross with her. Sure he understood why she’d done it. But even so, Yami never would have allowed her to take such a chance with her life. The fact that Nozel and Fuegoleon would have agreed with him, even knowing what it would mean for the them, made Yami all the more adherent to his stance.

Yami stepped in front of her, grasping her arms. “Teris, look at me.”

Teris stared back at Yami, impatient and annoyed by the continuation of the topic. Sorry as she was that she had in essence deceived Yami, she wasn’t sorry about what she did. Mana only knows what Alowishus would have done to them if she refused. Nozel and Fuegoleon certainly would have been put to death.

Seeing her petulant expression, Yami snapped. “I need you to listen. This is important.”

“Fine.” Teris snipped back.

Yami ground his teeth, the two staring at each other. Finally he told. “Don’t you ever take a chance like that with your life again. You hear me? I need you to promise me, Teris.”

“I can’t promise you that. I’m a Magic Knight, same as you. Could you promise me such a thing?”

Yami was silent.

“Well?” Teris pressed.

“That’s different.” Yami rumbled.

“Why? Cause you’re a man?”

Yami scoffed. “No.”

“Then why?”

“Cause I’m not half as important as you.”

Teris frowned. “Yes you are.”

Yami gave a mirthless smirk. “I’m a poor, foul mouthed, ill tempered, irreverent foreigner.”

Teris cupped his cheek, other hand resting on his chest. “Yami. You are so much more than that. You are… You’re everything to me.”

Yami clasped her neck, palm lifting her chin. He pressed his forehead to hers, her dark eyes filling his vision. “That’s why you can’t ever chance your life like that again, Ikigai. You’re my everything. The reason I get up and do what I do, and go on. I can’t lose you. I refuse to lose--” He stopped and swallowed, remembering how he had lost her for a few seconds that had felt more like an eternity the morning of the Summer Solstice.

Finger tracing his stubbled jaw, Teris looked sadly at him. “Yami, I love you. But even in a world without crazies interested in us,I can’t promise you that.” Her hand lowered, joining the other one on his chest. Pulling her forehead from his, she went on. “But I promise I’ll try never to take such chances. Will that work for you?”

“Hardly.” Yami huffed. His thumb tenderly caressed her cheek. “But I’ll take it.”

Teris gripped his wrist, pulling his hand down from her face. “Will you promise me the same?”

“Are we exchanging vows here? Can I make you mine, Princess?” Yami grabbed her waist, pulling her against his solid frame.

Teris knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to get out of making the same promise she’d made. Annoyed, she tried to come up with a response but was too flustered by his words and desirous gaze.

Yami smirked crookedly. “I got all sorts of promises I’ll be making you the day you fully give yourself to me. Fair warning, most aren’t be for public ears.”

Teris’ own ears warmed, blush deepening. Swallowing her nerves, she met his gaze and tried to match his toying, lustfulsmile with one of her own. “I hope you plan on giving more than words if such a day ever comes to pass.”

Yami pressed closer his hands sliding down to her hips and around to her ass. Pulling her into him, his large hands squeezed and lifted her to her toes. “Just you wait, Princess. I got all sorts of things planned.”

Teris shivered at the low rumble of his voice. Though the lady she had been taught to be told her to shrink away and scold him, she instead listened to her inner wanting, reveling in the trusted freedom she had with Yami.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Teris pulled him down and kissed him.

Yami’s hands panned up her butt to wrap around her waist. Leaning over her, he returned her kiss with hungry excitement.

Teris sighed into his mouth, hands tugging at his hair.

It wasn’t long before Yami had to pull away. Breaking the kiss, he turned his hip to her. It was his own fault. His thoughts and words, coupled with the feel of her had excited him enough to make things stir.

“Done already?” Teris asked, looking disappointed. She gave a playful pout. “You’re not giving me much hope for these so called plans of yours.”

Yami gave a throaty growl. Taking her words as a challenge, he told himself would surpass his limits of self control and deny his wanting till he left her dizzy and breathless. Leering over her, he backed her up, large hands on her hips.

Teris lowered her hands, reaching back to feel for the wall that she knew was there.

“Why do you suddenly look nervous?” Yami teased with a predatory smile.

“I—I’m not--”

Yami swooped down and kissed her,cutting off her words. His bodypressed into hers as hedeepenedthe kiss, tongue dancing with hers.

Teris’ lips became delightfully sore from the pressure. Her face raw from his sandpaper like stubble. Still, she kissed him back. Heady relief that she, Yami, Nozel, and Fuegoleon had made it out alive two days ago mixed with her love and desire for Yami.

**** extra spicy bit starts ****

She pressed back against Yami as he pressed her against the wall. Just when she thought she would faint from lack of air, Yami pulled away only to dive to the curve of her neck. He kissed and nipped as he slowly made his way up to the tender point just below her ear. His tongue leaked out to trace its way up to her earlobe which he flicked and nibbled.

“Yami...” Teris’ hands ran up his arms, trimmed finger nails pricking his skin ever so lightly.

Yami gave a low hum in reply. He nuzzled deeper into her neck when she tried to turn and return the favor. His hand lifted, clasping her just beneath the jaw. Gently, he turned and tilted her head, better exposing her neck.

Taking his hand, Teris kissed it. Her teeth plucked at the calloused skin of his fingers. Yami laced his fingers with hers, knowing that if she took one of his fingers between her lips he would be finished. Just the thought of it made things below his belt twitch. At that he gave another throaty hum which turned into a soft, low growl of frustrated wanting when Teris arched her back her breasts pressing into him.

He took her other hand and pinned both her arms to her side. Teris strained against his hold wanting to touch him.

Yami lifted from her neck wearing a grin. “Let’s see how long you can keep your hands off me.”

He slowly releasing his hold. Teris reached for him, but Yami gripped her wrists pressing them back against the wall.

“You’re not even trying.”

“Where’s my incentive?” Teris questioned, hips swaying. There was that familiar pulsing warmth in her core that Yami often caused, her legs squeezed together trying and satiate the need.

Yami slowly looked her over. Seeing the slight dance of her hips, his lips curled upward. The year and a half till her twentieth birthday seemed painfully far away. But he was set on waiting until they were wed. Even if he thought he had a chance of convincing her otherwise, which he didn’t, they were faced with so much as it was.

Seeing her like that. Realizing that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It should’ve been enough to make him step back and let them both calm. But he didn’t.

Smirking, Yami told. “You keep your hands to yourself till I’m done with you, and you can have anything you want.”

“Elaborate what you mean by anything.”

Yami’s eyes pulled over her form. “Anything.”

“That certain you’ll win this little game of yours?” Teris grinned, warming to the idea.

Yami didn’t reply. In all honesty, her tone only heightened his wanting and made things all the harder on him. But he didn’t caring about winning in this case. He simply didn’t want to stop yet and thought this tactic might help his cause.

Teris’ arms relaxed in his hands. “Fine. Have at me.”

Yami groaned. Her words. The huskiness of her voice. The look in her eye. She wasn’t playing fair.

Teris gave a surprised squeak and bliss filled laugh when Yami pounced.

Yami’s lips latched onto her collarbone. Arm snaking around her waist, his other hand gripped the back of her thigh lifting it his side. His hip pressed against her core.

Teris’ laughter ceased with a hitched in take of breath. Her head fell back against the wall further exposing her neck to him. Yami gladly took the invitation, lower lip pulling up her bared throat. Her hands moved to touch him; but she wasn’t about to lose this game so easily. Pressing her arms against the wall, her fingers curled into fists.

Yami tugged at her raised, held thigh. A soft, short moan escaped her. Lashes fluttering against her cheeks, Teris pressed her kiss swollen lips between her teeth trying to stifle any further noise.

Yami began to gently pull at her thigh and hip in time with every forward thrustof his hip.

Teris’ hands lifted, grasping her wrists above head. Breath uneven, she trembled with desire.

“Yami...” Teris exhaled in a needy moan.

Nipping along the line of her jaw, Yami made his way to her lips. He kissed her just as she released another moan. His chest reverberated in a responding groan. He released her thigh, his hand lifting to cup the back of her neck. Deepening the kiss, his other hand trailed up from her hip and curved around her ribs. His thumb came to rest just beneath her breast. He felt the tension within her change slightly. But when his hand didn’t move any further she relaxed and melted back into him, giving herself over to the heady feelings and sensations he caused.

His hip ceased thrusting and began to grind against her. Teris rewarded him with a long throaty moan, her body both tensing and easing at the same time. Yami’s hand pivoted, fingers sweeping up from her side to cup her breast. He followed her as she tried to break the kiss. His other hand, still cupping her neck, holding her in place.

Teris’ hands had dropped to Yami’s chest. But all thought of pushing at him to stop, fell away when Yami’s thumb swiped across the perk sensitive bud covered by her top and bra. Her body thrummed at the pleasurable jolt. She tired to suck in a breath, but with Yami’s mouth still attached to hers, was unable to.

Teris’ fingers clawed at Yami’s bicep. She wanted more. Needed more. And Yami gave her exactly that. His thumb traced around the pebbled peak as his hip moved in tandem against her core. Though she clearly enjoyed it. It wasn’t the response he had been hoping for. Experimentally, he ran the pad of his thumb back and forth over her excited flesh. Teris’ chest heaved, giving another mewling moan.

Changing his dance, Yami’s hip and thumb swiped in opposite directions as they pressed into her. He felt Teris’ body shudder, her muscle clenching and releasing only to tighten and release again and again. Not wanting to drown out the perfect sounds she was making, his lips moved onto her neck.

Teris whined, breath coming in starts and stops. “Yami.”

There was a growing tightness in her abdomen. The wetness in her underwear so that, if she weren’t lost in the throws of the moment, she would’ve worried it had seeped through and showed on her pants.

Teris pulled at Yami’s shoulder, other hand running up the back of his neck. All that existed was Yami, and the feeling his movements caused within her.

Her head rolled forward to rest on his shoulder. “Yami...”

The coil in her center tightened further. Yami’s strong body pressed harder against her as if trying to become one. What was left of Teris’ thinking mind wondered if this was what was meant when they said man and wife would become one flesh. The thought brought on a completely different kind of jolt. They had said they were going to wait. Yami had said he wanted to wait just as much as she did. They had to stop.

“Yami.” Teris said, voice more sober but still heady.

Her eyes fluttered open, mind caught between the unthinking tide of pleasure and wanting to tell him to stop. Only she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to continue until the coil within her snapped.

“Oh, Yami.” Teris mewled, melting back into him.

**** extra spicy bit end****

A burst of light from over Yami’ shoulder pulled at her attention. Teris blinked, seeing a darkened silhouette. Her muscles tensed for a completely different reason. Her hand dropped from Yami’s neck to push at his chest, other hand patting at his shoulder. They were no longer alone.

“Yami.” Teris whispered.

Still, Yami continued.

Eyes adjusting to the brightest of the incoming light, Teris recognized the figure. “Nozel!”

Nothing could have brought Yami out of the moment quicker. His head pulled back, movements instantly ceasing. “Nozel?”

Yami saw Teris’ wide eyes trained over his shoulder. A short, angry growl rumbled from his chest. Now that his focus wasn’t drawn to better things, he could sense the other mans raging Ki. For mana sake, why couldn’t he and Teris get a moments peace? What was the damned Ball of Pride doing here anyway? Wasn’t he suppose to be recovering at Healers Hall or something?

Yami let Teris push him back a step. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he balled them into fists to better hide the tent in his pants.

His eyes trailed over Teris wondering again how much she knew about sex or a mans body. Even if her mother had lived, Yami didn’t know what the ranking class taught their young unwed daughters. It wasn’t as if he could ask Julius about it. He considered just asking Teris. But even with them both wanting a relationship of free and open communication, some topics would have to wait until they were wed.

Nozel stood as still as a statue. Boiling inside, he wanted to lash out and end Yami Sukehiro. He wanted to demand to know what the hell Teris, his Intended, thought she was doing. But he couldn’t find the words. He was so shocked he couldn’t even move enough to tear his eyes away from the scandalous disarray of Teris’ hair.

Jax entered the great room from the back hallway. He lifted Teris’ report, squinting. Mana he swore her scrawl was worse than Yami’s. It was almost as messy as Julius’. He shook his head. Julius better get use to writing in a neater hand. The Magic Knights would find themselves in a bad way with a Wizard King whose penmanship no one could decipher.

“Yami. Can you read— Nozel?” Jax stopped.

The Black Bulls Captain blinked in surprise. They had said Fuegoleon’s injuries were worse; but still, even after two days of constant healing spells he would've figured the Silver Eagles Vice Captain would still be at Healer’s Hall or at least convalescing at home.

Nozel didn’t even turn to acknowledge the Black Bulls Captain.

Jax followed Nozel’s gaze. First he saw Yami and wondered what the man had said or done to antagonize the royal this time. Then he caught sight of Teris, who he had thought had already left to visit the Crimson Lion and Silver Eagle Vice Captain's. Taking in Teris’ somewhat disheveled state, Jax instantly pieced together what Nozel had walked in on.

Sighing, Jax muttered to himself. He felt annoyed on Yami and Teris’ behalf. Given all of Julius’ rules, meant to keep Yami safe from further attempts by Nathyn Silva, this was the only place the young couple could truly be a couple. And now Nozel had walked in making them, well at least Teris, feel uncomfortable at even that. Granted it wasn’t Nozel’s fault; but it didn’t change how aggravating the situation was.

“Yami. I need your help with this.” Jax called, lifting Teris’ report.

Yami turned to the Captain. It would probably be best for all of them if he left Teris to handle this anyway. He gave Jax a nod. Still facing Teris, back to Nozel, he lowered his head and uttered. “Go ahead and visit the Lion Cub without me. See you later, yeah?”

Teris nodded, mutely. Yami ran his hand down her arm as he took another step back and followed Jax down the hall.

Nozel watched Yami’s fingers trail across Teris’ stomach as the man walked away. Saw Teris’ slight tremble at the contact. He told himself it was because she found Yami’s touch revolting., but knew better.

As badly as he would rather turn away and leave, Nozel stepped fully inside. His hand slapped the front door closed, flinty blue eyes never leaving Teris’.

Teris jumped slightly at the slamming door. She shouldn’t feel guilty; but she did. Frowning at the feeling, her kiss swollen lips pressed together. She wondered if her mouth and neck looked as hot and red they felt, tender from the pressure of Yami’s kisses and scrapped by his stubble.

The awkward discomfort grew turning seconds into minutes.

A small wicked part in Teris heartlessly thought that maybe Nozel would finally believe that she wouldn't obey Fyntch and marry him. She hated herself for the thought. Nozel was her friend. She didn’t want to hurt him. If only he didn’t care about her that way.

“I’m glad to see you’re up and released. We,” she glanced over her shoulder down the hall where Yami had long since disappeared with Jax, “were just going to visit you and Leon.”

Nozel stared at her without word.

Teris cleared her throat. “Are you alright?”

“I wouldn’t have been released if I wasn’t.” Nozel clipped, coolly.

“And Leon?” Teris asked.

“Likely released tomorrow.” Nozel answered, shortly. He began to turn back to the door.

Teris took another step toward him, hand reaching out.

Nozel eyes lowered to her hovering hand. Unlike usual, there was little inclination to bridge the gap and connect with her. He had known, had imagined the things she and Yami did. Having seen the marks Yami once left on her neck, it was all too easy to picture the allowances Teris let the foreigner have. Even so, Nozel had scolded himself. Told himself that his imaginings were so much worse than what actually went on. He had been wrong. So very wrong.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I was so worried.” Teris said. The unwelcome memory of him and Fuegoleon hanging from the tree, blood dripping from them, filled her mind. Nozel’s stifled screams followed by his cry of pain echoed in her ears. She shook the image and remembered sound away, unable to bear it.

“Fine.” Nozel’s voice caught. He coughed lighted and stepped away, turning. “I should go.”

Teris stepped after him. “Nozel. But—you just got here. Don’t you want to--” Want to what, she wondered feeling foolish. Stay here and draw out this clear discomfort between them? She wasn’t going to apologize for what Nozel had walked in on. Sure she and Yami had once again gone too far; but that had nothing to do with Nozel. Guilty as she felt for whatever hurt it may have caused him, she wasn’t ashamed. She wished Nozel didn’t like her. Why did he have to like her?

Nozel stopped but didn’t turn back to face her. He couldn’t bare to look at her anymore. Couldn’t bare the sight of her kiss swollen lips. Couldn't stand the sight of her reddened mouth and neck which had been scratched raw by Yami’s few days growth; because the ill bred peasant foreigner refused to regularly shave like a civilized person.

“I was just released from the healers.” Nozel said, not mentioning that this was the first place he had come. He had needed to see Teris. Needed to know she was alright. Well now he knew, she was more than alright. He swallowed the bitter bile that rose in his throat. “Several Crimson Lions were visiting Fuegoleon when I left. If you’re truly interested seeing him, I’d wait a couple hours for him to rest and recoup some energy.”

Teris fidgeted, plucking at her fingers. “Of course I truly want to see him. I wanted to see the both of you. To see for myself that you were truly okay.”

Nozel’s eyes closed. He hated how her words both soothed and stung. Why did he have to love her? How had he even fallen for her? They were so different. It wasn’t as if she had led him on or given him hope. Was he really that in need of affection that what little she had given him as a friend had sparked an interest that grew into this love that was now his doom? If so, how did he get over it? How did he get over her?

“Nozel. I’m so sorry about what happened. You and Leon being taken by the Agents of Chaos because of--”

“Stop.” Nozel silenced. He couldn’t say what upset him more; the fact that he first thought her apology was for the allowances she afforded Yami, or that she was blaming herself for what those lunatics had done. He turned on his heel, blue eyes piercing her dark ones as he avoid looking anywhere else on her. “What the Agents of Chaos did wasn’t your fault.”

Teris’ mouth clamped shut. She wanted to argue; but her guilt would only make him feel worse, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Nozel’s head lowered in shame. He was the reason Fuegoleon was still at Healer’s Hall recovering. They had tortured the Vermillion until Nozel had broke and answered their questions. His shame built at having broken and answered their questions. But Fuegoleon would have died if he hadn’t. But he had told them things about Teris… It was a spiraling cycle that would bury him and seeing Teris made it that much worse. Why had he come? Why couldn't he have just trusted the reports that said she was alright? Why did he love her so much? Why couldn’t she love him?

As if reading some of his thoughts, Teris told. “It makes no difference what you told them, so long as you and Leon are safe and alive.” Unbidden images from two nights ago flicked through her mind once again. Overcome with relief, she rushed the rest of the way to him and hugged him. “I’m just so thankful that you’re alright. I was so worried.”

Nozel stood there trying to resist the urge to hug her back. He lasted all of a second before his arms lifted and returned her embrace. “You’re not the only one who was concerned. Promise me you’ll never bargain your life and safety like that again.” Though his tone was stern he silently pleaded, even if you never promise me another thing again, promise me that.

Teris exhaled, annoyed and amused. “You sound like Yami.”

Nozel bristled. He pulled away from her, voice rising in temper and volume. “I beg your pardon!”

“No Magic Knight could make such a promise.” Teris said.

Nozel wanted to argue that she wasn’t just a Magic Knight. That she was his Intended. His beloved. His friend. But he held his tongue. “I need to check in with Captain Kess and work on my report. I have a full debriefing tomorrow morning and would like my report ready to hand over by then, if not sent in later today.”

“Please don’t over do it. You were only just released from the healers.” Teris said.

Nozel gave a curt nod but didn’t make any promises.

97.2

Without invitation Yami plopped down in one of the chairs in front of Jax’s desk. Jax closed the office door and made his way around the desk easing into his seat.

“Did you really need me, or were you just trying to get me out of there to spare the Royal Bird?” Yami asked.

“It’s unlike you to sound so petty and jealous.” Jax commented.

Yami scoffed. “What do I have to be jealous about?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not jealous. Just pent up and aggravated.”

“I noticed.” Jax’s eyes darted down to the bulge in Yami’s pants, quickly lifting back to meet the mans gaze.

Yami growled and crossed his arms. “I just want a moment of undisturbed peace. Is that too much to ask?”

“Until you can better control yourself, I don’t think you and Teris should be spending a sizable length of time alone. That is unless you changed your mind about wanting to wait for certain things.” The Captain’s brows rose in silent query.

“No. I mean, yeah. I was in control of myself.”

Jax sat back sighing. This would be so much easier if Teris wasn’t Julius’ sister. Sure he looked out for every member of his squad no matter their rank or age; but Julius being his closest living friend added a whole other level of responsibility.

“Nozel’s scheduled to be debriefed tomorrow morning. I want you there with me.” Jax told.

Yami sat forward, remembering Alowishus had said he had tortured the Silver Eagle and Crimson Lion into answering his questions. Given the state Fuegoleon and Nozel had been in, Yami figured neither had been all that forthcoming. But Alowishus had said they eventually broke. “What kind of questions were they asked?”

“I don’t know. But considering who was doing the asking, is there any doubt it was about you and Teris?”

Yami’s teeth pressed together. He was tempted to march back out to the great room and demanded answers from Nozel now.

“Ellara will be there. So I need you to do whatever it is you do to relax and calm that temper yours.”

“I’m fine.” Yami rumbled.

“No. You’re not. You’re clearly angry, and rightly so. But on top of that you’ve been more easily annoyed than usual.”

“You’re annoying me.” Yami stared across the desk telling himself that he couldn’t hit the Captain. That Jax had a point, and if he was thinking clearly he wouldn’t even want to hit him.

“That’s exactly what I mean. You have a short enough fuse as it is. But for the passed month or so that fuse has been near nonexistent.” Jax said.

I’ve been struggling with this heightened temper for well more than a month, Yami thought, anger bubbling near the surface. It’s just that he had begun to lose his battle with controlling the shortened temper this passed month.

“Either you get a handle on whatever’s been bugging you by tomorrow morning or I’m not taking you.” Jax went on.

“You’re not taking Teris!” Yami stormed, feeling an overwhelming swell of protective possessiveness that wasn’t like his usual self.

The only reason Jax didn’t say he was the Captain and could do whatever he wanted was because he could see Yami’s inner struggle to control himself. “Of course not. The last thing Teris or Nozel need is for her to be there while he relays what he likely feels is a betrayal.”

“Any answer he gave them was a betrayal.” Yami said.

Jax almost spoke in Nozel’s defense; but realized that in the state Yami was in, it wouldn’t make a difference. Shaking his head, he told. “Just get this extra aggression out of your system and be ready to go before breakfast.”

“Are you ever gonna tell me?” Yami asked.

Jax’s eyebrows furrowed. “Tell you what?”

Yami shrugged. “Don’t know. But there’s something you’ve been hiding for a couple weeks now.”

Jax thought of the journal sitting in his desk drawer that he had found thanks to Iban’s very belated confession about his family’s past. The journal Marx had used his magic to copy; and Julius had asked him not to tell Yami and Teris about just yet. Even Greywright had agreed with the Azure Deers Captain; though the Knights Commander hadn’t ordered him to keep quiet. After the Agent of Chaos, Flic, had turned himself in, Jax had decided he was going to tell his Vice Captain's about the journal. But that was before Fuegoleon and Nozel, and Yami and Teris had been taken. Even with it over and the four Vice Captain's safely returned, Jax had changed his mind and decided to wait for at least a few days.

“That Ki of yours tell you that?” Jax asked.

Yami shrugged a shoulder. “Ki, knowing how things work, and a tiny bit of guessing.”

Jax huffed. Thanks to Yami’s sense of Ki, he was able to read him almost as well as Bronn had. “I’ll tell you--”

“Jax.” Commander Greywright’s voice sounded from the communication orb sitting on the bureau behind him.

“I’m in a meeting with one of my Vice Captain's.” Jax said, so the Knights Commander knew he wasn’t alone should anything be confidential.

“Good. Bring whoever it is too.” Greywright responded.

“Bring where--” Jax’s question died on his lips as Cob stepped through a portal and into his office.

“Hidy ho.” Cob waved.

Yami and Jax shared a look.

Pushing out of his chair, Jax exhaled. “You heard the Commander. Let’s go.”

97.3

Disappointed that Fuegoleon had still been asleep but glad to see he had been resting peacefully, Teris turned the corner and nearly bumped into Mereoleona.

“Leaving Leon’s?” The Crimson Lion Captain asked.

Teris nodded. “He was resting but it was good to see him just the same.”

“Then maybe I should wait before going in. I’d likely tell him to wake up and get to work, and we both know he needs the rest.” Mereoleona took in her cousin’s downcast face. “Hey. You’re not being stupid and thinking this is all your fault are you? I’ll knock some sense into you if you are.”

Even though she was, Teris shook her head. “I just wish Leon and I hadn’t argued at Nebra’s party.”

Mereoleona’s eyes narrowed. “I thought I told you to enjoy things while you could.”

“Yeah, well that’s easier said then done.” Teris snapped.

The Captain arched an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Teris apologized. Looking down at her feet, she mumbled. “But it is.”

Mereoleona sighed. “I could use a drink. You look like you need one too. Come on.”

“What kind of drink?”

Mereoleona looked at Teris out of the corner of her eye. “I know you’re not that stupid or innocent.”

“There is something I would like to ask you about.” Teris said, more to herself.

Hearing, Mereoleona smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re in trouble, again.”

Teris bristled. “What do you mean, again?”

“I don’t like to repeat myself, but I’ll say it again, you’re not that stupid.” Mereoleona threw her arm around Teris’ shoulder and led her down the hall. “You can ask all you like at the pub. I’ll even let you pay first round.”

97.3.2

Seated in a corner table at the Boiling Brew, Teris looked about in interest. She might not have been a perfect royal lady; but she was upstanding enough to stay away from pubs in Black Magic Alley. Taking the place in she didn’t see the difference. Was it just the pubs location that carried a stigma? Because it looked like any other bar she had been in.

Mereoleona clearly came here quite often as the waitress asked her cousin if she wanted the usual. Even though it was a bit early in the day and there was no occasion for it, Teris ordered a stout thinking the drink would help settle her nerves.

Teris tried to pay for the drinks after they arrived. Mereoleona laughed and waved her off.

“I was joking about you paying first round.” Mereoleona turned to the waitress. “Put it on my tab, Lisbet.” Looking back at Teris, she teased. “Unless you’re wanting to open up a monthly tab of your own.”

Teris’ eyes widened. “No, no.” She gave the waitress a polite smile. “Not at this time. Thank you.”

“You can be so cruel, Leona.” Lisbet chuckled, shaking her head at the Magic Knights Captain. She patted Teris’ forearm. “No worries, lass. We’ll be happy to serve you if you ever come again.”

Back straight, Teris watched the waitress turn and go.

“Ease up. It’s just us. There’s no older brothers, stuffed up royals, or Silva’s here to judge you.” Mereoleona told, sitting back in her seat.

The tension in Teris’ shoulders eased.

“Take a drink and tell me what’s going on.” Mereoleona ordered.

Teris took a small sip. Looking at her cousin over the rim of the mug, she took another, longer draw of alcohol.

Mereoleona chuckled when Teris took a third quaff. Picking up her own mug, the Vermillion took a swig. “Better?”

“A bit.” Teris took one more sip before placing her half empty mug on the table.

Mereoleona sobered. If half a pint of beer wasn’t enough to fully relax the her then what Teris wanted to talk about must really be troubling. “What’s going on?”

“I—I wanted to ask— I want to ask about...” Teris stopped and fidgeted.

“Spit it out.” Mereoleona commanded, impatient nature getting the best of her.

“It’s only—with my mother gone I never learned such things.” Teris said. Sighing, she muttered. “That’s if mother would have told me about them at all.”

Mereoleona frowned. Teris wasn’t looking for sympathy. Even if she were, she had come to the wrong person and they both knew it. “What things?”

Teris lowered her gaze trying to summon her nerve.

“Teris. What things?” Mereoleona asked, impatience growing.

Taking in a breath, Teris lifted her eyes and questioned with more volume than intended.. “What happens when a man and woman are married? What makes them one flesh?”

Caught off guard by the question for a moment, Mereoleona grinned. “Ask the whole pub why don’t you.”

Teris blushed beet red seeing that her unintentionally raised voice had garnered a number of looks.

“I’d be happy to show you, lass!” A patron called to her.

Mereoleona looked over her shoulder ready to tear the man apart. Seeing he was an old man who wore a humored expression that bore no hint lewd intent, she chuckled along with him.

“Leave the ladies alone, Merv.” Lisbet told the man.

Mereoleona looked back at Teris seeing her color. “You sure you should be asking such things if you can barely make yourself voice them, and redden so once you do?”

“I— It—it’s only—just— It’s not like we’re doing anything.” Teris finally managed to get out. “We both want to wait. It’s just--”

Teris might feel like a fool; but she wasn’t completely innocent. She had touched herself. Doing so while thinking about Yami until the coil in her belly snapped and left her floating on a wave of mindless ecstasy. But there was a difference between her creating those sensations and Yami doing so. Wasn’t there? She had to make sure that what she and Yami had been doing wasn’t what was meant for marriage. Yes, it was still more than what they should be doing. But she had to know that she hadn’t been about to give herself and become one with Yami if they hadn’t been interrupted.

Mereoleona sighed when Teris didn’t go on. Thinking about a long ago Captain's meeting, she said. “Well, I already told everyone you and I had this talk so I guess it’s only right we have it in truth.”

Teris stared wide eyed, the color draining from her face. “What do you mean ‘told everyone’? Who did you tell?”

Mereoleona waved her off. “Never mind that. Lisbet!” She yelled, signaling to the waitress for another round.

The waitress gave a nod.

Looking back at Teris, Mereoleona asked. “How much do you know? Our should I just assume you know nothing?” Before Teris could answer the Crimson Lion downed her drink and went on. “Well I guess you know the basics. I saw the marks on your neck the morning after the Lava Springs party last year.”

Mereoleona sighed thinking it fitting that she hadn’t hosted one this year. Since Bronn had been the one who gave her the idea in the first place, it wouldn’t have felt right having it without him. Or maybe it would've been a way to honor the bastard...

“Stop your blushing.” Mereoleona snapped at Teris.

“Leave the girl alone.” Lisbet scolded, setting the drinks on the table. Smiling at Teris kindly, she asked. “Are you aware of the male form, lass?”

Maybe it was a mistake to ask Mereoleona instead of Venice. Teris had thought her cousin would be up front and straight to the point without all the teasing Venice would likely do. But now…

“I—I just don’t want to—you know. Have sex.” Teris mumbled.

“Ever?” Lisbet blinked.

“She and her beau want to wait till they’re wed.” Mereoleona told her friend. Looking at Teris, she thought that it didn’t matter whether Yami and Teris wanted to wait or not, they had to and sure as hell better.

Lisabet huffed and rolled her eyes. “Sure he does.”

“He does.” Teris said.

“Actually, I think he does.” Mereoleona told Lisbet. “At least as much as any young, excitable man is able.”

“Well isn’t that sweet.” Lisbet cooed.

“So you know next to nothing of the way of things and are afraid of unintentionally having sex.” Mereoleona stated, wanting to be sure she understood.

Lisbet sputtered, both at how preposterous such a worry sounded and Mereoleona’s bluntness. Mereoleona gave the waitress a look.

“It might sound silly and completely stupid to you; but yes.” Teris said, a bite to her voice.

Lisbet sobered, sorry she had laughed. “It’s alright, lass. Innocence is nothing to be ashamed of. We all gotta learn sometime.”

“What brought this on?” Mereoleona asked.

“Ah...” Teris drew out unsure how to respond. If she and Yami had truly come as close as she worried they had she wasn’t sure what Mereoleona would say or do.

Mereoleona felt herself becoming truly concerned. “Have you done anything below the waist?”

Teris thought of Yami’s hip pressed against her and how the coil within her would’ve snapped from his rutting if they hadn’t been interrupted.

“Beneath your clothes. Skin on skin. Things going in places.” Mereoleona clarified, growing worry when Teris didn’t answer, making her bluntness turn crass.

Teris’ eyes widened. “Certainly not!”

“Don’t be crude, Leona.” Lisabet chastised.

Teris wiggled in her seat, distressed and uncomfortable. Things going in places? What was that about? Sure she had once taken Yami’s finger into her mouth...

Mereoleona exhaled, relief making her smiled. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Lisbet swallowed a smile. “I’ll leave you ladies to it. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“A piece of lead and scrape of paper.” Mereoleona told.

“What?” Lisabet scoffed. “You gonna drawn her a diagram?”

Mereoleona shrugged a shoulder. “Should be the easiest way. Unless you wanna give her the talk.”

Lisabet shook her head. “Even if the lass didn’t want to wait. You’ll probably scare her off sex by the time you’re through. Just… Try to draw things to scale. Wouldn’t want her being too afraid. Or worse, disappointed when the time comes.”

97.4

It was just happenstance that Jax and Yami came across Julius in the large courtyard that connected the headquarters of the four divisions.

Walking up to the fellow Captain, Jax stormed. “Where the hell have you been? Where’s your communication crystal?”

Julius patted his pockets.

Standing beside him, Jon told his Captain. “You left it in your office saying we’d only be out a moment, Sir.”

“That’s right.” Julius nodded.

“Though it’s been far longer than a moment.” Jon muttered.

“How was I to know I’d get caught up?” Julius asked.

“Cause you always do.” Marx said, though in this case it was partially his fault.

“You look upset. What’s wrong?” Julius asked Jax.

“The Agents of Chaos traitor, Flic.” Jax said.

Julius tensed. “What about him?”

“He’s ill.” Jax said.

“How ill?” Marx asked.

“Deathly.” Yami rumbled.

“The Healers can’t do anything for him. They can’t even say what’s wrong with him.” Jax said.

“Ellara?” Julius questioned, softly.

“Hasn’t been anywhere near him, according to Greywright.” Jax said.

“But if she used her magic to tamper with the guards memories.” Julius pressed.

Marx shook his head. “The day Mister Flic arrived I recommended to Commander Greywright that he only assign guards he knew to have a memory block. Though the number was few, he readily agreed.”

“Could the Agents of Chaos have another follower in place at Headquarters?” Jon wondered.

“Let’s not go there.” Julius told his Vice Captain. Looking back at Jax and Yami, he said. “If Alowishus’ magic truly is death magic, then that combined with the fact that he obviously uses Black Magic would be enough for him to kill Flic from afar if he had some piece of the man on hand.”

“That would explain why the healers can’t figure out what’s wrong or how to help him.” Jax said, finding it as good an explanation as any. He certainly liked it better than the option Jon had put forward.

Yami scowled thinking about the pieces of him and Teris the Agents of Chaos had taken during the first time they were attacked. Voicing the concern, he asked. “What about the bits they took from Teris and me our first year as Magic Knights?”

Jax’s eyes widened. He stared at Julius in silent query.

Julius made a face, considering a moment. “Most, if not all of what they took would’ve been used to make the personalized mana blocked cell they held you in during the Summer Solstice.”

“You said most.” Yami grumbled.

“It’s difficult to say without knowing exactly how much of each piece they took from each of you.” Julius said, not liking it any better than Yami did.

“It’s doubtful they would even bother with such attempts.” Marx said.

“Why? Because they still need Yami and Teris for their plans.” Jax said, finding small comfort in that.

“Also because of the way the pieces were taken and their age.” Marx said. When everyone looked at him expectantly, he explained. “Such spells are not only determinate on the skill of the Mage; but the freshness, as it were, of such items.” He cleared his throat in distaste. “Then there’s the fact that you and Teris didn’t give the pieces of yourself willingly.”

“Damn right we didn’t.” Yami growled.

“Though not impossible, it’s always easier when the item for the spell was freely given. Just like it is with my memory absolute spell. I can force my way in. But it’s far easier and requires less time and mana if the person willingly accepts. Those factors, coupled with what Captain Jax said, and the likely limited ingredients that Julius mentioned make it highly unlikely that such a thing will ever happen to you or Teris. Especially when they have proven on several occasions that they can reach you by far simpler means.”

Though true, Yami and Jax glared at the Investigations Mage.

Trying to draw the two Black Bulls heated attention away from Marx, Julius said. “Suffice it to say, there’s no cause to worry they’ll do such a thing to Teris and Yami.”

Jax turned away from the group. “I need a drink.”

“Same.” Yami turned, following his Captain.

“Yami, wait.” Julius called, walking after him.

Jon trailed behind. Marx turned back and made his way to Magic Investigations. He would see the men tomorrow morning during Nozel Silva’s debriefing, and then later tomorrow night for a planned meeting at the Black Bulls base. Given all that had happened, that secret meeting couldn’t come soon enough.

Julius fell into step beside Yami. “Has Teris talked to Nozel or Fuegoleon? Has she said anything to you about what they said? What questions the Agents of Chaos might've asked?”

“No.” Yami told his mentor, wondering if Teris was still in the great room visiting with Nozel.

“I’m bringing him to Nozel’s debriefing.” Jax said.

“Is--” Julius lengthened his steps to walk beside Jax. He looked over his shoulder at Yami and lowered his voice. “Is that wise?”

Jax looked at Julius out of the corner of his eye. “When has wise ever been an apt description of me?”

“But…” Julius cast another backwards glance at Yami.

“If they haven’t killed each other yet, especially after this afternoon, it’s safe to say they’ll be fine in the same room debriefing room tomorrow.” Jax said, still surprised Nozel hadn’t attacked Yami then and there in the great room. So long as Yami followed his command to get rid of his pent up aggression, Jax figured everything would be fine at tomorrows debriefing.

Julius’ brow furrowed. “Why? What happened this afternoon?”

“What were you doing at Investigations?” Jax asked, dodging the query.

“You’re not taking Teris to Nozel’s debriefing are you?” Julius asked.

“Mana, no.” Jax said.

“Then why are you taking Yami? What are you thinking?” Julius questioned, suspiciously.

“Nothing. You should know me well enough by now. I rarely think.” Jax said.

Julius’ eyes narrowed. “That’s why I’m asking. Cause I do know you well enough. You may pretend not to have schemes and ideas but are full of them.”

“Those bastards killed my Vice Captain nearly six months ago. If they think they can continue messing with my two new ones, they got another thing coming..” Jax said.

It wasn’t an answer; but he clearly wasn’t going to get one, so Julius let it be. The four walked the rest of the way to the Boiling Brew without word.

Upon entering, Yami’s eyes skimmed the pub. Seeing Teris, he blinked in surprise. There was a man standing over her, his hand on the back of her chair, other on the table, boxing her in. Leaving Julius, Jax, and Jon; Yami made his way to the table.

Stopping behind the man, Yami told him. “Walk away.”

“Yami!” Teris looked up at him in surprise and relief.

“Find another woman. I saw this one first.” The man called over his shoulder. He smiled drunkenly at Teris. “Pretty, innocent little thing. What do you say I take you out back and I give you the answers to all those questions of yours with a hands on lesson, eh?”

Yami reached for the mans shoulder to spin him around, fist already primed, when a fiery lion paw gripped the top of his head and pulled him back a pace.

“We’re you really gonna start a fight? The man is clearly drunk.” Mereoleona glared.

“I wasn’t gonna start anything. I was gonna end it.” Yami said, glancing spitefully up at the magical paw that still held him.

Mereoleona didn’t doubt that Yami could knock the man out cold. And she might've liked to see it, if not be a part of it, if it wouldn’t have caused Lisbet any trouble. “You and I both know Teris can fend for herself.”

The man reached out to touched Teris. Both Yami and Mereoleona made for him. Teris grabbed the mans arm before he could touch her.

Twisting his wrist in on itself, Teris told him. “I said, no.”

Though she wasn’t putting much pressure, the man tried to turn his body to lessen the painful wrenching of his wrist.

“You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off.” Teris told.

The man nodded vigorously.

“Make sure to leave your waitress a good tip.” Teris said, releasing him with a push.

The man took a couple unsteady steps back. Turning he looked for his table, but couldn’t find it with the way everything spun around him. Instead he merely tossed several coins in the air and stumbled to the door.

The fiery paw on Yami’s head disappeared. Smiling proudly at her cousin, Mereoleona told Yami. “See. Told you she could take care of herself.”

“Never said she couldn’t.” Yami said.

Mereoleona plopped back in her seat across from Teris. “I leave you alone for a couple minutes and you get yourself into trouble.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Teris argued.

“You’re right. That was unfair. It isn’t always you who finds trouble. Half the time it’s trouble that finds you.” Mereoleona teased.

Teris was too annoyed at the truth of it to find her cousin’s words amusing.

Stopping behind his sister, Julius demanded. “What are you doing here?”

Teris spun in her seat, eyes wide and anxious. “Julius!”

“Leave the girl alone, Julius. I brought her.” Mereoleona told, leaning back in her seat.

Julius’ eyes leveled on the Crimson Lions Captain. “Have you no care for my sister’s or family’s image? The women that come to bars in Black Magic Ally are--”

“What?” Mereoleona sat forward, forearms on the table. “What kind of woman am I, Julius? You are referring to women like me, aren’t you? Given that I frequent this place.”

Julius swallowed thickly, reevaluating the wisdom of his argument.

“You come here quite often too. Don’t you, Julius?” Mereoleona pressed when he didn’t answer.

“Let it go.” Jax told the fellow Captain's, taking the seat to Teris’ left.

Yami pulled out the chair to Teris’ right, sliding it closer to hers as he did so. Sitting down he gave her an appraising look.

Teris blushed, feeling self conscious after everything Mereoleona had told her.

Yami smirked thinking her blush was from remembering what they had gotten up to earlier today. “How was the Lion Cub?”

“Sleeping when I got there. He looked good though. No lingering sign of outward injury.” Thinking about everything Mereoleona had told her, Teris tentatively touched Yami’s arm, eyes darting over him.

Yami quirked a brow, wondering at the way Teris was looking at him.

Knowing what she now knew, Teris felt silly for her earlier worry. Making love was so much more than she had imagined. Her eyes fell lower. Though rudimentary, Mereoleona’s drawings had given her an idea of what Yami was concealing. The thought of seeing him naked. Of him seeing her naked. Of Yami touching her where no other but she had seen or touched before. It both made her nervous and excited. No wonder it was customary for such an act to be put off until marriage. It was just so personal. So private. So meaningful and intimate. To share such a thing with someone you hadn’t yet promised your life and love to seemed nigh to impossible to her. Not that she judged Venice or anyone else who didn’t wait or had more than one partner in their lifetime; she just couldn’t see herself doing so.

Julius clasped his sister’s shoulder.

Teris jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Her hand jerked back from Yami’s arm, blushing at where her mind had gone. She ducked her head wondering if Julius had been able to tell and that’s why he was frowning at her.

Julius shook his head. He wondered if there was a set number of times he had to tell them before they listened. Though not an excuse, at least Teris didn’t know the full reasoning behind it all. Yami on the other had faced two attempts on his life because of Nathyn Silva, and yet he still tempted fate being close and alone with Teris when out in public.

Looking down at Yami, Julius ordered. “Scoot.”

Yami growled under his breath and moved his chair a couple inches away from Teris’.

“Scoot over a seat.” Julius clipped, irritated. Had Yami forgotten about the two attempts on his life? Or did he just not care?

“Let the man sit next to his girlfriend.” Mereoleona said.

“Not so loud.” Julius hushed, eyes darting to the surrounding patrons.

Teris stood up. “It’s alright. I’m leaving.”

Julius looked after her, expression pained. Why were they making him out to be the bad guy? He was just trying to protect them.

Getting to his feet, Yami told Julius. “There you can have your choice of seats. Happy?”

“Sit down.” Jax ordered.

Yami stared at his Captain. “After what we learned about the crazies traitor. Are you really fine with her going off alone?”

“I’ll see her home. Shall I, sir?” Jon asked his Captain.

“Thank you, Jon.” Julius nodded.

Jon turned and made after his Captain's sister.

Sinking into the chair Teris had vacated, Julius told Yami. “This was your doing. When are you going to learn? Unlike Teris, you are all too aware of the full reasoning for such discretion.”

Mereoleona’s lip twitched, remembering the threat to Yami’s life that she had spoken to her father about. Looking at Yami, she told. “Much as I hate to admit it, Julius has a point. You should have more care; for both of your sake's. If you truly are interested in marrying, you’ll have the rest of your life to be as free as you want after. Well,” she lifted a shoulder and grinned, “as free as Teris will let you be.”

“Is this the fine young man that’s willing to wait?” Lisbet asked Mereoleona, glancing at Yami.

Jax turned to the waitress. “Why would we have to wait? It’s not like you’re full up with patrons.”

Mereoleona smirked and nodded at Lisbet.

Lisbet’s smile widened. “What can I get you gentlemen?”

“Ale.” Jax and Julius ordered.

“Same.” Yami said.

“Yours is on the house.” Lisbet told Yami.

Yami took in the woman’s curious expression. He wondered at her generosity but wasn’t going to question the good luck.

“This one drink.” Mereoleona told before Yami could get any ideas. She had seen the man drink and didn’t want Lisbet’s pay going to cover Yami’s tab.

“How’s Leon?” Julius asked as the waitress went to fill their orders.

“They say he’ll be released tomorrow morning.” Mereoleona said. She looked at Yami giving him a nod of thanks for going along with the Agents of Chaos’ sick game. No doubt they would've killed Nozel and her brother if Yami and Teris hadn’t obeyed.

Yami looked away from the Crimson Lions Captain. He had nothing against being praised and recognized. But in that case he hadn’t even have a choice.

“I’m just glad that the Future of Chaos wasn’t there. Who knows what ill a man like Alowishus could do with such knowledge.” Jax said.

“I’m just glad it’s not cluttering up my or Teris’ grimoire.” Yami said.

Despite the thing likely being a single magical page like the History of Chaos, Jax understood Yami’s meaning. The Black Bulls Captain was also grateful that Teris didn’t have such a thing to focus and fuss over.

Lisbet returned with four ales. Sliding one to Mereoleona, she gave her friend a wink.

“Thank you, Bet.” Julius said as the waitress set a mug in front of him.

Jax noted that Lisbet didn’t give the Azure Deers Captain her usual flirty smile. As soon as she left, he quietly asked. “She still have a thing for Julius, Leona?”

“Who’s that?” Julius questioned.

Jax gave his friend a look. “Don’t play dumb.”

“That ended long ago. Though I’m sure she’d change her mind right back if Julius ever offered.” Mereoleona said.

Julius’ ears heated. “Can you two please stop.”

While Lisbet was good company and certainly attractive enough, she struck Julius as the type that was looking for a relationship. With his work as Captain, all that was going on with Yami and Teris, and his endeavors to become the next Wizard King. Relationships were something Julius didn’t have the time or inclination for. Even if Lisbet wasn’t Mereoleona’s friend, he wouldn’t have wanted to chance hurting the waitress.

“You and Marx come up with any ideas on who, where, and when the Future of Chaos was moved?” Jax asked Julius.

“Too many and none worthy of mentioning.” Julius sighed, aggravated disappointment showing.

Yami set his drink down. “That labyrinth really was two hundred thousand whatever--”

“297,353.” Julius nodded. “Yes. It was.”

“Crazy Happy Killer Voice said the Future of Chaos would be found there.” Yami said, thinking. “So if Crazy Happy Killer Voice was this Yurist guy and Yurist wrote that the ones who found the History of Chaos would find the Future, does that mean he’s wrong? That the chances of Teris and I finding the Future of Chaos are the same as anyone elses? I mean the damned thing could be destroyed for all we know. Right?”

“Such a magical item would be near impossible to destroy.” Julius said.

“Even so, the thing could be anywhere.” Yami pressed. He didn’t know if he believed in Yurist’s prophecies; but he had hoped Julius would tell him that the Future of Chaos missing from the labyrinth meant that he and Teris were off the hook.

Julius shook his head. “I simply can’t say.”

“Well if you and Marx ever do find out where the thing was moved, be sure to tell me so I can keep Yami and Teris well away from it.” Jax said.

97.5

Calen rose from the chair before Alowishus’ desk. Straightening the orders his Master had given him to pass on to the others, Calen took in a fortifying breath.

Alowishus had been murderous since the night of the labyrinth, but the matter was too important to put off any longer. While Flic hadn’t had any pertinent information about their plans and Sanctuary was magically moved by Alowishus on the night of every new moon, meaning Flic could no longer tell the Magic Knights where they were. The man still had to be dealt with. His crimes of betrayal could not go unpunished.

“Master, if I may. We’ve yet to receive word from Lady Ellara about the traitor, Flic.”

“Nor will we.” Alowishus told. His dual colored eyes lifted from the book he’d just open. “Ellara cannot be anywhere near Flic. It would only give those already suspicious of her what they so desperately want.”

“Then--”

“Iam handling it. Have you learned why Flic abandoned us yet?” Alowishus asked.

“It would be easier if we could bring Ellara to search the lesser members memories.” Calen said.

“Ellara will not be of help with this.” Alowishus said, irritation growing.

“Then if you would allow me to question them more openly.” Calen said.

“No.” Alowishus said, shortly.

Calen inclined his head. “As you wish, Master. I will continue my endeavors.”

“Do more than endeavor.” Alowishus told.

“Yes, Master.” Calen bowed.

Alowishus watched the man exit, closing the door behind him. Left alone, he pushed to his feet and turned to the bookshelf behind his desk. Placing a hand on the now quiet skull, he slid it to the side revealing a small saucer-like dish made of obsidian.

He smiled, seeing the fingernail in the dish was almost fully dissolved. Flic would be dead before the night was through. Pushing the skull back in place, he returned to the desk.

After Captain Shadow Banashe had killed his sixth iteration, Everard Spade, Alowishus had taken the first hundred or so years of his seventh life to work alone. When he had finally decided to rejoin the group he had started in his third life, he took his time to win over the members that called Alric Halvor Master before challenging him for the right to be Master of the Agents of Chaos.

After seeing the dead Alric Halvor’s family expelled, graciously allowing them to seek refuge in the Clover Kingdom, Alowishus had made all the existing members go through a ritual of cleansing and loyalty. Though all of those members were now long dead, Alowishus had made the ritual a prerequisite for joining the Agents of Chaos. It wasn’t the pomp that he was interested in; but the right thumb nail that each person willingly gave during the ritual. Such a thing was hardly necessary for a cleansing and promise of loyalty to him, Chaos, and their cause; but it was a simple way to get what he wanted without anyone asking questions.

This was hardly the first time he had needed to use a followers given nail to find, or kill them from afar. At least Flic’s treason had come at a time when their Sanctuary was routinely moved so Alowishus had not needed to expend any excess energy in moving their base should Flic have told the Magic Knights were to look for them.

With a sigh he looked over his grandfathers final journal. Many said Yurist had gone mad well before the journal was written. And given how jumbled and lacking of sense most of the phrases and sentences were, Alowishus would agree. But that didn’t mean the writings didn’t contain helpful truths.

Considering how many times Alowishus had read the journal that was nothing but snippets about Chaos, Death, Light, and Darkness; he doubted he had missed anything. Still, he hoped Yurist had written something in there that would tell him where his father had moved the Future of Chaos. Surely Yurist’s prophecy magic had shown him that the page would be moved from the labyrinth he had placed it in. And if Yurist's magic had shown him that, then surely he had made some note about it.

Alowishus refused to believe he would never find the Future of Chaos again. Not when having it would guarantee the success of his aims.

Unlike the History of Chaos which was a set spelled page that could only show Chaos’ passed; the Future of Chaos was a volatile, changeable page that could answer questions. It wasn’t alive but imbued with some of Yurist's prophecy magic. And since the future of Chaos wasn’t yet set, like Yurist's prophecy magic, the answers given could often be unclear or altered depending on events and how close those events were to fruition.

Alowishus had had the Future of Chaos for all but half a day before his father stole it; and most of that time with the page had been trying to get somewhere secure so his father couldn’t take it back. As such he had only been able to ask the page how to awaken Chaos and end existence. While such an answer wouldn’t or shouldn't change, it would have been extremely helpful to have the page in hand.

As troublesome as the Spade Kingdom Magical Scientist Rayla had been. Her taking Yami and Teris had ultimately been a help. With his having taken a portion of the overflow of Yami’s mana, Alowishus had been able to track him. It meant Ellara hadn’t needed to use her magic to affect Jorah to assign Yami and Teris to a set area to search for the royal princes.

With two Magic Knights Captain's suspicious of Ellara, her not adding to their suspicious by affecting the Wizard King for something that had ended in failure was the one good thing to come out of all this. And it hadn’t been a complete failure either. While the questions he asked the royal Prince’s had been purposefully all over the place, he now knew what type of mage the Black Bulls were sure to want come the next Magic Knights Entrance Exams in three months.

A spatial mage, Alowishus thought with a smile. Was poor dead Vice Captain Bronn that missed yet so easily replaced? Well if giving up one of his spatial mages would make Yami happy, and get one of his Agents of Chaos welcomed into the Black Bulls, Alowishus would gladly do so.

97.6

“Commander Greywright?”

Seated at the desk in his office, Greywright looked up and blinked in surprise. “Vice Captain Nozel.”

Standing outside the open office door, Nozel glanced at the empty assistants desk in the anteroom. “Forgive me for disturbing you, Sir, but there’s no one here to check-in with.”

“Unless there’s something going on, I insist Luca calls it a day by six at the latest. I see no sense why at least one of us can’t have a life and rest outside work.” The Knights Commander lowered his quill. “Speaking of getting rest. You were just released from Healer’s Hall this afternoon, you should you be at your home or base recuperating.”

“I will, Sir. But I wanted to hand in my report.” Nozel said, lifting the paper.

Greywright beckoned him in with a wave. “One. This report didn’t have to be done until your debriefing tomorrow. Two. You didn’t have to personally hand it in. You could have sent it through secure magical carrier. But having been a Magic Knight for nearly four years, you know that. Take a seat.”

“Thank you.” Nozel sat in one of the two chairs in front of the Commander’s desk.

Greywright noted Nozel’s stiff movements and slight grimace as he sat. The royal really should be at home or the Silver Eagles base convalescing. So why wasn’t he? “What can I do for you, Vice Captain?”

Nozel noticed the untouched touched dinner, pushed aside on Greywright’s desk and felt a margin of guilt. The Magic Knights Commander was clearly busy if he had ignored his supper. But the matter he wanted to discuss was important, and after he and Fuegoleon had been taken and tortured by the Agents of Chaos, he felt that he had a right to some answers.

A knock sounded before Nozel could speak.

Greywright looked to the door. Without waiting for leave, one of the guards who worked at Magic Knights Headquarters entered.

“Commander.” The stony faced man greeted, handing Greywright a slip of paper.

Greywright read the short note and sighed. “Sir Jorah has been informed?”

“Yes, sir. And someone was sent to inform Advisor Ellara as well.” The Guard said.

Greywright nodded. “Dismissed.”

“Sir.” The Guard saluted and exited the office.

Folding the missive and setting it aside, Greywright told Nozel. “Your time just got considerably shorter, Vice Captain. I’d hurry up and speak if I were you.”

“Sir?” Nozel’s brow furrowed, not understanding.

“Flic has died.” Greywright said.

“The Agents of Chaos traitor!” Nozel blinked.

“Yes. And the Wizard King will likely be sending for me shortly, so speak.” Greywright said.

He would’ve gone to the Wizard King’s office immediately; but Greywright couldn’t see what harm Ellara could do in this instance. Ellara had been strangely uninterested in the traitor Flic after that first day. And they had already known Flic would likely die sometime before tomorrow morning. Greywright couldn’t help a dead man; but he could listen to and hopefully help one of his Magic Knights.

That would be nice, Greywright thought. To be of actual help again, instead of just trying to stave off and mitigate disasters.

Nozel stared, wondering why the Knights Commander wasn’t rushing to the prisoners body or Sir Jorah now.

Seeing his wondering pause, Greywright told. “Flic’s death was sadly expected, Vice Captain. He had grown considerably ill at a rather alarming rate and there was nothing the Healer’s could do for him. But that isn’t why you came, so why have you?”

“I--” Nozel faltered when the Knights Commander held out a hand. Mind still whirling from the news he just heard, it took him a second realize Greywright was asking for the report he still held. He passed it over. “I was hoping for answers, sir.”

“Answers? To what?” Greywright asked, looking over the report.

“The Agents of Chaos.”

Greywright’s eyes lifted, all hope of being of help to someone crumbling to dust. “The Magic Knights Captain’s were told what information they were allowed to give their squads. Seeing as Kess seems like a fairly open Captain and you’re her Vice Captain, I would imagine she told you all she could.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you were there when Vice Captain's Yami Sukehiro and Teris Nova convinced the now dead Mister Flic to yield to my interrogation.” Greywright said, lowering Nozel’s report.

“Yes, sir.”

“So what else is there for you to know?” Greywright asked, disappointment making his tone stern.

“With all respect. Everything, sir. What did Mister Flic say during your interrogation of him? What has Magic Investigations learned of the Agents of Chaos and how the group plans to go about their aims? What are we doing to find and combat them and those plans? What exactly happened during the Summer Solstice that lit up the sky almost a year ago? Why is Alowishus Spade seemingly fixated on Lady Teris and Yami Sukehiro?”

Greywright didn’t miss the bite to Nozel’s tone when he said Yami’s name, but didn’t comment on it. “Those are a lot of serious questions, Vice Captain.”

“Being taken and tortured is a serious matter, sir.”

“Is that why you think you deserve answers when you have the same information we are willing to allow any other Magic Knights Vice Captain?”

“Lady Teris and… he have more information.” Nozel said, unable to say Yami’s name again when the image of Yami pressing Teris against the wall refused to leave his mind no matter how far back he tried to bury it.

“Sir Jorah has only allowed them more information relatively recently, and that is only because the matter involves them.” Greywright said.

Nozel lifted his chin slightly. “Fuegoleon and I were taken and tortured. It involves us now too.”

Greywright lifted and skimmed Nozel’s report as he spoke. “Yami and Teris’ report stated that Alowishus Spade said you and Fuegoleon were taken as means to force them to do his bidding; and from what I see here, you say pretty much the same.” He lowered the paper and sighed. “I understand you’re upset and want answers. None of us here are happy you and Fuegoleon were abducted and used as pawns.”

Nozel’s eye twitched at being called a pawn. Yes, that’s what he and Fuegoleon had been to Alowishus and the Agents of Chaos; but it didn’t mean he liked it.

“But, upsetting as it is, being taken and tortured does not equate to being involved in this.” Greywright continued, thinking that he would seriously consider quitting, his promise to Sir Jorah be damned, if any more of his Magic Knights became the focus of these crazies.

“Teris is my Intended.” Nozel stated.

Greywright paused briefly at that. “I am aware. But I do not understand what you think you’ll gain by saying that.”

Nozel’s eyes shifted down and away from the Knights Commander. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he had hoped to gain from saying it either. He knew full well it meant nothing in this instance. It was just that after seeing Yami and Teris this afternoon a part of him had needed to say it. Had needed to hear someone in authority acknowledge it. As if saying and hearing it would somehow fix everything and erase what he had seen.

“I’m sorry, Vice Captain.”

Nozel’s gaze lifted. For a moment he thought the Knights Commander was apologizing for what he had witnessed between Yami and Teris.

“I know this can’t be easy. But until Sir Jorah says otherwise, I cannot tell you any more. You will have to be satisfied with the answers that you have.” Greywright straightened at the sudden appearance of Cob outside his door. “Ah, Cob. I was wondering when you would show.”

“Good evening, Commander. The Wizard King wishing to meet with you immediately.” Cob said, jovially.

“Yes.” Greywright stood, taking up his transportation charm. “Please do me a favor and see Vice Captain Nozel either home or to the Silver Eagles base. He has a long morning ahead, and needs to rest and recuperate.” Greywright looked at Nozel. “If you must. Consider that an order, Vice Captain.”

Nozel’s hand twitched at the twinge of his still tender side as he slowly got to his feet. “Yes, sir.”

“See you tomorrow morning.” Greywright said andactivated the transportation charm.

97.7

Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Teris got to her feet and told Yami. “I’ll meet you out by the picnic table.”

“You barely touched your plate.” Yami commented.

“Can blame her.” Tobin muttered, chewing around the overly dry food.

“Hey.” Gendry scowled, offended on Abril’s behalf.

“Then tell your girl to learn how to cook.” Tobin shot back.

Ignoring the two men, Jax looked between his Vice Captain's. “Where you two going?”

“Taking Pilfer and No Name out for a run.” Yami said. It was actually a date; but that wasn’t anyone’s business.

Jax shook his head. “No.”

Yami glowered. “What do you mean, no?”

“Exactly that.” Jax said.

“You’re the one who told me to get this aggression outta my system.” Yami stormed.

“Find another way to do it. You’re not going out. And if you can’t you’re staying tomorrow.” Jax warned.

Still standing at the table, Teris looked between the two. “Why? What’s going on tomorrow?”

“Nothing.” Jax and Yami said. A sure sign that it was definitely something.

“What’s the harm in taking a ride?” Yami asked. The anger building in him might've been a bit out of proportion for the circumstance, but Jax’s order was just as overdone.

“I. Said. No.” Jax clipped.

Muttering a curse, Yami grabbed and lifted the tables edge, slamming it back down.

Teris stared wide eyed.

Tobin’s drink fell over onto his plate. He cursed then shrugged; it couldn’t have made the meal any worse.

The rest of the Black Bulls sat silently, watching out of the corner of their eye.

“Are you finished?” Jax questioned, calmly.

Though the outburst had helped his growing temper, Yami snarled. “It’s just a damned ride.”

Jax threw his napkin down. “It’s never just anything when it’s the two of you. Damn it, Yami! Why must you tempt fate? I swear, Julius is right. You never learn!”

“If fate has plans for me and Teris, I’ll kill the bastard along with the Agents of Chaos.” Yami growled. He looked at the Captain, sudden temper further diminishing. He needed space to breath. The base and people making him feel as if he’d been caged in for far too long in a too small enclosure. “I just want a moments peace. That’s all. Just an hour out and away. Two at most.”

Jax’s expression softened. He felt for Yami; but that didn’t change the fact that his squads safety was far more important than their wants or needs. Mereoleona had been right when she told Yami he had the rest of his life to be as free with Teris as Teris would allow once the mess of Nozel being her Intended was over with. Then again, the loss of his love Belinda, and Bronn’s death had proved that fate was cruel and laughed at such hope filled plans.

Jax shook his head clear of the depressing thoughts. “With you and Teris being taken only a couple days ago and the Summer Solstice so near--”

“They have no plans for us for the Summer Solstice. Alowishus said so himself.” Yami argued.

“Which could be a lie.” Jax said.

“That sick lunatic has done a lot to us, but he’s yet to lie.” Yami said.

“Yet.” Jax stressed. “He hasn’t lied yet. Come on, Yami. With what’s going on with Flic you should’ve seen this coming.”

“Tch.” Yami turned away, making a face.

Teris looked between the two. “Why? What’s going on with Flic?”

Jax glanced at Teris, then back at Yami. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Teris questioned.

Jax explained about Flic’s unknown illness and the likelihood he would be dead by morning.

Not sure which Vice Captain he was apologizing to, Jax apologized. “Sorry. I thought Yami would've told you.”

“One would've thought.” Teris frowned down at Yami.

“I was going to.” Yami said.

“Sure you were.” Teris spun on a heel and stormed away, leaving her dirty plate.

“Teris, come on. Teris!” Yami called, watching her disappear through the dining room door. Getting to his feet, he cursed and grabbed the table lifting and slamming it back down.

Jax lifted his hands watching his drink tip over. Maybe taking Yami tomorrow really wasn’t the smartest thing.

97.7.2

Climbing the stairs two at a time Yami caught up to Teris as she reached the second floor landing. He grabbed her arm, stopping her from continuing on up to the third level girls wing.

Pulling her back down the two steps she had climbed, Yami griped. “Will you just wait a dang second and listen.”

Teris tried to pull free, her voice angry and wounded. “Why? So you can explain away why you’re still not telling me stuff? I thought we had moved passed this after— Iban.”

Yami opened his mouth to say that they had, but followed Teris’ gaze to see the Blood Mage watching them from the ground floor. “Go away before I kill you, Creepy.” He turned back to Teris, not waiting to see if Iban complied. “Come here.”

Teris’ eyes widened when Yami tugged her down the hall toward the boys wing. “No. Yami. I can’t go down there!”

Growling, Yami bent and lifted her over his shoulder.

Teris yelped. Squealing, she kicked out. “Yami! It’s not proper!”

Yami gave another rumbling growl, feet staggering slightly from Teris’ squirming and kicks. Shifting the balance of her weight, he continued down the hall, giving her butt a sharp smack. “Settle down.”

He kicked his bedroom door open and stepped inside. Setting Teris down on her feet, he closed the door and leaned against it.

Teris blew her hair out of her face, wide eyes darting around the space.

Yami crossed his arms and smirked. She looked like a trapped hare. As cute as he found it, he didn’t want her to be nervous or afraid. “Calm down. It’s not like I haven’t been in your bedroom before.”

Teris stepped backwards. “That’s different.”

Yami quirked a brow. “How so?”

She bumped something and gasped, spinning around.

Yami chuckled. “That’s my bed. You can have a seat if you want.”

“No. Thank you.” Teris took a sideways step.

Yami’s smile grew. It was cute how the royal politeness of her upbringing so quickly and easily came forward despite her clear ire and nervousness. He pushed away from the door and stepped to the bed. Falling back into the mattress, he pillowed his head with his hands and stretched out with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll take it then.”

Teris watched Yami kick out his legs, crossing his ankles. “Why didn’t you tell me about Flic?”

“I was going to.”

Teris huffed.

Yami lifted his head, looking at her. “You doubt me?”

“Just when were you planning on telling me? After he was dead?”

Yami laid his head back down. “I was gonna tell you after our ride tonight. Didn’t wanna ruin it with the news. Instead, Jax ruined it all anyway.”

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, but he’s just worried about us. Besides, he has a point.”

Yami sighed. The dark, brooding feeling within him that was constantly simmering wanted to bubble up in anger at Teris for agreeing with Jax’s point. But he knew that wasn’t really him. It was the thing inside him. The thing he had been battling since the sun set on the night of the Winter Solstice. He wondered if Teris had struggled with the same when the supposed primordial force inside her was on the rise, but didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to worry her if it hadn’t been the same. Surely she would've said something if it had been like this for her.

He sat up and pushed back in bed leaning against the headboard. “Sorry. I should've told you sooner.”

“You wanted us to enjoy ourselves without all that mess. I’m sorry I got angry. I never should have doubted you.”

“Jax wants to take me to Nozel’s debriefing tomorrow.” Yami said.

Teris sighed. It was an easy enough thing to figure given the way Yami and Jax had responded to her questioning in the dining hall. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already known about Nozel’s scheduled debriefing. She wondered if and when Yami had originally planned on telling her that. Possibly after their date this evening too. She’d never know for sure now, she sullenly thought. She was just as frustrated by all the rules and restrictions as Yami was. Would they still have to face house arrest and escorts? They were Vice Captain's for mana sake.

She turned away, her disgust at the situation switching to curiosity as she took in Yami’s bedroom. Yami smirked and watched her look about in interest.

“Is it was you imagine?” He asked.

Teris looked back at him, the slight tint in her cheeks belying the surety of her tone. “I thought it’d be messier.”

Yami smiled crookedly. “Yeah well, I haven’t been spending much time in here and the clothes were just sent out for washing so...”

Teris gestured to a box on top of a chest of drawers. “May I?”

“Look through whatever you want.” Yami said.

Teris tentatively opened the long, thin box. It contained instruments used for detailing his katana.

“Don’t stop there.” Yami told.

She could hear the taunting smile in his voice and took it as a challenge to continue, knowing he thought she wouldn’t.

Yami lazily sat back watching her open and close various drawers and cupboards. “Looking for your bra?”

Teris’ eyes slid to him without amusement.

“You’re nowhere close.” Yami taunted.

She closed a drawer overly hard.

Yami watched her walk around the bed to his desk and smiled. “You’re getting closer.”

“Shut— I’m not looking for it. So just—stop.”

Yami chuckled at her temper. “Fine. Forget I mentioned it.” He swung his legs off the bed closing the nightstand drawer she had just opened. “Not that one.”

“What happened to, look through whatever you want?” Teris teased.

“Whatever you want but this one drawer.”

Teris shook her head. “That’s not what you said. You said--”

“I know what I said.” Yami interrupted, hand lifting off of the drawer as he stood.

“Then?” Teris stared up at him, fingers wrapping around the knob and slowly pulling the drawer open.

The side of Yami’s leg pressed against it, closing the drawer back up. “So I misspoke. What of it? You don’t see me going up to your room looking through everything.”

“No. Just stealing undergarments.” Teris humored brow raised.

Yami smiled proudly at that. “If I remember correctly you threw them at me.”

“And if I remember correctly, I never gave you leave to go looking about my things, where as you gave me permission to look.”

Yami grabbed her wrist, arm wrapping around her to pin it to her back. “You’re a greedy little brat, you know that.”

He looked her over, eyes lingering on the rise and fall of her chest. His other hand skimmed up her free arm to cup her face.

Teris’ teasing smile faltered. “Yami. I—we--”

“Shh.” Yami’s thumb brushed lightly across her lips. “Leave what’s in that drawer alone. You’ll find out was in there soon enough. Think of it like sex.”

Teris’ eyes widened, heart quickening.

Yami smirked at her expression. “Something to wait for.”

“You still do, right?”

“Still do what?” Yami asked.

“Want to wait.”

Yami’s brows furrowed. He had told her as much. Why was she... “Are you asking cause of what we did earlier today?”

Teris became defensive. “I know it wasn’t sex.”

“Who would think that was sex?” Yami chuckled.

Blushing at her naivety, Teris pushed him back. “Shut up.”

Yami laughed louder. When she tried to pull away from him, he grew serious. He stared a moment, confused at how upset she had become. “What’d I say?”

“Nothing.” Teris shook her head, crossing her arms when Yami released her.

“If I don’t know, how am I to not do it again?” Yami asked.

“It’s nothing.” Teris said, temper in her tone lessening.

“You can tell me anything, you know.”

“And you can show me anything.” Teris said, eyes flicking to the nightstand drawer with interest.

“Alright then.” Yami grinned, mischievously.

Teris’ eyes brightened then closed tightly shut when his hands went to his belt buckle. “Yami!”

Yami laughed, looking freely over her.

“Is it safe?” Teris timidly asked.

“Hardly.” Yami’s deep voice rumbled, eyes raking over her form.

Teris’ eyes opened.

“What?” Yami asked, innocently.

“What?” Teris echoed. Her eyes darted down, both glad and slightly disappointed his buckle and pants were still done.

Yami smiled crookedly. “You’re too easy, Princess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Teris asked, a hint of temper in her tone.

Sitting in bed, Yami gripped her hips and pulled her closer, his legs spread to either side of her. Teris stopped, unable to get any closer without falling into bed with him.

“Don’t worry, Ikigai. I’m far too easy when it comes to you too.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” Teris asked.

She saw a bit of color peeking out from under Yami’s pillow. With a blink she realized it was her bra. And here she had been certain it had been hidden in the nightstand drawer he wouldn’t let her open. Now she really wanted to know what was in the drawer.

Yami’s eyes lowered to the front of her upper left thigh. “Let me kiss that birthmark of yours and I’ll consider telling you want it means.”

Teris’ eyes shot back to him. “Yami!”

“Alright then, just let me see it.”

“Yami.”

“What? It’s not like I haven’t seen it once before.” And a million other times in my head, Yami thought.

“No.”

“Fine. Then can I touch it?” Yami asked, hand already sliding down from her hip to do so.

“Yami! No.” Teris squeaked and laughed, slapping away his hand.

Yami bent, lowering his head. “You sure I can’t kiss it?”

“Yami!” Teris put her hands on his shoulders holding him at bay.

There was a quick knock followed by the bedroom door opening.

Olsen poked his head in. Seeing Yami sitting on the bed. Teris standing between his legs. Yami’s head bent, face so near Teris. And Teris gripping the mans powerful shoulders. The Water Mage quickly ducked his head back out. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“No. No.” Teris called. She stepped back, Yami’s hands falling to his knees.

Olsen peeked back in, apologizing once more. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“There was nothing to interrupt.” Teris said.

“Says you.” Yami grumbled. Turning to Olsen, he demanded. “What do you want?”

Olsen continued as if neither Vice Captain had spoken. “It’s only Iban said I could find you up here. But, he said nothing about Teris being with you.”

“Of course he didn’t.” Yami muttered and asked again. “What do you want?”

Teris made of the door. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Teris, wait.” Yami reached, but she was too quick in her steps.

Olsen inclined his head as Teris passed.

Yami listened to her footfalls as they hurried down the hall and up the stairs. He eyed Olsen murderously. “What have I told you about entering without leave?”

Olsen held up his hands in a placating surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But whatever was going on would've come to a halt whether I waited for a response or not.”

“Nothing was going on.” Yami said.

Looking back over his shoulder, Tobin pushed his way passed Olsen and entered Yami’s room. “Was that Teris I saw rushing from this way?”

“Shut up.” Yami snapped.

Olsen gave Tobin a nod.

“What happened to wanting to wait?” Bran asked from the doorway.

Tobin smirked lewdly. “I knew you couldn’t wait. You--”

“If you want to keep your tongue, stop using.” Yami growled. He got to his feet and frog-stepped Tobin and Olsen out of his room. “Bran! Go feed the wolves.”

“Gendry took them out for a run.” Bran said.

“Then go do something else useful.” Yami said.

“Like stepping in here and stopping what you and Teris were up to?” Olsen asked.

Yami glowered. “I told you, nothing was going on.”

“You should take more care.” Olsen said. “That is if you truly wish to wait. A year and a half may not seem like much. But it can be a very long time indeed.”

Tell me about it, Yami thought.

“A word of advice. Holding out for such a time would greatly be aided if you didn’t enter each others bedrooms.” Olsen went on.

“What he said.” Tobin said, backing into Bran as he was backed out of Yami’s room.

“Didn’t ask for your advice.” Yami told the two men, slamming the door in their faces.

Exhaling, Yami ran a hand through his hair. He turned around and leaned back against the door. He saw Teris in every area she had been, and several places she hadn’t. Namely his bed. Closing his eyes, his head banged back against the door.

Unwanted advice or not, Olsen was right about one thing. A year and a half seemed like a very long time indeed.

***Important question***

So I have what would be some longer chapters like this one. Currently, they have been cut in half to cut down on length and give me a buffer between what I’m writing and posting. The question I have for you all is, do you like these weekly updates, which would mean those longer chapters would stay cut in half? Our would you prefer longer chapters like this one, which would mean switching from weekly to every other week updates?

Also I got a couple asks this past week that might interest some readers. One is a reader theory and the other is about the fic length and how I section it. There's links on ao3, or you can just go to my tumblr's honepage.

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

“If all the History of Chaos covered was strictly just the history of Chaos why would it even make an attempt at showing you the image of Alowishus Spade or the Master of Master's? No matter how old Alowishus Spade is, I seriously doubt he’s old enough to have been alive and around during the time of Chaos’ reign and defeat which brought about Order.”

Teris frowned, having never thought of that. Her eyes lifted to Marx realization dawning. “You think the portrait is of Yurist.”

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #julius novachrono #marx francois #mereoleona vermillion #black clover #light in the darkness

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