#no of course not i was too busy gliding around with knuckles looking for secret rooms or whatever

[allbeendonebefore]

cant do anything but watch tv and play games and i finally beat sonic 1 the other day and parents were like “how many years did that take you” and im like well i never really played sonic 1 as a kid but i guess technically as long as ive been alive hahahaa

then i start playing sonic 2 and im like “wow this is harder than i remember” [doesnt recognize a single level after chemical plant zone]

me: ah... once again it seems that the only games I played seriously as a kid were ones with knuckles in them... i see.......

[sephirthoughts]

Now that you jumped on the Nero is Vincent's son train, how would Sephiroth and him get along? Nero has a lot of grief from Weiss death of course and overall trauma in general. Would Sephiroth also react to him like he did to his sister?

OH. I am so glad you asked. Cause I love this so much.

*cracks knuckles* Characters: Sephiroth and Nero (big brother and little brother).

Setting: Vincent and Cid's house, later the same night Nero arrived.

THIS IS NOW VINCENT'S NEW KID JUST DROPPED, CH. 2

In the small hours of the morning, when that blanket of silence that lies upon a sleeping household was thickest, Nero carefully opened his bedroom door. The knob made the faintest metallic click, then it swung open silently. Fortunately for him, the house was new enough that the hinges didn’t creak, which he had observed earlier in the day, or he'd never have tried this.

Enveloping himself in darkness, he padded down the pitch dark hallway, as softly and silently as a cat, past the closed door of another bedroom. 

Across the T intersection in the hallway, were the doors to the occupied bedrooms. The baby’s door was open a crack, but the main bedroom’s door was closed. Not as if they’d have heard him anyway, with the way one of them (certainly the scruffy blonde smoker) was snoring.

Letting the tendrils of darkness lead, Nero turned right, gliding toward the living room. There was a night-light on, by the front door, casting deep, eerie shadows across the space. To him it was a beacon. Only a few meters to the front door and freedom. Then he could go back and wait for Weiss, at their secret place.

He sneered to himself, as he stepped out of the hallway. He should thank that idiot judge for remanding him to the custody of that man they kept calling his father. These fools were far too trusting, to leave him unchained and unguarded. Did they really expect him to quietly accept his fate, and submit to living in capt—

Only his preternatural reflexes saved him from being blinded by the razor-sharp blade that was suddenly mere millimeters from his eye. He stood frozen in place, heart pounding in his ears, all his hypertuned senses focused on that long, thin blade. It was steady as a rock, without even the tiny movements caused by a swordsman’s pulse and breathing. How the hell had he not sensed it! The darkness should have alerted him!

In the inky shadows, behind the blade, a pair of glowing, bright-green eyes materialized. “Going somewhere?”

Nero cursed inwardly. What the hell was this psychopath doing here? He didn't live here, the other bedroom was empty. He assumed the man had gone. Well, nothing for it but to brazen it out.

“Getting a glass of water.”

The green eyes blinked. “Which required you to put on your boots.”

“I already had them on,” he retorted, mustering all the sullen indignation he could. “What business is it of yours? And what the hell are you doing lurking in the dark with a sword? Don’t you know that’s dangerous?”

The shadowy figure withdrew the blade and stepped closer, looming over him like a shade of death. Nero, who was only five-eight, himself, looked up at Sephiroth, attempting to swallow in a suddenly dry throat.

He definitely hadn’t looked this big, when he’d met him today. Granted, he’d only seen him sitting around with the baby. Now, he was inclined to believe the reports that Shinra's infamous weapon of mass destruction was six-foot-seven. 

His casual clothing from earlier had been replaced by that iconic, leather coat, with the white pauldrons and chest harness, and his famously beautiful silver hair was left loose, cascading freely about his shoulders. He hardly seemed like the same person, at all, with the vicious light in his slit-pupil eyes, and that icy, malevolent smile.

“You’re Sephiroth,” Nero said. “That famous war hero, who they say went mad and slaughtered an entire village full of innocent people.”

“You’re mistaken,” Sephiroth said mildly. “Everyone knows that he died. Or, did you not get the news, in whatever hole Shinra was keeping you in.”

“That’s too bad,” Nero sneered. “I admired his work.”

All this time, his tendrils of darkness had been creeping around behind the man, coiling like snakes. As he said the last few words, all of them struck at once, instantaneously creating a crackling, purple-black vortex of certain death, around the target.

He and Weiss had developed this attack, together. There was no evading it and there was no shield, physical or mystical, that its Chaos born un-light could not pierce. He smiled coldly to himself.

But just as the field constricted, to consume its prey, his darkness vortex slipped out of his control, and began to spin, faster and faster, the tendrils curling in on themselves, contracting and condensing, till the whole thing was no larger than a baseball. Sephiroth held it, floating between his fingertips.

“A pretty little trick. But too easy to turn against you,” he said, and absorbed the purple-black sphere into his palm. 

Nero choked and staggered. Black blood streamed down his chin and dripped onto the floor. His connection to the darkness, that let him feel it and manipulate it like part of his own body, was wrested from him, by Sephiroth. His booted feet skidded across the wood floor, as his own power was used like puppet strings, to drag him toward the man. Sephiroth’s big, black-gloved hand caught him by the throat. 

“Let us clear a few things up, Nero,” he said calmly. “The only reason you are here, is because my father is too soft-hearted.”

Soft hearted? Nero shuddered, thinking of that maniac demon, immune to his darkness, who had torn through him like paper and beaten him within an inch of his life.

“I am not nearly so gentle nor forgiving as he is. He may have accepted you, as his son, but I have not accepted you, as my brother. Until you have proven to me that you can behave like a proper member of this family, I will not acknowledge your right to be here.”

“I don’t w—want to be here!” Nero choked out, clawing impotently at Sephiroth’s absurdly strong hand. “I don’t care about this family! My only family is Weiss! If I don’t have a right to be here, then let me go! I want to go back to my brother! Let me g—ck!” His demands were strangled in his throat, as Sephiroth tightened his grip. 

“Keep your voice down, intruder,” he hissed, in Nero’s ear. “If you wake my little sister, I will make sure you regret it.”

So saying, he dragged Nero bodily into the kitchen, by his neck, and shoved him into a chair, in the breakfast nook. Nero’s body moved jerkily under Sephiroth’s control, his hands and feet placing themselves flat on the table and floor, respectively, as if they’d been glued in place. 

Seeing him yanking at them, Sephiroth gave a snort of laughter. “There’s no point in attempting to break free. You’re not even a match for my father, and he is no match for me.”

As he said this, his black leather ensemble, including coat, gloves, trousers, and high boots, warped and shimmered, and he was suddenly wearing his white t-shirt and black jeans, from before.

Nero left off struggling and watched, dumbfounded, as Sephiroth pressed a button on a thing that looked like a miniature rice cooker, then took a baby bottle out of the refrigerator, and put it in the thing.

“Ollie will be up soon. May as well warm up her bottle, now,” he explained, to his bemused captive.

Was this seriously the hero of Wutai? The one-winged angel? The man whose very name struck fear into the hearts of pretty much everyone? Why was he so…domestic?

Sephiroth, meanwhile, wrapped his long, silver hair into a knot, and stuck a chopstick through it, to hold it in place. Next, he got out a glass, filled it with water, and placed it in front of Nero.

“What the hell is this?” Nero demanded. 

“Your glass of water,” Sephiroth answered blandly. “Oh, but how thoughtless of me.” He opened a drawer, from which he produced a bright-purple curly straw, and stuck it into Nero’s glass. “There. No hands required.”

Nero blinked down at the water, then back up at Sephiroth. Now he was taking containers from the refrigerator, and heating a frying pan on the stove. Nero was too spellbound by this bizarre behavior, to bother being contrary, and unconsciously leaned down to take a sip of water, from this idiotic straw. He realized, after that sip, that he was parched with thirst, and drained the glass quickly.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth had put oil, leftover rice, and some vegetables and tofu from supper into the frying pan. After he browned the mixture for a while, he added some garlic and soy sauce, and a few things Nero didn’t recognize. At that point, the enticing, savory-salty aroma permeated the kitchen, and Nero’s stomach growled with hunger. 

He hadn’t come out of his room for supper, from sheer obstinacy, and the dry ration packets they sporadically bothered to toss into his cell in the max-security prison had been frankly inedible. Not that he ate much, anyway. He hadn’t had something he’d call a meal since…

He clenched his teeth against the deep pang of homesickness, when he thought of his brother, and forced his mind back to the immediate present. His thirst had only been whetted by the glass of water, and his lips felt dry and cracked, but he’d be damned if he let any of these people think he wanted anything from them.

To his manifest irritation, Sephiroth stepped over and dumped some kind of orange liquid into his glass, from a cardboard carton. Before he even had a chance to glare at the man, he had already walked away, and was cracking eggs into his steaming frying pan. 

If sitting him here and making him watch the most dangerous man in the world act like a housewife was some form of psychological torture, it was ingenious. But he may as well get what he could out of it. Rationalizing it to himself, as necessary fuel for his body, now that he wasn’t being saturated in mako all day, Nero sucked down the tangy, sweet, slightly aromatic juice.

He was trying to make his exhausted brain work out a plan, for a way escape, when a bowl and spoon were plunked down in front of him, giving him a start. He looked down and grimaced at the contents of the bowl.

“Fried rice,” Sephiroth said.

That was certainly what it looked like. The formerly white rice was now part of a brown, oily mélange, which also included egg, orange and green things he knew were carrots and peas, and various pale bits that must be tofu. It looked disgusting. 

“You expect me to eat this?” 

Sephiroth crossed his arms on his impressive chest. “You didn’t come to supper. I know you’re hungry.”

Nero tossed his head indignantly. “Tch.”

“I’m going to free one of your hands. You will use that spoon to eat everything in that bowl.”

“Like hell I wi—” 

“If you refuse to cooperate, I will feed it to you,” Sephiroth cut him off, with that terrifyingly placid smile.

Nero glowered. “What business is it of yours, anyway? Why do you care if I eat or not?”

“I do not care about you, in the least. But if you starve yourself and become ill, my father will be unhappy.”

“So what? Why should I care if he's unhappy?”

“He is your father, too.”

“That person is not my father! It’s his fault all of this happened! It’s his fault that Weiss—” Nero broke off and looked down at his bowl. “It’s all his fault. I have to get back to my brother. I need to get back to him.”

“Wiess is dead,” Sephiroth said flatly. “You know he is dead. I am the only brother you have, now.”

“No. No. You’re not my brother. Weiss is my brother. He’s the only one. The only one.”

“Eat. Now.”

Knowing it was useless to resist, Nero used his freed hand to pick up the spoon, and sullenly shoved a bite of the strange food into his mouth. He was so surprised, he was unable to entirely conceal his reaction, when he tasted it, at which Sephiroth smirked. 

Nero didn't care. He no longer cared about anything but this bowl of food. He had no idea anything could taste like this. He’d been fed dry rations and nutritional pastes, since he was a child. Weiss was the only person who had ever cooked him a meal, and that had been a bit of tough meat and some mushy, flavorless vegetables. 

This was…this was what food in heaven must taste like. He felt his eyes sting, like they were about to water, so he kept his head down and focused on getting as much of it into his mouth as he could, as quickly as possible, as if he was afraid someone might take it away.

When his bowl was empty, Sephiroth took it and filled it again, without a word. By the time he was halfway through the second bowl, the fatigue hit him full-on. His eyes were drooping and his head kept nodding, but he pressed on resolutely, to the very last bite. 

“You’re fixated on Weiss, because he was your blood relative, and he was kind to you,” Sephiroth said, taking the empty bowl away, to place it in the sink. “But don’t forget, my father is also your blood relative. And he has saved your life twice.”

He turned back to the table, but the black-haired young man had passed out, and was fast asleep in the chair, with his head hanging to one side. Lifting his brother in his arms, like a child, Sephiroth carried him down the hall to his bedroom, where he laid him in his bed, removed his boots, and tucked him in.  

“I was just like you,” he sighed, looking down at the sleeping face, that was so much like their father's. “So terrified to be alone, and so determined to push everyone away. You’ll get better, too. I’ll make sure of it.”

When he returned to the kitchen, he stopped short, stiffening up and becoming suddenly nervous. Vincent was standing there, in the middle of the kitchen, looking around at the frying pan and utensils, and the bowl and things still in the sink. 

“I wasn’t going to leave it,” Sephiroth said hastily. “I was just coming back to clean up.”

Vincent turned around slowly, looking at him with those beautiful, scarlet eyes, that everyone in the family had, but himself. He reached out, suddenly, as if to touch him, and Sephiroth flinched. A reflex, from years of violent abuse, by Hojo and his handlers at Shinra.

Vincent jerked his hand back, looking embarrassed. “Oh, I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s—I didn’t mean to—anyway, I’m sorry. Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, now.”

Sephiroth hurried to the sink, avoiding his father’s gaze, and set to work cleaning up. Behind him, Vincent reached out again, wavered, then drew back. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For looking after your brother.”

Sephiroth turned, to make some reply, but Vincent was already gone.

LINK TO CH 3.

[popcornforone]

September

From the Marcus Pike Fan Fic Diary

Master list

August

Thank god for a friend sending me a Pike edit. I almost forgot to post this today. Mainly because I’m going away next week & I have a mini plan in place. So let’s see where they are this month.

Synopsis:- It’s your anniversary & you report back to the diary on your special day.

Work count:- 1100

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, pleasure, stimulation, alcohol. This is much shorter & less smuttier than the other chapters but I don’t think it needed to be long. Creepy guy who doesn’t accept no consent, but consent is used for the rest of it.Remember this is in a diary format.

Thanks as always for the read & feedback peoples I hope you enjoy.

I know Marcus spoils me but then there was yesterday. It was our anniversary.

I tell you the story every year diary. How there was a creep who wouldn’t take no for an answer, who was drunk & tried to grope me. I said I’d had a boyfriend as I walked past a table of guys & this red flag man almost followed me into the ladies. Next thing I knew Marcus was standing behind me rubbing my hand saying baby, it’s our anniversary come dance with me. He had a message on his phone so only I could read it, saying he worked for the government & would keep me safe. To make it look real to the creep, we kissed tenderly (with consent of course) & made sure we danced close or were near each other all night & I thought I would never see the hero man again. I didn’t get his number or his surname all I knew was he was called Marcus. But 3 days later, red roses arrived at my apartment, that I shared at the time with 3 friends, asking if I wanted to meet up in a week or a years time for our anniversary. & the rest is history.

We didn’t need to book the day off either of us. It was a Saturday, means we can chill today too. I woke up to his kisses as he was my big spoon, his erection pressing into my lower back & his hand once he knew I was awake, strumming my clit. I moaned away, feeling his affection & love as he pleasured me. I moan was low as he plundered me. Every inch feeling exquisite, he likes me when I completely give into him in bed & when he came the beguiled look on his face was wonderful.

Then I made breakfast. His favourite avocado on toast. I can’t stand it but he says I do something really good with the toast. I don’t, it’s just normal toast, but he ate that down, like a man who hadn’t eaten in months.

As he was in the shower the door bell rang & there was my bunch of red roses, with the same note as every year, dinner in a week or a year. I sniffed them before I felt his arms around me to sniff my air. Whispered words escaping his lips.

“I’ll always be here for you baby, I love you”

We then went for a walk, not to far. The park about 4 blacks away. It wasn’t too cold or breezy. A jumper or light jacket was fine for us. I tried to listen to our conversation but my mind was busy thinking how many times he was stroking my knuckles, that fat flat thumb gliding across. Me thinking of all the other places his fingers & thumbs go when he wants me at his mercy.

We got a coffee & cake by the cafe, which was when I decided to give him his anniversary gift… he cried… he cried a lot. I cried too. The way he held me & then kissed me looking down at the gift diary, it would make even the darkest hearts melt. I know he loves me but I’ve never seen a man look quite so happy & filled with love in all of my life. I told you last week diary about this, it’s now a secret for you me & Marcus.

Then we went home & had decided this year to not go out for fancy dinner for our anniversary but to go to the new cinema down the road. They do dinner before hand, simple food & you eat & drink in your seats & then once the food is cleared away the first half of the film starts & then at the interval you get desert & snack & then you watch the second half. All classic films. As we do both love movies we thought this would be a cool way to spend our evening.

Marcus salivated over every mouthful of his burger & chips. I sat there eating my macaroni cheese with bacon. He used that large thumb to get the mess off my face as it dripped.

“Always making a mess my love ”

“I just like you taking care of me” I replied as I sipped my drink. His beer is almost empty, but we were topped up as our food was cleared. We had the best seat in the cinema

3 rows from the back in a little sofa bang splat in the middle. Room for me to scooch up into the sofa once I had taken my shoes off & rest my head in Marcus shoulder as the film started.

“I’m guessing you’re comfortable baby” he said as he moved the stray hair off my face.

“More than comfortable” I giggle, my hand stroking his thigh as the Shawshank redemption started. The way he held me as we watched. Other than the noise in the screen I could hear his heart beat softly thudding. Each touch from his hand stroking down my bare arms was magical. Like we were just starting to date all over again. This was my perfect moment nothing could beat this. When the interval did come we decided on no deserts just extra popcorn for us both, always a spare bucket so we can mix our sweet & salted.

The film was fantastic, I mean it’s Shawshank, when isn’t it. We then got into a taxi & he peppered my neck with kisses.

“Only you, my Angel, only you” he moaned into my ear.

“Oooh Marcus”

We got back home & went straight to bed. Marcus delicately taking off every item of my clothing, humming before his mouth latched on to my nipple. My body still trembles for him, & as he laid me down & slowly edged his way inside me as I gasp his eyes softened.

“This is the most perfect moment of my life baby” Marcus said as he started to find his rhythm. He was extra slow patient & seductive tonight. “I never want things to change”

“They won’t Marcus, I love you too much to even want to think about anything else”

“Me & you forever”

“No, even longer”

I don’t know what time it was we fell asleep, but the sweat on his chest tasted good as I snuggled into him. He might have been calm & slow but that just meant more pleasure from my man.

Oooh diary, I wonder if this time next year if Marcus & I will celebrate our anniversary in the same magical way. Only time will tell.

October

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed v, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of jungkook x reader – est. poly relationship

summary: BTS have had a long, busy day. Heck, a busy week, preparing for 2021 Grammys performance and interviews. It’s finally over, and all Min Yoongi wants is to take a shower and sleep with his favorite person. There’s no one like you. He deserves some special treatment – some belated birthday wishes granted perhaps?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; domestic shower care (aww) and shower sex (hell yeah); feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, handjob / blowjob (with tongue technology), f-receiving oral, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; occurs the night of the 2021 Grammys

part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: MYG asks JJK to fuck you, again, let’s keep this going, oop JK dyed his hair blue; based on real time.

–

"I'm sorry you didn't win."

"It's okay. It was a long shot anyway."

"Well, you are good at basketball, so you can make a long shot, easy."

A deep, raspy chuckle. "Next time."

Water drummed against the tile, the rhythm interrupted by you working shampoo through black hair, conjuring fistfuls of lathered white clouds. The head lifted a little and you were about to chastise him, but one look into those black-brown eyes and small sheepish smile looking down at you, and you forgot what you were going to say. 

"It was never about us anyway. We wanted to win so ARMY could brag about us."

You grinned, chuckling a little. "They always brag about you, Yoongi."

You saw something flit across his face, but he didn't say anything. You already knew. I wish you could brag about me. And you did, but not in the way he wanted, because he was Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, Agust D sometimes, and your secret all of the time. You closed the distance, a simple, sweet kiss in response to his wordless wish, I know, me too, hands curling in his soapy hair, smiling gently against his lips. Hm. You could feel Yoongi was thoroughly enjoying your wet breasts against his chest. 

Something hard was poking you quite insistently.

You drew back a little and Yoongi's hands circled your waist, keeping your hips to him.

"Thought you said you were sleepy?" you teased.

Yoongi grinned slyly. "I changed my mind."

You chuckled, tipping his head back to rinse his hair off, forcing him to close his eyes with a displeased grunt. You could tell from his dark circles that he was tired from the stress of the day, having to wake up at two in the morning and be ready for his call time at five, but he still insisted for you to come, still insisted for you to sneak around and be here when he came home. You didn't get to see Yoongi on his birthday and not during the weekend before either. He was too busy filming content and preparing for the Grammys.

You did send him a voice message of you singing happy birthday and he replied with, thank you, my love, instead of the usual, you would benefit from a vocal coach, which meant he missed you far too much to tease you. 

You carefully straightened his neck and Yoongi breathed out, raising a hand to push his black hair away from his face, slicking it back and exposing his forehead. 

Oof.

Sexy. 

Yoongi's eyes opened, dark brown orbs reflecting the mischief in his smirk. 

"You sure you don't want me to call the maknae?" he asked not-so-innocently. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew what he was doing. 

Your boyfriend had posted a selfie this morning, only to be followed up by Jeon Jungkook’s adorable pose in a colorful fluffy flannel shirt on Weverse. Earlier in the week, Jungkook had cutely invaded and sang happy birthday on Yoongi’s celebratory live, and then put up a picture of himself on his post for said hyung’s birthday.

The absolute gall of the Golden Maknae. 

Needless to say, you were disappointed, but not surprised. Only slightly though. Jungkook was like that. A little bit – alright, a lot – of a naughty little shit that needed his cock brutally choked by your throat or pussy every once in a while. Actually, no, definitely both, just to be on the safe side. But this day was not that day.

"You said you wanted to be selfish today," was your calm response to Yoongi's question, reaching behind him to rinse off your hands, pressing your tits into his chest. Your eyes flickered up to his. Yoongi raised an eyebrow as your fingers trailed on his back, drawing small patterns. 

"Has he been a bad boy?" he chuckled, referring to, of course, the shameless audacity of your other boyfriend, well-loved and doted-on Jeon Jungkook. 

Your expression matched his, inquiring but already knowing the answer. A silent conversation between kindred souls that followed the same thought process. Closer, water gliding between your bodies, lips fitting against his, lightly nipping at his lower lip as if to say, we're both a little mean, Yoongi chuckling in agreement as he captured your lips forcefully. Hands all over wet bodies, pressing him to you and him reciprocating, hot water seeming hotter, steam getting steamier, kisses passionate and intense, Yoongi pushing you into the shower wall, not letting you get away.

Jungkook had known you were coming, but he wasn't allowed to attend this time. 

He said he was tired from the events of today and he wanted you to spend time with Yoongi alone because it had been Yoongi's birthday recently and they should definitely get special treatment during their birthdays, right?

"I want special treatment on my birthday, so I suppose hyung should as well..." 

"Ah, that's too bad, I was looking forward to punishing you."

"Noona...!" You could hear the shy pout in Jungkook's voice as it lowered, whispering into his phone. "Don't say stuff like that..."

You heard a sneaky cat-like purr in the background. "Say what?"

Jungkook started and you heard the violent rattle of the phone falling, followed by scrambles to retrieve it. Ah. You could see now why Jungkook's phone was taped.

"Hyung! Don’t... I thought you were still in the bathroom..."

"Mmm." You knew that what that hum meant. You've been on the phone for a while. And Jungkook had, lamenting that he wished they could have won the award and had a celebration live with ARMY and you had to reassure him over and over that there would be more chances and ARMY was already very proud with the nomination, yourself included. 

"Uh... do you want to talk to hyung? He's here..." Jungkook did not sound like he wanted to give his phone up. He was only asking out of politeness.

"No, Jungkook, I'll see him in a bit."

"She said no, huh?" Yoongi mused and then you heard the sounds of footsteps wandering away. 

Jungkook made a questioning noise, but you reoriented him rather quickly. 

"I want to hear your voice some more, Jungkook." You recalled the opening of the Grammys 'Dynamite' performance and his teasing, cocky nose scrunch. "Was feeling rather sexy during the recording, weren't you?"

"You saw?" An edge of excitement to his tone. "That was for you, noona," he added playfully. 

"No, it wasn't."

His faint, wicked snicker. "Okay, you're right, but I did think about you while doing it."

"Mmmhmm. What part of me? My smiling face or my warm mouth wrapped around your cock?"

"Noona!"

Alright, you did end up giving Jungkook a little bit of punishment, because neither you nor himself could help it. And at the very end, he played along, whining for you because he knew you wanted him to. Fuck, he was getting clever now, remembering all the things you liked. Stupid sexy Jungkook and his duality.

"Can't I come too? Please, noona?"

It took a lot of refuse his cute voice, but you did make a promise to Yoongi and you never broke your promises.

"Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

Reliving your memory was abruptly interrupted by two fingers sliding into your pussy.

"Excuse you," you muttered into Yoongi's lips. 

"What are you thinking about that's gotten you so wet, hm?" he drawled, dripping water down your cheeks and chest, kissing from your lips and up your jaw, slowly working his fingers in and out, your wetness thicker, warmer than the water, leaking down his knuckles. His voice in your ear, low and dangerous, making you fall for him more and more. "Thinking about me or the maknae?"

...

Min Yoongi knew you too well.

"T-That's..."

Couldn't think of a smart comeback, not with Yoongi's voice so sensual and invasive, staring up at the hazy ceiling while he sucked on your ear, biting your lip to stifle your moans, nerves lighting with shivering arousal. His fingers controlled, measured, focused on deeply penetrating you to graze your favorite spots, rubbing your walls and pressing his thumb into your clit, slow circles causing throbs of pleasure to glide through you. Yoongi knew all the places that made you weak, licking right under your ear to make you whimper for him, kissing and sucking up and down the curve. The warm water created a steady hum, background music for his dirty words. 

"Is that why Jungkookie ran so fast to the bathroom earlier today, hm? Mmm, you shouldn't mess with him so much. You should know better as his noona," Yoongi murmured softly, speeding up, catching your earlobe with his teeth and tugging on it, words slightly muffled as he continued, waves of heat flaring upwards with every thrust. "He'll keep teasing you, pretending it's for ARMY, and then when he has you next, he'll make you beg for his cock…" Teeth biting down, leaving a visible mark, his gravelly whisper sparking inhibitions. 

"And I'm going to watch you."

Fuck you, Min Yoongi, for always knowing the right thing to say.

Yoongi flicked your clit and you cried out, bucking into his hand, almost losing balance, but his left arm came up behind the small of your back and held you in place, strong and unyielding, orgasm cut short with your sudden worry of straining his recovery, but Yoongi already knew, cooing comfortingly in your inflamed ear. 

"I was dancing during the recording, remember?"

Right, he was cleared to dance, but still...

And again, Yoongi led you back into the proper headspace, kissing and nipping down your neck, tongue against your collarbones, stroking your side with his left hand as his right pushed in and out of you, building the pace and your needy gasps once more. 

"Shh, you're a good girl, don't move and nothing bad will happen."

A tinge of menace in his voice, indicating the double meaning, I won't get hurt and maybe you won't get punished. Only a maybe though, sending a delighted spark up your spine, pressing your shoulder blades into the shower wall, instinctively raising one of your legs to give Yoongi more space. You glanced down, but he wasn't looking at you, eyes calmly closed, soaked black strands sticking to his forehead as his pink lips wrapped around one of your nipples. Instant pleasure from his expert tongue, teasing the moans of his name out of you, praising him, fuck yes, Yoongi, so good, I love this, fingers filling you repeatedly, thumb knuckle grinding onto your clit, sucking on your hard nipple. You were so focused on the feeling that your torso froze up, head and hands pressed into the wall, back arcing as you came, pulses of ecstasy enveloping you, but Yoongi didn't stop, forcing another finger inside your tight hole, whines in your throat as your shuddering pussy sucked it in, still riding waves of aftershocks.

His left hand slid up and pinched your ignored nipple. 

"Yoongi, fuck...!"

You could only curse the gods that created the genius that was Min Yoongi, chuckling as he rubbed your left nipple, sucked on the right, thumb knuckle on your clit, three fingers fully stuffed inside you, so hard and so fast that his forearm was nearly vibrating. Too coordinated, too rough, too much, mind going blank, already orgasming, and again, and again, not stopping.

He was too good. 

Yoongi wasn’t going to stop until you made him. 

Your eyes rolled back, rocketing bolts of pleasure overtaking everything, entire body shaking and quivering with overstimulation, your own knuckles white because your fingers somehow curled into fists, moans rattling your chest as wave after wave of pleasure attacked you, pushing you to the brink of collapse.

"Y-Yoongi, oh, fuuuuuuuk, Yoongi!"

Your body made the executive decision for you, left hand shooting down and grabbing his forearm, gripping it tightly, gasping for air, making sure to keep his long fingers buried all the way inside, his hard muscle flexing under your palm. Fuck, so hot. Yoongi immediately stopped, detaching his mouth from your nipple, and you could barely protest, tremors thundering through your torso as your pussy spasmed and soaked his fingers with your sweet-sour juices, your inner muscles rapidly clenching and unclenching around him, his low moans filling your ears as he felt each strong pulse, stretching his fingers against your convulsing walls to amplify your pleasure and feel it all.

"Fuck..." Yoongi panted, leaning against you and your heaving chest. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you're wrecked." 

His lips on your temple, kissing you fiercely, grinding his crotch into your hip and revealing how hard he was as you tried to come down, tried to calm your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You turned your head to face him and he was there, devouring your lips with rough kisses, pulling his fingers out to tug and pinch at your nipples with his knuckles, smirking at your submissive whines, your hands wandering down and gripping his length, leisurely stroking him.

Now Yoongi was the one gasping into your mouth, switching to rubbing your hard sensitive nipples to coax you to do more, switching your positions in the shower so his back was to the water. The two of you were only half-finished washing up, but neither of you seemed to notice or care.

You backed up a little, breaking the kiss, seeing Yoongi’s dazed expression as you lightly cupped the head of his cock in your palm, gently rolling into the slickness, continuing for several seconds before adding a little more pressure. He inhaled sharply, pleading for more with his breathing alone. His chin was slightly tilted upwards, black hair sticking to his forehead, pink lips slightly parted, water trickling in rivets down his neck and chest.

Yoongi noticed you staring and gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk.

Who taught Jeon Jungkook how to be hot as hell?

It had to have been Min Yoongi.

You mentally took note of this image of wet Yoongi so you could masturbate to it later.

He cocked a brow and you cocked one back, challenging him. Then you dropped to your knees, careful with the slippery floor, and yanked his hips to your face so he blocked all of the water with his body. His stiff length smacked you in the lips and smeared pre-cum on them. You heard Yoongi gasp and you looked up, seeing him watching you, expectation and hunger in his dark eyes.

You smirked, tongue snaking out and licking your lips to taste him.

“Is my good girl going to do all my favorite things?” he drawled in his extra-low octave.

Your pussy throbbed at his domineering tone. You didn’t have to say anything, your scorching gaze alone creating that amused smirk on Yoongi’s lips. I know what you want. One hand holding up his cock, leaning forward, and Yoongi groaned in satisfaction, your mouth sucking in one of his balls, your deft tongue circling the other in loud, messy slurps, suffocating one while licking the other. You flicked your wrist back and forth, pumping his cock as you worked his balls, lips tight and pulling slightly, tongue flexed and slapping against the other.

You looked up at Yoongi’s dilated pupils, knowing that he could see flashes of your pink tongue against his balls, your hand stroking him slowly and deliberately.

“You’re so good, fuck… So fucking good at that,” Yoongi panted. “Every other man in the world is jealous that they’re never going to get to experience this.”

You popped your mouth off, making him hiss with pleasure. “That’s not true. I’ll give it to Jungkookie eventually.”

“Ah, he’s lucky that I picked him.”

You raised your eyebrows, you picked him, uh huh, I was the one stalking him on Twitter, and Yoongi nudged you with his hips, eyes narrowing dangerously, put my balls in your fucking mouth, and you obeyed, switching to his right side and sucking it into your plush lips, tongue snaking out to lap at his left one, now pumping him with your dominant right hand. He sucked in a breath, moaning softly, clenching his jaw as you increased to his favorite pressure and speed.

“Fuck, yes, make me cum just like this,” he snarled, as much a plea as it was an order, rocking his hips a little so he tugged on his balls in your mouth, forcing you to suck harder and lick more roughly to keep him in place, obscene slurps adding another layer to the song that was the falling water, Yoongi’s moans, and the rapid slap-slap-slap of your hand furiously jacking off his twitching hardness. You glanced up at him and he was observing you closely, drinking in every second of your mouth, hand, and spread-open thighs as you kneeled for him, water dripping off your nipples and ass, groaning your name, tone saturated with lust.

“Ah, fuck, I love you so much, you look so fucking good like this…”

You could tell he was getting close with how shallow his breathing was becoming. Tighter, harder, so devoted to the cause that you were whimpering to add vibration to the multiple sensations, drunk on the taste of his skin and the scent of his pre-cum right next to your head, needing it, wanting it, right now, your eyes telling him, please Yoongi, cum for me, want you to cum for me so bad, and he bit his lip, tense growl contained in his throat that morphed into a drawn-out wail.

“Fuck, now, fuck!”

You abruptly pulled off his balls and Yoongi gasped, startled and confused as you quickly repositioned yourself so he shot thick strings onto your mouth, painting your red swollen lips with drizzles of white, up your cheek and onto your nose, dark eyes wide as he witnessed his indecent mark on you. Like something out of a literal porno, your lips coated with glossy lines of his semen. You looked up at him, still holding his cock, sinfully triumphant.

Your devious smirk covered in cum.

“You wicked, dirty woman,” Yoongi breathed in amazement.

His hand was travelling down so you removed yours, already guessing what was coming next. You placed your hands on your thighs, sinking into the softness as Yoongi groaned, wrapping his fingers around his cock, pumping himself slowly to the image of your cum-covered puffy lips, red and white, upper body tilted back so your hard nipples pointed upwards towards him, squeezing your breasts together with your arms while your hands kept your thighs spread, wet pussy exposed to him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, so hard you could see the flashes of veins standing out through his fingers. “You’re too much, too sexy, come closer so I can use that mouth.”

You scooted nearer and Yoongi pushed his cock into your lips, moaning as he watched his orgasm smear down his length and disappear with each centimeter his cock into your tight, hot mouth, your eyes taking in the jerks of his shoulders and slack jaw, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. He was so turned on that you knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted, but there was no stopping him now, already shallowly thrusting. You knew how to make him pause though, tightly tensing your throat muscles around the tip. Yoongi threw his head back, your name a desperate whine.

“Please, shit, I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck…”

Slowly Yoongi’s head rolled back and you took the chance to slide your tongue out, hands coming up to cup his balls, licking them in playful figure-eights with his entire length crammed down your throat, barely able to breathe.

You didn’t care.

Yoongi was in literal heaven.

Swearing, gasping, moaning, enjoying it for a good twenty seconds before fitting his right hand behind your head, tangled in your wet hair.

“Hold me,” he gritted out. “Hold me so I can fuck your face.”

You backed up a little to take a deep lungful of air, placing your hands on his hips. There was so much adrenaline coursing through your veins that you didn’t even notice that your knees were screaming in pain, completely focused on getting your throat ready for Yoongi’s abuse.

Your eyes flickered up to him, giving him the signal.

Yoongi grinned and began to thrust into your mouth. You adjusted your neck a little and Yoongi hissed, the throbbing head of his cock now rubbing against the roof of your mouth with every slide down your throat, rolling his hips into your face. You could tell he wanted to keep it slow, but his body craved the speed and he finally gave in, fucking your face mercilessly, fast and rough, nearly choking you but not quite, and that was the best part, Yoongi always knowing the edge, always knowing how much you could take, chuckling darkly as your moaned around his cock, trying not to dig your nails into his skin.

“It’s okay, do it,” Yoongi nudged, devilish edge to his voice. “Do it. No one is going to look there.”

Eye contact.

You sure?

He ticked a brow.

How many people were going to look at his ass? Eh, he was right.

You sank your nails into his hips and dragged them down, creating red scratches around his crotch.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped with your name, urging you for more, you clawing at his ass as he forced himself between your tight lips, marking him up, praying no one was going to ask why his ass looked like a cat’s scratching post, but it was doomed, your cries vibrating his cock, Yoongi losing control, lustful shudder as his cock jolted in your mouth, spilling down your throat. You swallowed greedily, puffing breath around his thick length, sucking a little so you could feel every quiver, his taste strong and salty, so delicious that your pussy pulsated with satisfaction even through it wasn’t being stimulated.

You felt Yoongi caress your wet hair, soft praises floating down to your ears. You licked him delicately, ghosting your tongue around and around the head. He shivered, exhaling hard.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well…”

You felt his cock soften. You did what any sensible human would do and took him all the way in your mouth to bounce his balls with your tongue.

Yoongi chuckled.

“You’re crazy.”

You gave him your gurgled response with his dick still down your throat.

“You’re right, I do love it.” He tapped your cheek. “But the water’s getting cold, so let’s finish this shower and get into bed.”

-

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to my ripped panties?”

“From last time? Don’t know. Jungkook had them in his pocket.”

You frowned, working product through your wet hair. “I hope he threw them away safely.”

Yoongi looked thoughtful. “Ah, is that what he snuck over to Jimin’s room for?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “It would be a good cover.”

You gawked at him.

Yoongi didn’t elaborate, going back to daintily and dutifully applying his skincare.

-

Get into bed.

This wasn’t exactly what you thought Yoongi meant, but you weren’t mad at it.

“Fuck, that’s so insanely hot…”

You were kneeling on the bed, chin on the pillows, knees spread, hands on your ass cheeks to spread your pussy open so your boyfriend Min Yoongi could watch you flex your wet opening.

At least he gave you time to blow-dry your hair before ordering you around.

For the moment, you were staring at the headboard, keenly concentrating on the exact precision and force needed to open and close with varying degrees. Most of the time, there was no need to be this focused, but Yoongi had asked for a show, so you were going to give him one. You could hear him slowly stroking himself, panting with exertion and awe. The bed sank a little as his weight was added, coming up behind you. Anticipation zipped through your veins, heartbeat spiking.

“A-ah!”

You felt a cold, fine spray on your ass and back. The fuck? Then the scent hit you, sudden citrus mixed with a verdant musk and the base of pine wood. On your skin, it immediately morphed, turning warmer, almost smokier, different than how it smelled on Yoongi. You twisted your head around, giving Yoongi’s smirking face a startled look.

“Did you just spray me with your cologne?”

He tucked his tongue between his neat white teeth. “No.” Which obviously meant yes.

You narrowed your eyes. “You shouldn’t do that. Someone might figure it out.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow underneath his fluffy black bangs. “I’m sure many people buy and wear my cologne, including women. Can’t keep anything a secret these days.”

There was a twinge of arrogance and wistfulness in his deep voice, but before you could break it down and ask, what about me, Yoongi leaned in and shoved his tongue into your pussy.

“F-fuck, Yoongi!”

His satisfied groan trembled through your nerves, igniting arousal and causing you to clench around his tongue involuntarily. He didn’t have to say it, both of you already thinking it, keep going, but now you were gasping, getting wetter and wetter with the addition of Yoongi’s tongue lazily sliding up and down as your muscles contracted and relaxed, letting him feel your skill and power, his moans vibrating through you from your core. It was already slick and getting slicker, Yoongi’s tongue gracefully sliding through your folds, thrusting into your hole, your juices like honey seeping onto his greedy mouth, so fucking good you didn’t need to control it anymore, it was just happening, and it took everything in you not to shove your ass into his face even though you wanted to, because you didn’t want to make any sudden movements and accidentally hurt him when he had already worked so hard today.

Yoongi chuckled.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, knowing he could see the strain in your arms and the tremble of your hips trying to keep your position as he sucked on your clit.

He removed his mouth and you grumbled in disappointment, cutting yourself off when you heard the distinct rip of a foil packet.

“No, fuck you.”

Yoongi said it as if he was telling someone the time and not about to forcefully plunge his dick right into where his mouth was a second ago.

“Ah, fuck yes, Yoongi…”

He sank right in, stretching you out deliciously, sighing as your wet walls molded around his cock, familiar and wonderful. You finally had the chance to remove your hands from your ass so you could hold yourself up, relieving some of the pressure on your poor knees.

“I’m choosing to ignore your disrespect,” Yoongi purred, placing his hands on your hips and bottoming out, his balls smacking your engorged clit roughly, earning a low hiss from your throat. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, breathing hard as your body adjusted. He was asking you how you wanted it. You clicked your tongue and turned your head back, seeing him watching you closely under his black hair shadowing his dark brown eyes.

“What a nice guy,” you remarked in a cool, defiant tone, borderline bored.

Come on, Yoongi, mess me up.

His lips curved into that devious, open-mouthed smirk you loved so much.

“Mhm.”

He slid out and slapped his crotch into your ass, hard.

“Yes, Yoongi, fuck!”

Your nails sank into your palms and you shoved your fists into the sheets, locking your upper body so you could push back into his rough thrusts, pleased grin on your lips, his perfect cock filling you over and over again, core tensed tight to feel all of him, the thick head forcing its way deep inside slick velvet, the rock-hard length twitching against each ridge, his balls bouncing against your inflamed clit, so full, so good, so intense that it almost hurt.

It wasn’t enough.

Panting hard, chest shuddering, you reached up and planted a hand flat against the headboard and clenched your jaw, bucking back into Yoongi’s crotch. His voice was mind-numbingly deep, full of desire and danger.

“Harder it is, my love.”

You smirked, then gasped as you felt the hot sting of Yoongi’s palm on your ass, the sound reverting against the apartment walls. He didn’t stop, fucking you hard into the bed and slapping your ass as you kept up with his pace, doing half the work for him so he could focus on each sharp spank to make your ass bounce on his cock, the bed screaming for you two to stop, but neither of you noticed, completely focused on chasing wild, feral pleasure, Yoongi growling your name and you moaning at his carnal tone, soaking his skin with thick, sweet-smelling juices, pussy violently massaging his length.

“That’s it,” Yoongi hissed, breathing rapid and shallow, ceasing his slapping of your red ass to seize your hips and fuck you even harder, digging his nails into your skin and marking you with his lust. “Feels so good fucking this perfect body just the way I like.”

Fuck, his voice, taking your heart and setting your world into lustful wildfire, no one like him, nothing like this, making you lose your mind and fuck back against him harder, the roller coaster climbing higher and higher and higher, Yoongi cursing under his breath, and you were so far gone that you almost didn’t pick up his words.

“Shit, Jungkookie would have loved watching you get wrecked by me.”

A low moan ripped from your throat, the thought of Jungkook’s needy voice and expression seeing you get pounded by Yoongi’s full strength, being told to watch and probably not being able to help touching himself, fuck, you wanted it, wanted Jungkook so bad at that very moment, wanted to show him how ruined you were, knowing he would love it, crave it, desire it, fuck, it was too much and you came hard, seeing stars, planets, fuck it, the whole fucking galaxy, fingernails curling into the headboard and whining at the sensitivity, body rolling onto Yoongi’s cock and squeezing it powerfully. Yoongi gasped out your name, grip tightening as he spilled into the condom, his length pulsating and twitching into your walls. You thought that was it, but Yoongi’s fingers snaked down between your legs.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck!”

He roughly rubbed your aching clit with two fingers, forcing you to cum again around his cock, moaning loudly with every convulsion of your overstimulated pussy, viscous juices clinging to the insides of your joined thighs, completely defeating the purpose of the fucking shower, but neither of you seemed to remember that, Yoongi too busy using his last ounce of strength to push you to your limit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and vibrating his fingertips against it, your eyes rolling back and spine clattering as another orgasm blasted through you, up your torso and straight to your head, numbing pleasure overtaking everything, arm going slack and forgetting to hold yourself up, hand slipping on the headboard, fatigue finally having its way.

Yoongi was quick to slide his hand up your belly and keep you up, wiry strength of his right arm balancing between your breasts to prevent you from falling into the bed.

“Holy f-fuck…”

The words sounded far away even though they were yours, the resounding beat in your ears being your pulse trying to catch up, nerves tingling all over, acutely aware of the tiny flinches gliding across your skin, aftershocks of a particularly explosive orgasm. Your pussy was still throbbing around Yoongi’s spent cock, locking him in your embrace. You planted your hands onto the bed and lifted yourself up rather shakily, taking the burden off Yoongi’s arm.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, caressing the underside of your breast lightly.

You had the energy to raise one hand and give him a thumbs-up.

He rapped your ribcage. “Stop that.”

You chuckled, finding your voice a bit hoarse. “Why? You always do it in pictures.”

You heard Yoongi mumble disapprovingly behind you. “Is that why you do that? To make fun of me when I take photos?”

“Almost eight years of being an idol and you still don’t know what to do with your hands in pictures,” you teased.

He pinched your nipples roughly and you yelped.

“I know what to do with my hands around you,” Yoongi growled, rubbing them between his fingertips, your moans radiating off his walls. “And that’s what matters.”

-

interlude 20210419 drabble — “This is not allowed, you two.”

part vi “Shh, you’re not allowed to tell anyone.”

--

masterpost

[harrysweasleys]

save a life // d.m

Summary: You know what I always thought would be so cute if the reader is a Weasley and dating Draco in secret and he gives her an amulet and if the person wearing it gets hurt instead of dying it turns into a sleeping spell and during the Battle of Hogwarts she saves Fred and ends up on the floor instead and Draco rushes over and just loses it and then he sees that you're still wearing necklace and kisses you and it's angsty but with a happy ending sorry I'm a sucker things like these

Warnings: violence, language, blood

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: so i changed up the request a tad, sorry about that, but nonetheless it’s pretty much what the request wanted! my requests are still open but i’ve got a long list to get through so sorry for the wait. xxx (gif not mine)

-

“Draco, I can’t accept this, it’s far too expensive,” Y/N’s mouth was agape as she stared down at the necklace in the little black velvet box. The charm on the end, which Y/N immediately recognized as a Protective Amulet — which they had studied in DADA — was glistening brightly, showing off its worth.

“No, it wasn’t,” Draco replied, placing his hand on hers before gently kissing her knuckles, “Besides, this can save your life, therefore it’s priceless.”

She looked up at him, still stunned speechless. She knew that Protective Amulets were rare, nearly impossible to find as they were in such high demand at this time of crisis, and she had never in a million years expected to receive one.

“What about you? You need to be protected too,” Y/N raised an eyebrow, closing up the box and placing it in her pocket, keeping it safe and away from the prying eyes of passing students. Her and Draco, although public with their relationship, tried their best to keep it as private as possible. She hated the attention they always got for being together.

“Don’t worry about me,” he brushed her off, “You know I’m in a very different position than you are.” He tapped his left forearm as a reminder that he was, in fact, fighting a very different battle than she was. When he showed Y/N the Dark Mark for the first time, they had spent the entire night crying, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

She knew it was coming. Hell, anyone who knew about Draco’s situation knew it was coming. But it didn’t change the shock and heartbreak that Y/N felt looking down at the dark ink permanently etched into the pale skin of her boyfriend. She hated looking at it. It was a reminder that Draco had no control over his life, that his entire legacy was built for him, that this was the reason he didn’t sleep nights. He was just as terrified as she was.

“You’re still dealing with You Know Who,” she pressed on, tossing a strand of her ginger hair out of her face, “If anything, you’d need even more protection. You know I always worry about you, I hate not knowing if you’re okay.”

“Love, it’s okay,” he smiled softly, sadly even, placing a hand on her shoulder and gazing into her brown eyes, “Don’t you worry about me. I can handle my end of the fight.”

Y/N squinted her eyes at him, ready to keep pressing the subject, but decided against it, “Fine. Thank you, though. It’s beautiful.” It truly was beautiful. The red gem in the centre caught her attention right away, the way that it almost seemed to glow under the bright lights.

“I’m glad you like it,” Draco said softly, placing a light kiss on her forehead and interlacing his hand with hers, “Now, should we get a move on to dinner so we can make it in time for pudding?”

Y/N grinned, placing a light kiss to his lips — which he gladly reciprocated — before the two of them made their way into the Great Hall. Draco waved ‘bye’ before making his way over to the Slytherin table, and Y/N made her way over to the Gryffindor one, sitting between her siblings.

“What’d he give you?” Ginny asked, peering over to her sister with a pressing look on her face. She had clearly watched the encounter between the two of them outside the Great Hall, making Y/N’s cheeks flush a light pink.

“A necklace,” Y/N grinned shyly, helping herself to come potatoes, “Protective Amulet, actually.”

“A what?” Ron’s mouth was agape, “Where the bloody hell did he manage to find one of those?”

Y/N shrugged, placing her fork down and taking the little box out of her pocket, making sure no one else was looking, and opened it up. Ginny and Ron looked awestruck, while Fred and George seemed to be too busy paying attention to their food to notice the commotion. Y/N placed the necklace proudly around her neck, letting the Amulet dangle between her collarbones.

“Damn,” Ginny nodded approvingly, “That little squirt has some good taste.”

Y/N giggled, admiring the way the candle light reflected off of the gems. She wasn’t one for fancy jewellery, having even told Draco not to buy her any once they started dating, but this felt like more than a show-off gesture. Him giving her something that would save her life felt like the biggest gesture he could possibly give her, one that really showed how much he cared.

When they started dating about a year ago, it was as if a fire had spread throughout both of their lives. Y/N’s family — her father in particular — were in no means ‘fans’ of the Malfoy family. In fact, although Arthur Weasley denies it, his dislike towards Lucius Malfoy grows exponentially by the day. And Draco’s family on the other hand loved to call Y/N and her family ‘blood traitors’ and ‘disgraces’ as well as making sure the fact that they were poor was very much a topic of conversation.

Both their parents were still iffy about the entire concept of their kids being together, but Y/N’s siblings had learned to accept it, much to her gratitude. Ron took longer than the rest, having dealt with Draco’s bullying first hand for five years now, but he eventually came around as long as they didn’t ‘flaunt their love’ in front of him on a daily basis.

“I reckon he didn’t get one for the rest of us, then?” Ron asked, glaring at Draco on the opposite end of the Great Hall while picking at the chicken legs on his plate.

“If you were his girlfriend I’m sure he would, Ronald,” Ginny replied, chuckling at her brother’s reaction. Y/N laughed as well, her hand still playing with the jewel around her neck as the dinner plates vanished, filling the table with multiple assortments of puddings.

“Always the best part,” Ron shoved his fork in, filling his plate to the brim.

Y/N looked over to the Slytherin table, catching Draco’s eye, and smiled widely at him, pointing to the necklace she was now wearing. He smirked at her, winking and shooting a thumbs up, going unnoticed by everyone else, but causing her entire body to flutter.

— —

“What do you think life will be like after the war?” Y/N was twirling a strand of Draco’s hair, overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts as the two of them sat comfortably in the fresh air of the Astronomy tower. They had used this location for most of their private moments, using it to talk about anything and everything. And of course, it was a good makeout spot.

“Peaceful, I hope,” he replied, gazing up at her quickly before turning back to watch the setting sun. Their sixth year hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. Voldemort had returned, Dumbledore was missing constantly, and with Snape as the new Defence professor, Y/N Weasley was worried their education wasn’t preparing them well enough for their eventual battle.

“Do you think we’ll win?” she asked, pulling her hand away from his hair and turning to face him with a more serious expression, “By ‘we’ I mean anti-Voldemort people. You know, the good guys.”

Draco, although his parents were forcing him to join the ‘dark side’, was still secretly fighting alongside Y/N. She had helped him overcome the urges that came with his newfound Dark Mark, and promised him she’d stick by his side no matter what. He was prepared to leave the Dark Lord’s orders if it meant keeping her safe.

“I do,” he said softly, sitting up, “I think that once the war happens, we’ll be prepared enough to take him down.”

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her hair out of her face, “Dad says he thinks it’ll happen soon. Everyone at the Ministry is in a frenzy. And Fred and George are basically the only open shop in Diagon Alley, no one wants to go out anymore. The entire Wizarding world is in a panic.”

Draco sighed, gently placing a hand on her cheek, his other hand twirling the Amulet necklace she was wearing, “Love, I can’t promise everything will end up being the way it was before, but no matter what happens, I am not leaving your side. And as long as you wear that—,” he pointed to her Amulet, “—you’ll be by mine as well. And that’s all I want. You.”

“I love you,” she grinned, pulling him in for a tender kiss, “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

“Of course, my love.”

— —

The war had come.

As another wall came crumbling down mere meters from her, Y/N dodged out of the way, her wand still gripped tightly in her hand.

She had been preparing for this for two years now, ever since Harry had emerged from the Triwizard Maze with Cedric’s lifeless body. They had prepared for this when Dumbledore’s Army came to life, all of them training constantly to fight back against the dark forces that were bound to come.

But, as Y/N gazed around the crumbling Hogwarts, watching some of her friends die before her very eyes, she realized that nothing could have really prepared her for this.

“Petrificus Totalus!” she shouted, the Death Eater that was standing in front of her now tumbling down the staircase as stiff as a board. She watched him fall for a long while before deciding to take off down another hallway, gliding against the wall to avoid being seen. She had intelligently decide to wear all black clothing to believe she’d be well hidden, but completely ignored the fact that her bright red hair gave her away instantly. It wasn’t her best moment.

“Y/N!” Hermione and Harry came barreling around the corner, frightening her nearly half to death, followed by Ron, Percy and Fred shortly after.

“Oh, thank Merlin, it’s you guys,” she hugged her brothers quickly, noticing the deep cut on Ron’s cheek and the blood coming from Percy’s hairline. She herself had a few deep scrapes and bruises as well, the blood smeared across her face and hands. Some of it hers, some of it not.

“Why are you all alone?” Harry asked, eyes darting around the corridor with full alertness, “We should all have backup.”

“I lost Ginny after a chandelier came crashing down,” Y/N said, her voice shaky with adrenaline, “We took off in opposite directions.”

“Is she okay?” Harry’s eyes were wide, the panic evident in the way his head snapped violently towards her.

Y/N grinned softly, clutching her wand tightly, “She’s safe, Harry.” He let out a sigh of relief, nodding his head slightly.

“Snape’s dead,” his voice was quieter, almost regretful.

Y/N felt her heart drop. She was never fond of Snape — he hated her and her family to his very core — but he was still someone she had looked up to, “Oh, that’s awful. An awful way to go, in the middle of a war.”

“Where’s Malfoy?” Ron asked, looking out the window that was facing the grounds, green and red flashes blasting in countless different directions.

“I—I don’t know,” Y/N admitted. She had seen him not ten minutes ago, he had arrived with his parents looking very sunken and gloomy, but they hadn’t had a chance to speak two words to each other since the battle had begun. She was worried for his safety, but she figured no one was really after him. Students didn’t know he was a Death Eater and Narcissa would protect her son until her dying breath.

Her heart sunk thinking about him. Since the end of their sixth year, things had been weird. She didn’t blame him, he had insane pressure being thrust upon his shoulders. His parents wouldn’t let him leave their side and Y/N’s parents would let her leave the house or even send Owls. She had pretty much lost all contact with him.

After the summer holidays and after Y/N attended her older brother Bill’s wedding, she had not spoken a single word to him.

Were they even together anymore?

“He’s here, though,” she spoke up once realizing she had been silent for a while, “I saw him.”

Hermione nodded understandingly, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. Hermione, who had been falling for Ron since third year, was the only person Y/N really confided in about her relationship. She didn’t even tell Ginny much. The only reason she confided in Hermione was because she knew about her feelings towards Ron. They often had late night chats about boys and their futures — those chats were some of the best moments in Y/N’s time at Hogwarts, really.

“Look out!” Ron shouted, but it was too late. Y/N was sent flying backwards, crashing into a stone pillar, violently hitting her skull and spine. She could feel the blood oozing out of the back of her head, her eyesight becoming insanely fuzzy, but she opened her eyes in time to see Fred hex the Death Eater, who went flying out a broken window.

Y/N’s eyes started to droop again, and that’s when she noticed the Amulet sitting on the ground in a tiny pile of rubble. It was no longer on her. Panicking slightly, she cleared her throat, blinking rapidly to regain her proper vision.

“Fred—,” she croaked out to the closest person, lifting her hand to point down at it, “Can you get it for me? The Amulet?”

Fred picked it up, rushing over to help his little sister stand up. After she was on her feet, still reasonably dizzy and lightheaded, a bright green flash had flown by, blinding them all for a good moment.

“Avada Kedavra!” Y/N ducked down, her heart skipping a beat. Someone was going to die. 

Fred’s hand — that had been linked with her own — was now gone. The spell had hit him right in the middle of his chest and he was sent flying back, his body lying limp on the floor in a heap of broken stone.

Y/N thought she was going to vomit. She rushed over, letting Percy and Harry deal with the Death Eater, and picked up Fred’s head, resting it in her lap. His hair was standing on end as if he had been electrocuted, and his skin felt hot to the touch, but it didn’t stop her from attempting to shake him awake.

“Freddie?” she asked, her voice still trembling but this time due to the fact that she was holding back tears, “Freddie, please wake up.”

Ron was slumped against a wall, his eyes red and his breathing irregular as he watched Y/N try to wake up their brother. Hermione was comforting him, leaning her head against his shoulder, also trying to keep her emotions in.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes away from her dead brother, whose eyes were still open wide, a faint smile on his lips that had been there before he got his with the blinding green flash.

“Fred, please wake up,” Y/N cried softly, ignoring Percy leaning down next to her and holding Fred’s limp hand in his own. She shut her eyes, letting the tears flow freely. The feeling of loss was horrendous. She was never going to hear Fred talk, or hear another one of his stupid jokes—

“Reckon I better thank the Slytherin git.”

Y/N’s eyes shot open, looking down at Fred, whose face was now in a painful grimace. His eyes were still closed but he was breathing. His eyelids flickered open and he coughed violently, dust and bits of stone coming out of his mouth.

“Fred?” Y/N dropped his head, placing her hands over his chest to check for a heartbeat to make sure she wasn’t imagining things, and thankfully, there was one, “Fred, you’re alive...”

“Do I have Harry’s scar?” he asked, eyes opening slightly and his infamous grin making its way back onto his face as if he hadn’t just died, “On my forehead, do I have one now too?”

Y/N, too shocked to do anything, glanced up at his forehead, “No.”

“Damn,” Fred muttered, still coughing, “That’s rather unfortunate.” Y/N couldn’t believe he was still alive. But as she looked down to his hand, which was now open, she could see the bright glow of the Protective Amulet glistening brightly. Fred had it. 

“It saved him,” Ron muttered, his eyes wide as he leaned off of the wall, walking over to see his siblings, “Y/N, you had him pick it up for you and it saved him.”

Y/N was still speechless. Her own heart had regained its beat, but her head was still spinning, and the feeling of wanting to vomit was probably even stronger now than when she thought he was dead.

Fred carefully made his way to stand up assisted by Ron and Percy, while Y/N still crouched on the floor next to where he had been laying, her eyes glued to the floor in shock.

“You good, little sis?” Fred asked, sticking his hand out to help her up, “I’m the one who nearly died but you’re the one who seems to be on the verge of passing out.”

“I need to go see Malfoy,” she stood up hastily, rubbing the dirt from her hands onto her pants before pulling her brother into a bone-crushing hug, “Believe me, I’m thankful you’re alive. You have no idea. But I need to go see him.”

“What a roller coaster,” Ron ran his hand down his face, shaking his head before pulling Fred in for a hug as well, “George will have a laugh.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll find his twin brother almost dying hilarious,” Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms, “Y/N, why do you need to go see Malfoy? Isn’t he, you know, not on our side?”

Y/N shook her head vigorously, eyes wide, “He’s always been on our side. He had a weird way of showing it, but he’s never been evil,” she leaned over to pick up her wand off the floor and proceeded to place it in her inside coat pocket, “He’s been forced by his parents to become dangerous. I need to go help him.”

“But why now?” Percy asked, eyeing his little sister with what could only be seen as suspicion. Percy had been the only vocal sibling about his dislike towards Malfoy. Working alongside the Ministry for so many years now, he had heard horrible tales of Lucius Malfoy and tried to keep his youngest sister away from that family the best he could. Unsuccessfully, of course.

“Because he saved Fred, Perc,” she replied, her voice firm, “Well, indirectly, but still. He helped me. I need to go help him.”

The rest of the gang was silent, no one wanting to argue with Y/N — the fire in her eyes was burning bright and there was no way they would attempt to put it out. She was determined, and no one stops a Weasley.

“Do you want backup?” Harry asked cautiously, “Just incase his parents are around, that is.”

“No,” she shook her head once more, “I need to go alone.”

And without another word, she bolted down the nearby staircase, careful not to step on bodies and trying her best to avoid tripping on large chunks of rubble. The school that she had been practically living in for seven years looked unrecognizable. Walls were blown away, blood was smeared on the floors, unfamiliar bodies littered the corridors, and the constant flash of spells reminded her of a violent thunderstorm.

She continued rushing downstairs, luckily avoiding any encounters, and barged into the Great Hall, where she did indeed find Draco. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and his lip was quivering. He was naturally very pale, but he looked even more ghostly under the faint light and the fact that he was surrounded by at least a dozen Death Eaters.

Her heart caught in her throat as she noticed all the eyes in the room now locked on her, Draco’s as well.

“Well, well,” Bellatrix Lestrange’s cackling voice reached her ears and she could feel her fingers begin to shake as they gripped her wand even tighter, “It’s another Weasley, is it not?”

Y/N locked eyes with Draco, who seemed even more panicked now that she was in the room. He nudged his head towards the door, silently telling her to leave, but she shook her head and stood her ground.

“Bella, don’t intimidate our guest,” Lucius Malfoy’s voice reached her ears and she grimaced. He had never liked her, and she doubted he would play saint right now.

“My name’s Y/N,” she said weakly, ignoring the laughs of the Death Eaters who were thrilled by her discomfort. She only recognized a few of them, having heard from Draco who they were, but some were unfamiliar, and the uncertainty of the situation she was in was starting to settle in her chest.

Lucius chucked, running a hand through his greasy blond hair, “Yes, yes, I am familiar with you. Draco, this is your little... girlfriend... is it not?”

Draco’s eyes were wide and he shook his head, tossing his hair back and forth aggressively, “No. We broke up.”

If Y/N wasn’t already devastated, she was now. Was he being honest, or was it just to get Lucius to leave her alone? The coldness in his eyes told her that it was true, but the way he was silently pleading her to leave the room also made her believe he was just trying to keep her safe.

“Ah,” Lucius nodded his head, holding his wand and twirling it through his fingers, “Then why are you here? You’re hardly Death Eater material.”

Y/N froze on the spot, having no idea what to say. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, and her entire body trembling in both fear and adrenaline.

“Isn’t it clear?” Narcissa Malfoy emerged from behind her husband, her face fierce but her eyes showing the same uneasiness as her son, “It doesn’t matter why she’s here. It matters what we do with her.”

Lucius’ smirk widened as he faced his son, “Ah, yes. Draco, would you do the honours?”

Y/N took a step backwards, wishing she could leave but knowing there was no chance of that now. Draco’s face fell and his lip opened to speak, until he was cut off by his mother once more.

“I highly doubt we should do this here. I’ll escort Draco and Miss Weasley out, we will do this privately,” Narcissa demanded, glaring at her husband, “This is a war, but have some respect for your son, Lucius.”

Narcissa approached Y/N, who was still standing rooted to the floor, face pale and hands balled up into fists so tightly that all colour had left her hands. She knew Narcissa was more fond of her than Lucius, but she didn’t think that she would be the one to force Draco to kill her.

“Come with me,” Narcissa whispered in Y/N’s ear, grabbing her wrist and pulling her out of the room. Y/N was being pulled around so quickly she didn’t have the chance to look at Draco, who was following in tow with tearful eyes.

“In here,” Narcissa pushed Y/N into a dark classroom, pulled Draco in behind her, and shut the door forcefully. Y/N was holding back hot tears, reaching into her jacket slowly to pull out her wand, prepared to defend herself if ever she was going to be attacked by one of the two people in the room with her.

“No need for that,” Narcissa snapped quietly, “I’m not going to make Draco kill you.”

Both Y/N and Draco’s heads snapped up to face her, their expressions nearly matched.

“I’m not a horrible person,” she scoffed, “I know you two need a moment. I will stand guard outside this door.”

With a swift movement, she was outside, the door shut behind her. Y/N and Draco were alone in the room, heavy breathing being the only sound either of them could hear. It felt strange being alone with him, they hadn’t really interacted or been together in such a long time. A lot had happened, and by the looks of it, Draco wasn’t exactly doing any better.

His hands were clenched around his wand, fingers white, and his eyes glued to the floor.

“The Amulet saved Fred,” Y/N spoke up first, wiping away the tears that had threatened to spill, “I wanted to say thank you for giving it to me.”

“You could have been killed,” Draco snapped, taking a seat on top of one of the desks, running his hands through his hair and then down his face, frustration laced into his features, “You know how dangerous this lot is.”

“Yes, I do know,” Y/N replied softly despite the bubbling frustration she was feeling, “But you helped me. I needed to come try and help you.”

He shook his head, locking his eyes with hers, “I gave that to you to save you. I don’t need you to return the favour.”

Y/N had gotten used to his insane stubbornness, but she was beginning to get irritated. They were in the middle of a war, this was hardly the time to get into an argument about a necklace.

“Draco, please, let me help you,” she placed her hands on his, and thankfully, he didn’t pull away like she expected him too. His hands were hot, the feeling of his skin touching hers making her entire body relax.

“How? How can I just leave them?” his voice was no longer accusatory, but gentle and vulnerable, “I want to, believe me, but I can’t. It’s too dangerous. And they’ll know you were involved.”

Sitting next to him on the desk, Y/N wrapped her hand around his shoulders and pulled him in for a hug, not thinking twice. He relaxed against her touch, resting his head against her shoulder and letting his hands fall around her waist. It was an awkward hug, considering they were sitting down, but Y/N loved it nonetheless.

She leaned into him, running her hand through his matted hair and placing her forehead against his shoulder, “It’s going to be hard, I know, but I’ll be by your side. I just want to save you the way you saved me.”

She was extremely cautious of pressuring him too much. Draco had spent his enter life being pushed into things, ordered around. When they had started dating two years before, he was careful not to let her see too much of who he was. But when he opened up, Y/N jumped at the chance to make sure he knew she would always be there. She reminded him every second of the day that all she wanted to do was help him. Watching him become a Death Eater was the hardest thing she had ever gone through — she couldn’t imagine what it was like for him.

If she wasn’t currently giving Draco her undivided attention, she would have missed the way he nodded his head softly, mumbling a quiet ‘okay.’

“Okay, good,” she pulled away from him, flashing the best smile she could muster despite the weight on her shoulders, “Your mother is outside this door. She can help us. She can tell the others that you killed me or... performed the Cruciatus curse, no?”

“I guess she could,” Draco replied, standing off the desk and standing in front of Y/N, “She told me I could make up my own mind. And I’m doing just that.”

Y/N felt her heart swell. She hopped off the desk too, linking her hand with his. He smiled softly down at her. It didn’t reach his eyes, but she could tell he really did appreciate what she was doing for him. He had never been able to actually get help before, but now that she was standing here in front of him, he couldn’t leave her.

“Come on,” she started leading him towards the door, but as she tugged on his hand, he stayed still, “Draco, what—?”

“Are you wearing the necklace?” he asked softly, eyes scanning her neck.

“Yes,” she replied, reaching under her shirt and taking it out from where she had placed it back on while running down to the Great Hall. Despite the dark room and the tense atmosphere, the jewel still glowed brightly.

Draco looked at it, his eyes softening, and pulled Y/N to him, pressing his lips against hers like she was his life source. Their lips moulded perfectly, as if everything around them ceased to exist. The distant screams could no longer be heard, and the darkness in the room seemed comfortable.

They pulled away from each other hesitantly, both of them having new found determination in their eyes.

“I think I’m ready,” Draco presses his forehead up against hers, his hand reaching to fumble with the Amulet, rolling it between his fingers, “I love you so much. And I didn’t mean it when I said we were broken up, you know.”

“I know. And I love you just as much,” Y/N replied, placing a quick kiss on his cheek, her heart soaring, and pulled her wand out of her pocket. They laced their hands together once more, walking towards the heavy door and pulling it open, ready for what was to face them.

Narcissa, looking slightly more frazzled than before, looked between them, then down to their interlaced fingers.

“I have to go,” Draco’s face was set, all trace of vulnerability he showed in the room were now gone. Y/N squeezed his hand tighter, supporting him. He squeezed back as a silent thank you.

Narcissa nodded, “I understand. Be safe, Draco.”

Draco nodded, turning to face Y/N, and proceeded to run down the hall with her by his side. Not in the direction of the Great Hall, but towards the battle, where both of them could save the place and people they grew up with. As they reached the courtyard unscathed, Draco pulled out his wand.

“Together, yeah?” he asked, clenching his jaw and gripping the wand in his hand, his other one still linked with Y/N’s.

“Yeah, together,” Y/N replied, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles, “Let’s go win a war.”

[tricksters-captain]

Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz/Birds of Prey imagines - Pussy Cat

AN: Second Gif credit is @ewanmcgregorz​

Overall Summary: You’re Roman’s little ‘pussy cat’. From the moment he met you, you were his but when you catch Zsasz fantasising over you... Things change...

Pairing(s): Roman Sionis xReader, (some) Victor Zsasz x Reader

Word count: 2,920

Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Cheating, Strong Language, unprotected sex

“Good morning my pussy cat.” Roman announced his presence as he turned the corner from the bedroom and sauntered down the hall in his pyjamas and dressing gown. 

You sat at the dining table opposite from Zsasz and your eyes glided over to Roman’s handsome morning look as you sipped your coffee. 

“Morning my love.” You greeted him back, kissing his lips lightly as he leant down before he rounded your chair to find his own. 

Your eyes moved back to your gaze on Zsasz as he stared at you back with hard look. 

“Morning Victor. Terrible weather this morning, I’m afraid we’ll have to move our plans over to tomorrow and perhaps arrange our meeting at the docks with Mr William’s for this afternoon.” Roman helped himself to the filling spread across the table, picking up some pancakes and fruit. 

“You got it, Boss.” Victor’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke. 

You smirked at the staring match you two seemed to have going and you even saw Zsasz lip twitch on the corner but he controlled himself before Roman could pick up on the little game. 

“Are we still on for dinner tonight or shall I leave my dress at the dry cleaner another day or so?” You couldn't help but be cheeky with Roman which only earned a raised eyebrow and a dangerous smile. 

“Of course, Kitten. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you now.” Roman’s nickname for you rolled off his tongue and you smiled. 

Roman had called you his ‘pussy cat’ since he met you. You had walked into his club for the very first time and his eyes were watching your every move from the moment you passed through the doors.

You had reminded him of a sleek curious cat with your dark cat-like eyeliner and your silky hair that framed your face almost perfectly. You wore a black dress that hung off you, low cut at the front and even lower at the back. The thin material clung to your hips and cascaded down to the bottom of your heels, your knees only just moving the slinky dress with every step. 

You studied the room as Roman watched you. Zsasz had noticed his boss had been distracted by someone that night and when he saw you, he soon understood why. 

Roman immediately swooped you up that night and claimed you as his own. Within hours of meeting you, he knew he never wanted anyone else to have you but he also learned soon enough not to keep you on too tight a leash. 

You’d been together a while now, long enough for the entire city of Gotham to know this wasn’t some usual fling. 

Zsasz had grown more trustworthy of you, something very hard for him to do as all he’s wanted to do was protect his boss, but it was rare that you and Zsasz were alone too long together. 

“Don’t forget you have a meeting with Miss Lance this lunchtime to discuss her new suggestions.” You reminded Roman as you rose from the table in your silk dressing gown similar to Roman’s but white. 

“Thank you, my love.” Roman beckoned you towards him and you obliged, kissing him once again before you left to change for the day.

Roman was right; the weather was terrible which lead you to make the decision to stay in for the day. You spent the morning doing some yoga and working out before you finally crashed on the couch. 

Roman was downstairs dealing with some business with the club and some potential new decor that might be added so nothing too risky/dangerous. By the time lunch came around and Roman was due to have his meeting with Black Canary, he sent Zsasz up to check on you. 

When you heard footsteps coming towards you, you began to stir from your nap. 

“So, we’re all working hard and you get to snooze?” Zsasz said with a light sarcasm as he came into view. 

“Deciding on new wallpaper and seat covers isn’t exactly what I would call hard work, Mr Zsasz.” You teased the man, you actually knew that the faffing was all Roman’s business and that Zsasz would have been making business calls and sorting meetings for Roman that morning. 

You stretched out on the couch as you spoke. Zsasz couldn't help but let his eyes travel across your body as you reached up, extending like a feline before turning and resting on your stomach. 

You hadn’t changed from the morning so wore a simple sports bra and yoga shorts which hugged the curve on your ass as you lied down on your stomach. 

“Ha Ha Ha.” Zsasz responded as he studied you. 

“Roman sent you up to babysit or are you just visiting?” You knew Roman worried about you and you didn't mind too much when he sent one of his guys to check on you. 

“You wish, princess. I’m just here to grab something for the Boss.” Zsasz was a pretty good liar usually but you learned to see through his bullshit. You knew well that Zsasz didn’t really like admitting that Roman sent him up to see you, he thought it might drive you away from Roman or cause a fight and he’d be damned if he started a fight between you two. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Roman for days...

You smiled brightly at the man to which he just turned and headed to his bedroom. 

You spent the next minute lying on the couch before you got bored and decided you should probably shower. 

You walked down the hall towards yours and Roman’s bedroom when you passed Zsasz’s door. 

An unusual noise made you stop just outside. 

“Fuck...” Zsasz groaned, his slow pants audible through the door. 

You were frozen. You didn’t know if moving away would make it more awkward. What if he heard your footsteps if you walked away and then he would know you were hovering outside?

“(Y/n)...” Your name rolled off of Zsasz’s tongue clear as day. 

You felt your heart stop and your insides flutter.

The door was slightly ajar, closed but not closed enough to latch so you could easily push it open a fraction without him noticing. 

You didn’t know what you were doing when you found yourself peering through the tiny gap with curiosity. 

You could see Zsasz in his mirror opposite the bed he was sat on. 

He had his eyes closed, his length in his hand and his chin slightly raised with his lips apart. 

You bit down on your lip subconsciously as you watched the man stroke himself, cursing and moaning your name every few strokes. 

His member was large in his hand, you could feel yourself tighten at the sight and your mouth seemed to go dry. 

“Holy shit...” Zsasz moaned again, his low voice making his thick accent undeniably beguiling. 

You watched him in the mirror as he started to pump faster, drawing himself closer and closer to climax.

Zsasz’s tongue darted across his bottom lip as his moans became louder and more gruff. 

He threw his head back as he came. His seed spilling over his knuckles as he placed his other hand above his tip. 

You weren’t aware that you stopped breathing in that moment. 

When Zsasz cleared his throat and hunched over to return his member to his pants, you took that moment to walk away, picking up your feet as lightly as you could. 

You reached the bathroom and shut the door, falling against it with wide eyes and a new found hunger. 

You switched on the shower and immediately stripped, trying to cool yourself down from what you just witnessed. 

(Gif by @directedbysnyder​)

You didn’t see Zsasz again until later that day. 

You brushed through your hair as you sat in front of your vanity mirror, you were dressed ready to go to dinner but as always waiting on Roman. 

“Boss is waiting downstairs.” Zsasz knocked lightly on your door, 

You looked at him in the mirror, he hovered in the door way, his fingers tapping on the door frame as he waited for your response. 

“He’s not changing?” You asked, trying not to stare at his fingers too long as images filled your head. 

“Guess not.” Zsasz bent his head backwards as he turned away to look down the hall.

Your chest tightened at the side of his bare neck. A vein swelling out of the skin as he looked away from you. Your eyes travelled down his neck down into his shirt where the first few buttons of his shirt were open; the scars the decorated his skin only drew you to him even more.

“What?” Zsasz had noticed you staring before you noticed he was looking back at you. 

“Nothing.” You frowned, trying to play it off. You went back to fixing your hair when Zsasz rolled his eyes. 

“You look great, can we go?” 

You were quick to leave the apartment and jump into the car with Roman. 

“Hey, I missed you.” You kissed Roman on sight and he returned it. 

His leather clad hand took hold of the side of your jaw as he deepened the kiss. 

You felt the fire that had been brewing since lunchtime light up with Roman’s kiss. You hiked up your dress enough to swing your leg over Roman’s lap, sitting yourself down on top of him. 

Roman’s hands moved to your hips but his lips parted from yours when your hands found his belt. 

“Slow down, Pussy Cat...” Roman stopped your hands with his own. 

“Why?” You whined, 

“Because we’re meeting important people tonight and I can’t show up looking anything less than I already look.” Roman broke the news that it wasn’t just you two. Of course, it wasn’t, why were you even expecting it to be. 

“Oh.” You climbed off of Roman and pulled your dress back down. 

“I’ll make it up to you later, kitten, I promise.” Roman brushed your hair from your face with the back of his hand and stroked down your neck. 

You stared ahead but pushed a smile on your face before Roman signalled the driver to leave. 

The evening seemed to fly by unexpectedly and soon you were back in the apartment, lying beside Roman in bed. 

Roman snored lightly as he slept beside you. 

You couldn’t sleep. 

Thoughts circled your head about your dirty little secret. 

You couldn't get Zsasz’s voice out of your head, or the picture of his lips only slightly parted as he breathed heavily to the thoughts of you. 

You brushed your fingers across Roman’s forehead and through his hair, he didn’t stir. You loved Roman. You admired him, found him entertaining, adored his passion and excitement. You even loved his tantrums when things don’t go his way, you loved the sex that followed them too. 

But after today... After seeing Zsasz... 

You couldn’t get rid of the feeling, the temptation, the thought of what it may be like...

Everyone couple had their slips, their doubts, the times where they considered the idea of someone else. Right? 

You slipped out of bed and headed down into the living space of the apartment.

You passed the dining table, stroking your fingers along the cool table top as you did. 

It was late. You figured around 3am but the city outside was still lively. Gotham never slept. 

“What are you doing?” Zsasz’s voice startled you. 

You were stood by the window when Zsasz found you. 

“Jesus Zsasz...” Your hand rested on your chest from where you jumped around to see him. 

“It’s 3 in the morning. I heard something outside my room, I thought it were a trespasser.” That’s when you noticed the large knife in Zsasz hand. 

“Well you can put that thing away, big boy, it’s just me.” The words left your mouth quickly and whilst it was something you’d usually retort you found your cheeks flushing which made you spin back around to look out the window again. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Zsasz commented, ignoring your remark. 

“Why not?” You asked, 

“Boss has a lot of enemies. If someone down there saw yous was alone through that window...” Zsasz gestured with the knife to the window you were people watching from. 

“And if they dared, Roman would have you on their asses quicker than you say peeled face.” You smiled, trying your hardest to avoid looking at Zsasz, especially since he was only half dressed. 

“You should go back to bed, princess, Boss wouldn’t like waking up to an empty bed.” 

“I can’t sleep.” You responded, finally looking over at the man. 

His pyjama pants were low on his hips, his v-lines prominent and dark hair trailed down. They were the only item of clothes he wore as he brandished his knife. With that, you could see all the scars that scattered over his chest and neck. 

“What’s that gap for?” You walked towards the man, suddenly interested in the empty space above his heart. 

“That’s a special place I’m saving for the Joker’s whore, Quinn.” Zsasz tapped on the space with the tip of his knife. 

“Harley Quinn?” You found yourself raising your hand to touch the empty space and you saw Zsasz visibly tense up at your touch. “You and Roman really hate her, huh?” 

You smiled up at him but it soon started to fade when you saw his eyes almost boring through you. 

His lips were agape much like before. 

You couldn’t stop. 

Your hand reached behind his head in a blink of an eye and your lips crashed against his. 

Zsasz only kissed you back for a second before he remembered who you were. He pushed his hands against you and shoved you back hard, causing you to stumble back a few steps; catching yourself on the couch. 

Zsasz was breathing heavy, he was unsure what to do. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You whispered, skiing your head, your eyes locked on his. 

After what felt like forever, Zsasz dropped his knife and strode towards you. His hands took hold of your face as he brought you against him, kissing you like you were water and he was dying of thirst. 

You grasped onto the man, your fingers burrowing into his skin as you kissed him back. His mouth still tasted minty from his toothpaste; his teeth grazed your lips.

“Fuck...” You managed to say. 

Zsasz’s mouth moved down your jaw and onto your neck, you had to bite down on your lip to stay quiet. 

You started pushing Zsasz towards the couch to which he didn’t resist. 

Zsasz sat down on the couch and his fingers brushed against the skin on your stomach as he grabbed the hem of your pyjama top. Your stomach was doing somersaults at the connection and all you wanted was more.

When your shirt was removed and your breasts fell free, Zsasz gripped onto your wrist and pulled you down onto the couch so that he could climb on top of you. 

“Naughty little kitty.” Zsasz purred as he stared down at you. 

You reached up, pulling his neck down so that you could meet his lips again. 

His member pressed through his pants against your leg, making the fire in your belly roar wilder. 

“Fuck me.” You begged whilst the man sucked on your nipples, nipping at them lightly. “Please.” 

Zsasz yanked off his pants, springing his member free before tugging down your pyjama shorts.

He stroke himself a couple times before pressing his tip against your sex, rubbing it against your wetness. 

You dug your nails into the man’s scarred chest as he finally pressed himself inside of you. 

“Ohh fuck...” Zsasz groaned, closing his eyes from the pleasure of your tightness. 

You, being inpatient, buckled your hips against his to take him fully and Zsasz had to bite down on your shoulder to stay silent. 

He pulled his head back, propping himself up on the couch with his arms as he thrusted in and out of you. 

He felt even better than you imagined. 

Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead, his white hair tempting you to take a handful but his length only allowing you to press your fingers against his scalp. 

Zsasz cursed again before pulling out and forcefully flipping you over, taking a handful of your ass before he entered you again. 

You whined as he gathered a fistful of your hair and pulled. His thrusts were hard and deep, drawing you closer to your finish with every pump. 

Zsasz could tell you were close, he pulled you up towards him so that your back was touching his chest. His hand covered your mouth, his thumb inside where you let yourself suck him. 

You bounced against Zsasz as he thrusted and soon you were coming undone, coming on his lap. 

“Good girl.” Zsasz hissed in your ear as he rode you through it. 

You turned your head and met his eyes as he continued to fuck you. 

Your (y/e/c) eyes are what brought Zsasz to a finish, his seed filling you as he became sloppy and slow. 

“This is our secret now.” Zsasz murmured, his chest hot against your back as he held you there. His hand now on your throat. 

You nodded, running your fingers over his plump lower lip to which he moved to suck on. 

This was gonna be trouble...

[orbitariums]

war nymph | bucky barnes ♡

request: ooo write something of bucky and an asgardian reader (who’s thor and loki’s sister) and is the goddess of war. and like they just came back from a mission or something like that. the reader shows off her skills/powers and bucky gets turn on? make it rough and kinky 😳

note: the title is inspired by grimes’ creation called “war nymph”, that’s also yn’s avenger name/goddess name. i know a nymph isn’t the same as a goddess buttt idc! quickly (kind of) written, straight to the point! also i love the idea of an asgardian goddess who’s loki & thor’s sister (we not talking ab hela but i love her too LOL). def would write drabbles/headcanons ab this character if y’all want that. lmk!

word count: 2.6k exactly!

warnings: smut, nsfw, slight voyeurism kink, rough, cute trash talk, both reader and bucky have dom energy? which is fun

here we go!!

"She does it again," Thor praised you, smothering you as he placed his arm around your shoulder.

You, Thor, and Bucky were all getting on the Quinjet, joining a few of the others - that included Steve, Natasha, and Sam. You had just completed another mission in which you were to find and possibly disarm an 0-8-4. You came to find out the weapon originated from a Hydra base, and it was mostly with your help that the weapon was able to be disarmed, and that you were able to escape the Hydra members who tried to stop you from doing just that.

    Thor and Bucky weren't completely useless, of course, but this was a time when your abilities as a war goddess of Asgardia shone. You could quickly disarm weapons and multitask by beating the shit out of someone at once, whether it be with your brute strength of through the use of a weapon. You were familiar with every weapon there was, and incredibly skilled in many fighting tactics. If there ever were a mission for you, it was this one. They called you War Nymph, a title no one dared to challenge.

    "Get off me, you big slob," you grimaced, wriggling away from your brother Thor's grasp. You'd grown up with Thor on Asgard - you were an Asgardian first, and an Avenger second. Your family, specifically your brothers Thor and Loki, always came first. You were always respected on Asgard for your abilities — now they were being put to further use on the Avengers team.

      "And to think I was complimenting you," Thor scoffed, being dramatic as usual.

     "You're not wrong to. What would you ever do without me?" you teased, prompting Bucky to chime in.

    "She's right. I gotta say, I'm impressed."

Bucky Barnes — where to start with him? Sergeant turned Winter Soldier turned Avenger turned... boy toy? You didn't know how exactly your relationship with Bucky was to be defined, but it was definitely physical. Around others, you communicated through mostly sarcastic remarks, but away from the others, it was a different story - still sarcastic remarks, except during your sexual encounters.

      So, true to your nature, you quickly quipped,

     "I gotta say, I can't say the same to you, Barnes."

     "Oh, really?" Bucky raised his brows with a playful smirk.

    "Easy," Natasha intervened, gearing up the Quinjet. "We don't need a repeat of what happened last time you two started with the sarcastic remarks."

    "Oh, you can say that again," Steve scoffed, settling into the seat next to Natasha while you and Bucky leaned against the walls opposite each other, smirking knowingly at each other.

    "It wasn't that bad," you rolled your eyes.

    "We all almost died," Sam snapped.

Last time you and Bucky had your gos at each other, you ended up "play fighting", in the meeting room. But "play fighting" between a war goddess with multiple superpowers, including telekinesis and super strength, and an advanced combatant with super strength, wasn't your typical idea of a play fight. Of course when the rest of the team broke it up, you continued in private... but maybe "fighting" wasn't the right word to use.

    "Oh, don't be such a baby, Sam," Thor smiled. He was well versed in play fighting with you and Loki as a youth on Asgard, and even he had been at the bad end of your powers.

You on the other hand had moved on from the conversation, more interested in sharpening just one of your many knives.

    "Really though. I'm very impressed, War Nymph. You never fail to impress me more and more every single time," Bucky said, and unbeknownst to the others, in his voice there was a secret tone, one only you could decipher - he would be showing his appreciation greatly when you landed. It was so clear to see. The more you showcased your powers, the more you proved your many abilities, the more Bucky wanted you, the more he admired you.

    Your knife made a sharp "shing" noise and you smirked, Bucky's needy eyes traveling to the source of the sound - ogling your trusty hands.

     "I'm sure," you winked.

By the time you got home, Bucky was desperate, trailing behind your feet like a lost, yet murderous puppy. He wanted you, and he wanted you now. He made that known, whispering in your ear, his lips far too close to your neck to just be work-related chatter. Still you kept things under wraps, promising him "soon, soldier." The entirety of your debrief meeting was spent with a frustrated Bucky glaring at you with a dead face, but you knew behind his expression lurked a fire.

    When it was all over, you and Bucky were the last two in the room.

    "Meet in my room?" you asked, but Bucky was silent.

    He shook his head slowly, approaching you with a stern look on his face.

    "No. Let's just do this here."

    "Here?" you laughed, looking around the deserted meeting room, which had glass panels that could easily be walked past and seen through. "You can't be serious-"

     But apparently he was, because he had you pushed against the wall, lips pressed against yours, cutting you off and silencing you with ease. So all that need in his eyes hadn't been just for show, and you felt it through his pants as well. The kiss became passionate and sloppy, burning with desire. You moaned into his mouth, making him even harder, and started feeling the tell tale signs of arousal - your beating heart to match your other beating heart.

    "Bucky-" you panted, the minute his lips detached from yours, breathless. His hands ran along your body and tugged at your clothing, wanting every bit of it off. "Someone could see-"

You were grasping on to every bit of logic that you had left, and there wasn't much. Bucky made you delirious with desire, made your heart race like no other, and you had the same effect on him. Logic wasn't necessarily winning here. You wanted him, and you wanted him now. And he had made it very clear that he didn't care where he had you.

    He smirked, looking into your eyes with a mischievous glint in his own,

    "You act like that's such a bad thing."

You rolled your eyes, pulling him back in - he had you all figured out. The idea of someone seeing the two of you, though horrifying, was also incredibly arousing. Whatever it was, it got adrenaline pumping through your veins like nobody's business. You didn't really care, who were you fooling?

    "Just fuck me," you murmured against the hot skin of his neck, guiding his hand into your pants, feeling the cool metal of his prosthetic hand against your wet pussy, gliding back and forth against your slick folds.

    "Are you bossing me around?" Bucky teased, grinding his hips against you so you felt the outline of his cock against your core.

    "Yes," you retorted. "And that's an order."

    It wasn't long before both your uniforms were off, and you both did this quickly, your nimble fingers working to complete the task. You needed to make this quick, and if that meant it was rough, then so be it. You weren't usually gentle, anyways. But Bucky took his time going down on you anyway, kneeling on the floor and kissing hot, wet kisses against your stomach and thighs as he went down, your hand tugging at his long, black hair. You domineered him as he buried his head between your thighs, sucking and kissing at your clit while his tongue worked your slit. You raised up one of your legs and settling your foot on his shoulder so he had easier access to you.

    "Look at me," you forced his head up, hand tugging harshly at his hair, and he moaned into your throbbing core as you made intense eye contact with each other. You couldn't help but sigh in pleasure, leaning your head back against the wall. You had forgotten the dangers of doing this long ago, now you were lost in satisfaction. "Fuck, Bucky, you eat it so good," you moaned precariously, making his dick twitch in his boxers.

    He wanted to make you come two ways - on his face and with his cock inside you, and he would work to ensure that it happened. When it came to sex with Bucky, you were both competing with each other to give the other the most pleasure, to be the most dominant. You were the perfect mix, two competitive assholes with superpowers.

    He kitten licked up from your entrance to your clit, all the while rubbing his fingers in circular motions against your clit, sure to use the hand with the metal arm, which you loved so much. Your hips bucked against his tongue and you began to roll your hips up and down against his face, moaning and whimpering at the access he had to you. He let you do this for a while before pulling back and instead pushing two cold fingers in, making your hips twitch at the unexpected sensation. He curved his fingers upwards and had you hooked, fucking down on his fingers, to his astonishment.

    "That's it baby, fuck my fingers," he praised you, and attached his lips to your clit again, sucking and licking. "Am I good for you? Good enough to make you come?"

     You gasped out the words,

     "Yes, Bucky, fuck. So good for me, baby, I'm gonna cum."

     "Go ahead," he started thrusting his fingers in and out faster, harder, feeling his knuckles bottom out against your skin, which was glazed over with your arousal and his spit. He watched as his fingers disappeared inside of you, still aiming his tongue just above his fingers so he could taste you when you finished. He always wanted to taste you, to feel you in your entirety - there was something about an Asgardian war goddess that was irresistible.

     You came with a cry of shock, and slowly rolled your hips around Bucky's fingers as he pressed his tongue against you to taste you.

     "Fuck," you sighed, licking your lips and breathing harshly.

     "Taste yourself," Bucky insisted, rising to his feet and pressing his lips against yours, initiating a long and needy kiss. You palmed him through his boxers, feeling his hard cock in your hands, before slowly bringing him out, stroking him softly and tugging at him. He chuckled darkly. "You're playing a dangerous game."

    "They call me War Nymph. I'm always playing dangerous," you smirked, locking eyes with him.

     He hummed, nodding almost understandingly.

    "Hmm. I'm not quite done with you yet."

    "I was hoping that wasn't your A-game," you teased.

    "Oh, far from it," Bucky quipped back, smiling playfully, until all playfulness was over and he had you turned around, his hand pressing down into your back. "Fucking bend over," he leaned over you and whispered in your ear.

     You whimpered at the command and did as you were told, supporting yourself with your hands against the wall and arching your back. Bucky found no use in waiting, and you felt the tip of his cock toying at your entrance at record speed, slicking himself in your arousal and watching as he teased your folds.

     "Fuck," he whispered, his jaw clenching hard.

     "It can be yours, soldier. You just have to earn it," you panted out, glancing over your shoulders to get a good look at him.

      You knew that would motivate him, and it did more than that. He slammed into you with no regards, making your whole body lurch forward. You both let out obscene moans at the feeling of his sudden entrance. You felt his cock stretch you out, filling you up amazingly, and he felt the stretch of your walls around him, a reminder of his size.

    "You like when I stretch you out?" Bucky prompted, and you moaned quietly in response, only making him buck his hips harder into you, in search of a proper answer. Again that metal arm came in contact with your warm skin, only this time his hand was wrapped around your neck, forcing you to look up, almost at him, while he fucked into you from behind. "I asked a question."

    You moaned, your voice ragged and breathless in addition to the hand over your throat,

    "Fuck, yes, Bucky. It's so fucking good."

     "Yeah? Is it mine? Did I earn it?" he panted, slowing his thrusts and rolling his hips in so he fucked deep inside of you, so you felt it in your stomach, your walls clenching around him.

    You nearly cried out,

    "Yes, yes you earned it, it's your pussy, Bucky, make it yours."

    "Mhm," he moaned, his breaths unstable. He slid in and out of you slowly and gently, going as deep as he could, silencing himself just to hear your moans and pants. Then he got an idea, sliding almost all the way out. "Fuck yourself, YN."

    You moaned at the delicious thought, whimpering as you moved your hips back on him while he stood still, cherishing the feeling of his cock gliding against your walls, wanting to savor every part of him. He was big, and thick, and you could tell as you fucked back onto him. You started out slow, until Bucky brought his hand on the small of your back and started to guide you, slowly but surely, until you were moving faster, making little moans escape from your lips each time your ass met his thighs. It was rough and hard, the way he fucked you, his hand making you move faster each time.

    "So good, baby," Bucky moaned, almost whining, and watched as your body followed his lead with ease. "I'm close."

    "Oh god, me too," you panted, and he started to slam into you to get you to that point, listening to the pretty moans and practical screams that left your mouth at that point. If it weren't for the fact that the meeting room was sound proof, by now everyone would've heard you, and it was just pure luck that no one had walked past yet.

     But when you came, it was explosive, and Bucky's orgasm followed soon after, your orgasms falling on top of one another's, colliding in such a divine way. You kept your hips rocking back on his, wanted to stay there until the sound of footsteps reminded you that such a thing would be irresponsible. You got dressed in record speed, practically throwing Bucky's clothes out of the way. You had your needs, but you were still a goddess. You wouldn't be caught slipping, even if this wasn't a bad way to "slip." You adjusted yourself, back to normal by the time Scott walked past and waved mindlessly, with no clue of what you and Bucky had just been up to.

    "'It's your pussy'?" Bucky repeated, quoting you with a knowing smile on his lips as he cocked his head.

You scoffed,

    "Don't get too ahead of yourself, Barnes. I was only saying that so you would fuck me for real. You've done better."

      "Oh yeah?" Bucky grinned, matching your playful insults easily.

     "Oh yeah, much better. But this wasn't half bad," you smirked, running your hand along his face. You gave his cheek a gentle slap. "Ok! I'll see you."

     "See you," Bucky replied.

As you walked away, you turned to note,

    "You should appreciate my skills more often. You know, if it's going to lead to this."

    "Sure thing."

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Done in the Dark

Summary: Your secret relationship with Bucky comes to light in the worst possible way.  Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Niece!Reader x Tony Stark Word Count: 3805 Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Drinking, naked Bucky, bubble bath with Bucky, implied smut, nightmares, Winter Soldier type violence, choking (not the fun kind).  Square Filled: Hurt/Comfort for @marvelfluffbingo​ Square Filled: “What Did You Do?” for @buckybarnesbingo​ [M] A/N: PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. I have no desire to trigger anyone with my fics, but this was an idea that came to me based on a personal experience with my ex-fiance, a Marine who suffers from PTSD. What happened with him was nowhere near as bad as what happens in the fic, and we are no longer together, but it had nothing to do with this particular incident. If you need to skip this fic, I completely understand. 

You watched the yellow cab pull away from the Avengers’ compound, waiting until it disappeared into the horizon before you bit your lip and approached the front entry. Security put you through the third degree, but before too long, you were finally buzzed inside. 

“Well, look who it is,” Tony Stark grinned, coming towards you. “The prodigal niece.”

You smiled as he hugged you tight. “Hey, Uncle Tony.”

“You should have told me you were coming, kid. I would have let security know, you wouldn’t have set off alarms, had weapons on standby …”

“Did I really?” Your eyes went wide. 

“It’s nothing,” Tony winked, leaving you unsure if he was kidding or not. “What’s the occasion? Been a while since you came to see me.”

You licked your lips, eyeing the man with the dark hair who was passing by. “Oh, well, you know, I just … I needed a getaway. Mom gets crazy sometimes, you know, and Dad’s away on business.”

Tony glanced where you were looking. “Right, of course. You’re welcome, as long as you need to stay. Y/N, you know — you’ve met the darker of our two supersoldiers, yes? Sergeant Bucky Barnes, my niece, Y/N.”

Bucky gave you a tight smile and nodded, quickly shaking your hand. “Yeah, we’ve met. Nice to see you again, miss.”

You drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, you, too. Uncle Tony, I’m starving. What are the chances we could get something amazing to eat here?”

Bucky went his way as you and Tony went yours. Your surrogate uncle showed you to an empty room where you could stay for your visit. He called it a room, but it was more like a suite, complete with a small living space, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into a smaller room off of the living space. A bathroom completed the setup, and you already couldn’t wait to get into that tub. 

“Hungry? I’ll take you to dinner. You brought a dress?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I did. I know better than to stick with my usual casual attire when packing to see you.”

Tony winked and left you in the room alone to wash up and get ready for dinner. You unpacked first, laying your dress on the bed, then heading to the shower in the bathroom off your room. You took your time, making sure that your appearance would be on par for anyone associated with Tony Stark in public. Oh, you knew Tony didn’t care one way or the other, but you didn’t want to be a disappointment. 

You called Tony when you were done, and he said he would meet you out front with the car so the two of you could head to dinner. You made sure you had what you needed in your purse for the evening, then opened the door and gasped. 

“Sorry,” Bucky smirked, “I didn’t mean to spook you.”

You chuckled and waved him off. “It’s fine. Is anyone around?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just you and me. I wanted to see you all dolled up before you left. You look … you’re breathtaking, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” You smiled coyly and went up on tiptoe and Bucky bent down, the two of you meeting in the middle in a sweet, brief kiss. As soon as you were flat back on your feet, as much as your heels would allow, you looked both ways, then sighed. “Someday we won’t have to keep this a secret.”

Bucky brushed his knuckles over your cheek. “You’re right. Sooner, hopefully, than later. How do you feel about having a sit down with Tony while you’re here this time? We’ll tell him everything, together, and whatever his reaction is, we’ll handle it, together.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. “You really think you’re ready for that?”

Bucky smiled and nodded, taking both of your hands in his. “I’m ready to let everyone know that you’re my girl. I think Tony’s trusting me much more these days — the missions are helping with that. If he doesn’t want me dating his niece, then …”

“Then he’ll have his niece to deal with,” you finished, one brow raised and your feisty side coming through in your tone. “I’d better get to the car before he comes looking for me. I’ll come find your room tonight, after everyone’s asleep?”

Bucky kissed you again. “I’d hoped you would.”

You smiled and walked towards the entrance to meet Tony and the car, your fingers mingling with Bucky’s until the last possible second. 

The restaurant was crowded. You were always surprised by the number of patrons these extravagant places attracted; could that many people really afford such a bill? You didn’t have long to linger on that thought today, as the hostess immediately saw you and Tony to a table for two. 

You trailed behind them, watching Tony nod and wave to a few people along the way. Your hands smoothed out your dress and tucked your hair behind your ears. You felt as though all eyes were on you, as if everyone knew you didn’t really belong here. You wondered how many of them thought you were nothing more than one of Tony’s young, less-than-brilliant conquests. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Tony told you when you were seated and the hostess had gone off to relay your drink orders to the waiter. “You belong here just as much as any of them.”

You smirked. “It’s like you read my mind.”

“I have known you for a while now, and I’m a genius, so.” He shrugged, as if that one statement explained everything. 

Once you had a little wine in your system, the other patrons were less intimidating. You were able to focus on the conversation with Tony and the filling meal you had picked from the menu. 

“Tell me really why you came,” Tony prompted when the plates were cleared and a second bottle of wine was delivered to the table. 

You licked your lips. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him that Bucky was part of the reason you had come, but you didn’t want to step out on the plan you and Bucky had made to sit down with Tony soon and tell him about your relationship. You left that part out and reiterated what you had told him earlier about your mother. 

“It’s like when Dad is out of town, she really loses it, you know? I don’t know what it is, but she just — she’s so angry all the time. Dad makes good money. She’s got everything she’s ever asked for and then some at her disposal, but if he isn’t there to answer her beck and call personally, she’s mad at the world.”

Tony pursed his lips, carefully weighing his words before he spoke them — not something he did often. “When your father told me he was marrying your mother, I wasn’t sure if that was the greatest idea. But, then again, I wasn’t one, at the time, to speak well of any relationship. He’s one of my oldest friends, and he seemed happy. You maybe haven’t always seen it, Y/N, but she has been this way since they started dating.”

You let out a breath. “Why does he stay?”

Tony’s answer was simple, matter-of-fact. “He loves her. That’s all he needs to know.”

You nodded. Love was something you had only begun to understand as more than fairytales and pretty lies when you had met Bucky and got to know him. His dark past made him somewhat dangerous, and he had warned you that sometimes he could feel the memories sneaking up on him. You didn’t care. You fell for him fast and hard, and that was all you needed to know. 

“Did I lose you, kiddo?”

You snapped your attention back to Tony. “Sorry, yeah. Maybe. Just processing, I guess.”

Tony smiled. “You’ve had a busy day, traveling and coming out with me. Let’s get you back to the compound and let that wine put you to sleep.”

You smiled, too. You were tired, and the wine had calmed you even more, but it wasn’t either of those things that was going to put you to sleep that night. 

Tony dropped you off to the room that was yours for your stay, then told you he would be in the lab if you needed anything. You kissed his cheek and bid him good night, then slipped into your room and shut the door behind you. A few seconds after the lock clicked on the door, soft music floated from the bathroom. You bit your lip and smiled, hoping your suspicions were correct about who was waiting for you there. 

“I was hoping I had the timing right,” a shirtless Bucky smiled at you were you stopped in the doorway to step out of your heels. “The tub just finished filling.”

You looked over to the tub and saw a layer of bubbles right at the brim of the tub. A few candles were lit on the counter, filling the space with the lovely, calming scent of lavender. The soft music continued to play as Bucky took your hand and pulled you gently to his chest, kissing your lips. 

“Hi,” you whispered, looking up into his blue eyes. 

“Hey,” Bucky returned with a sexy smirk. “C’mon. Let’s get you into the bath.”

Bucky slipped his vibranium arm behind you, found the zipper on your dress, and slowly unzipped the garment. His hands moved under the straps of your dress then, pushing them away from your shoulders, following them down until the dress was piled at your feet. He held your hand to keep you balanced while you stepped away from the dress; he pushed it to the side with his foot. He sucked in a deep breath at the lacy, navy blue bra and panties you had on. 

“That’s … something,” was all he could manage to say as he continued to stare at you and his eyes darkened with need. 

You giggled. “I wore it for you, Buck.”

Bucky met your eyes and smiled, his hands gliding over the skin on your back before spreading over the lace that covered your ass. He met your lips with hungry kisses, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, massaging your tongue and making you wish you had worn nothing at all under that dress. Too abruptly, Bucky ended the kiss. 

“All right, sweetheart. I know what you’ve been dealing with, with your mom. I want you to relax before I work you up again.”

“Too late for that,” you muttered. 

But Bucky only smiled and unhooked your bra with one expert hand. He dropped the lacy garment to the floor before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and moving them down your legs; you used his shoulders to balance you as you stepped out this time. 

You put a hand on Bucky’s belt buckle. “You’re going to join me, right?”

“Of course. Let me get you in there first, then I’ll be right behind you.”

He held tight to your hand until you were settled safely under the bubbles. The water was the perfect temperature and you delighted in the way the bubbles surrounded you. 

Bucky was right behind you, as promised, discarding his jeans and boxers in one swoop. You bit your lip, reminding yourself this bath was about relaxing. Bucky had put in the effort, and you didn’t want to ruin the evening. 

Once Bucky was settled behind you with a leg on either side you, you leaned back against his chest. He reached for a washcloth on the side of the tub and dunked it under the water before running it softly over one of your arms, across your chest, and down the other arm. 

“Is it helping?” he asked. 

You nodded. “It really is. Dinner with Uncle Tony, and this bath, and the rest of the night with you. It’s all helping.” 

“Good.” He kissed your hair and continued on running the washcloth over your body, helping you relax even more. 

When the water was chilling off and your fingers were pruny, Bucky got out first, reaching for one of two fluffy towels. He helped you to stand, then wrapped the towel around your body. You secured it in place while Bucky used the other towel to dry himself off, leaving it wrapped around his waist. 

“What now?” you asked, your tone anything but subtle. 

“Now,” Bucky said, slinking towards you, “I find other ways to make you forget about the things your mother said and did.”

Without warning, he lifted you into his arms, bridal-style. You yelped then laughed, kissing Bucky on the cheek and anxious to get into the bedroom with him. 

3:41 AM. 

That was the time on the clock when you were pulled from sleep by a writhing Bucky next to you. His hair was sweaty and his brow was furrowed deeper than you had ever seen it. Droplets of sweat beaded over his face, his neck, his chest. You sat up and let out a breath; it wasn’t the first time Bucky had been plagued by nightmares while sleeping next to you. You flipped on the lamp on the nightstand and put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, shaking gently. 

“Bucky,” you said, not too loud but not a whisper either, “wake up. It’s a nightmare, you’re having a nightmare. Everything’s okay. Wake up, Buck.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you. That wasn’t a first, either. You had seen him looking at you in fear, trying to make sense of the real world and his nightmare world. You would kiss him, assure him everything was okay. 

Tonight was different. Bucky’s eyes were cold, distant — almost empty. There was no fear when he looked at you. Your hazy brain couldn’t process fast enough that the dangerous part of Bucky, the one he had warned you about, had come to the surface. 

His vibranium arm shrugged your hand away from his shoulder before both of his hands gripped your arms and effortlessly tossed you off the bed. You hit the wall with a hollow thud, spots of different colors and sizes filling your vision. You shook your head in an attempt to normalize your vision, but it didn’t help. 

Bucky stalked toward you, still with that cold, empty look in his eyes. You managed to get yourself up on all fours, so you worked to scramble away from him, but he was too quick. Metal fingers wrapped around your ankle, dragging you across the carpet. 

“Bucky! Please! Bucky, it’s me!”

But your pleading made no difference. He pulled you up to your feet and slammed you against the wall you had hit less than a minute ago. His flesh hand pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. He pushed you up the wall until your feet dangled inches above the floor. You held tight to his hand, trying in vain to pull it away from your throat, wishing for only enough air for one more breath. In your mind, that would be enough to keep you going. To keep you alive. 

Then, all at once, he dropped you. You crumpled to the floor in a coughing, sputtering, gasping mess. You turned to look at Bucky, too afraid now to have your back to him. 

There was the fear you had been expecting, glazed over with guilty tears. He looked at his hands as though they weren’t his, then looked to you. 

“Y/N, I’m … I don’t …”

He reached out to you, and you slapped his hand away. Once you had caught enough breath, you scrambled to your feet and left the suite, running down the hall to Tony’s room. What a sight you must have been, crying and still coughing, pounding on his door in one of Bucky’s t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. 

He wasn’t entirely awake when he answered the door, but as soon as he saw you, Tony’s eyes went wide and he pulled you into the room. He closed the door behind the two of you. 

“All right, all right,” he soothed, kissing your hair. “It was a bad dream. It’s all right. I’m here, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

Tony led you to a couch and sat you down. You kept your head down as you cried, waiting for the light that came on and your uncle’s inevitable reaction to your appearance. 

“Look at me,” Tony directed softly. 

You did as he asked. The hand mark on your throat was visible now. Tony’s jaw set and his chest puffed out in anger. He asked you, again and again, what had happened, but you refused to tell him. You refused to let him leave your side. 

You didn’t remember falling asleep again, but you woke to the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen in Tony’s suite. He brought you a cup, and you raised it to your lips. Your head was throbbing; you reached behind you and found a nice knot at the back of your head. Your whole body was sore and bruised from Bucky throwing you off the bed, and your throat was dry and sore. The coffee felt warm and soothing going down. 

“I recognize that shirt,” Tony said, slowly, “so you can tell me what happened, or I can go after him myself and find some answers.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to decide what you were going to do. “It was an accident, Uncle Tony. He didn’t mean to do it.”

Tony nodded; that was all he needed to know. He set his coffee cup down and unceremoniously walked out to the hallway you had come down the night before. You heard him ask FRIDAY for Bucky’s location, and that set you on your feet quicker than you thought possible. 

“Sergeant Barnes is in the training room, Mr. Stark.”

Tony set off in a run, and even on your best day, there was no keeping up with him. You moved as fast as you could, arriving at the training room only thirty seconds behind Tony, just in the nick of time to see Iron Man armor wrap around your uncle’s arm. 

“Uncle Tony, don’t!” you begged. 

Your cry was enough to pull Bucky’s attention. He turned directly into a punch from Tony, knocking Bucky to the floor. He wiped blood from his lip and sat back on his heels. 

“Tony …”

“What did you do?” Tony demanded of Bucky. He had his arm extended in Bucky’s direction, a small blaster coming up and out of the armor. “What the fuck did you do, Barnes?”

“Stop!” you cried, planting yourself between Bucky and Tony. “Uncle Tony, it was an accident, I told you. Bucky was having a nightmare, I tried to wake him up. It’s not the first time, but it doesn’t usually go this way. He’s never before and never would, in his right mind, lay a hand on me.”

Tony looked at Bucky, still on his knees, his head hanging in guilt. You sought your uncle’s eyes and pleaded with him to stand down. 

“How long has this been going on?” Tony asked you. 

You swallowed hard. “A few months. We didn’t tell you because — well, for obvious reasons. But we were going to tell you this weekend. We wanted to sit down and have a conversation about it, but then last night …”

Tony looked at you and then behind you at Bucky. The armor folded back into the watch on his wrist. Bucky muttered something neither of you heard. 

“What’s that?” Tony asked, ready to don the armor again at a moment’s notice. 

You stepped aside and knelt down next to Bucky. You took his face in your hands and met his eyes. “What’d you say?”

He drew in a breath. “I said, I’m sorry.” He looked to Tony. “I would never hurt her, Stark. I swear it. I was dreaming about HYDRA. I woke up but I — I don’t know. I remember seeing her when she woke me up, and the next thing I remember is choking her. I would never intentionally hurt Y/N. I love her.”

That was news to you, but it wasn’t the time to dwell on such things. Tony stared harshly at Bucky before extending his arm again; both of you jumped a little, until you realized Tony’s hand was reaching out to help. 

“C’mon, tin can. Let’s go get both of you checked out.”

Bucky glanced at you, guilt clouding his eyes, before he took Tony’s hand and hoisted himself off the floor. Bucky held a hand out to you and you took it, content to walk with him to the infirmary. You wanted to apologize for panicking and running out the night before, but you didn’t even know how to begin. 

Bucky squeezed your hand as the two of you trailed behind Tony. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I love you.”

You put a hand on his face. “I love you too, Buck. I’m so sorry I ran out last night, I —”

“I scared you,” Bucky sighed. “I don’t blame you, and I’m glad you ran, sweetheart. It wasn’t safe for you. I’m not safe for you.”

You stopped in your tracks. Bucky stopped with you. You threw your arms around his middle, hugging him tight until he embraced you around your shoulders. You tilted your head up, and Bucky obliged you a kiss. 

“We’re going to figure out why this happened, and I’m not leaving until it’s all cleared up,” you told him definitively, leaving no room for argument. “I love you, Bucky, and no matter what you think, regardless of what happened last night, the safest place for me is to be with you.”

Bucky seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. You realized he had been prepared to part ways for your safety, but it wasn’t what he truly wanted. He was just as scared as you were, maybe more. 

At the infirmary, Tony quietly explained to Dr. Banner what had happened. Bruce looked at you, then at Bucky, and nodded. 

“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Y/N, I’m going to have you and Tony go into that room over there, I’ll be there shortly to check you out. Sergeant Barnes, if you’ll follow me, we’ll start neurological tests right away.”

You hated the idea of being apart from Bucky just then, but it was necessary. You would be right back with him when you could. You turned to follow Tony, and Bucky followed Banner, but he held tight to your hand, your fingers touching right up to the last possible second. 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​  @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​ @softrogers​

[crowleyellestair]

Hey dear!! How are you doing? Are you feeling any pain? I had all my wisdom teeth removed last year and the first day wasn’t good, but after that it was okay, but my jaw was swollen for a while tho. I wish you a smooth recovery!! You asked for requests, so I was thinking about this: reader travels with geralt and jaskier. Mutual pining between she and geralt, but they still haven’t confessed their feelings. They go to a ball and Yen is there (1/2)

AN/// Sorry this is so late; I have a post explaining everything and how it wasn’t as smooth as both of us hoped. This is a great prompt, and thank you so much for the kind words. I was excited to write this! It’s a little longer, but I hope that makes up for the wait.

  Lights blurred together and she didn’t try to blink them into focus, her mind too busy in stealing itself. Y/n was well aware Yen could read her mind at any moment, and she could let herself wander into emotional territory. Instead, she focused on how loud the room was, and how it made her head pound. Voices mixed together, none distinguishable at this point. She was sure that if she focused, she could make out the conversation between Yen and Geralt that unfolded right in front of her, but that was risky business. She could never look at the witcher without her heart racing, love grasping every part of her being.

Feet stomped across the dancefloor, drowning out her friend’s playing, though if the small trio they sported wasn’t at the other end of the room, she might be able to hear it better. The room was hot, despite the cool night. She struggled to keep the empty glass clinched between her fingers as she started to sweat. It had been years since she had worn a dress, the extra fabric not helping. Y/n tried not to sway as the heels of her shoes started to make her feet hurt. Jaskier had helped her create the outfit, and she started to regret not insisting the flat shoes she had mentioned at the beginning of the process.

People moved around them, their figures blurring along with the lights. Their forms making the room even louder, warmer. Her knees were locked, but she could only focus on keeping her mind shut. Yen was a powerful woman, and it is intimidating- you’d be a fool to think otherwise. It was hard for the woman not to compare herself to the sorceress in the moment, especially since she’d been doing it since they first met years ago.

“Y/n?” Her eyes snapped into focus as her name was called. She looked between the two sets of eyes staring at her. Violet ones, filled with amusement, and molten gold, filled with what she could only hope was concern. She cleared her throat, looking down to her glass.

“I’m… going to get fresh air.” The woman gave a curt nod, mainly for herself in agreement, and walked away, still feeling both gazes on her back. Everything continued to blend together until she finally made it onto the balcony. Y/n started to gasp, a hand going to the tightened bodice. The other grasped the railing and her eyes had to blink away tears.

There was so much hope built for the night. After Jaskier was asked to play at the party, the two spent the whole day preparing. Jaskier for his show, and Y/n had prepared to simply ride along until the bard insisted tonight was the night. He had been along for the ride for half a decade in the adventure that was her infatuation with the witcher. Everything from her hair to the dress was tailored special, all with the help of the bard. While at first she had been against it, not wanting to risk years of friendship, she had caved. Though, it had all been thrown away once golden eyes found violet. Geralt had been what she could only call giddy, and he’d been posted by the sorceress’s side since. And it hurt.

Y/n was the one who was always there, defending him, representing him and loving him. Of course, he had never asked for any of that, but she had given it. It was only three nights ago where they had sat in comfortable silence under the same stars she looked to now. It was a normalcy for them, as she always stayed up when he woke from nightmares. It had been a busy day then, filled with brewing potions and decoctions, as Geralt trusted her with certain recipes to help out. The woman could remember the first time he taught them to her, and the small, timid smile he gave. He mentioned how his teacher would be furious if he found out Geralt gave away ‘witcher secrets’, but he knew the knowledge would be safe with her. It was small moments like that that made her fall for him, and had her convinced he felt the same.

But it always comes down to Yen. Y/n always convinces herself once more that he feels the same until the sorceress glides back into their lives. Y/n never spoke of Yen and her assumptions or questions, though she knew Jaskier caught on to her envy. Anytime the bard would try and sooth her worries, she would change the subject, the would-be truth too hard to face. However, tonight was the night. It was all or nothing. The trio had travelled close enough to her hometown, so if he had rejected her, she would be able to slip away easily. She felt somewhat guilty about planning to leave. She hadn’t told Jaskier about her plan upon rejection, and she knew Roach would be raw about it too. The witcher once had said how frustrating it was, knowing Roach loved her more. The mare would always take her side when fights happened, never letting her usual rider on, no matter how frustrating it was for him. Geralt was particular, however, and she wouldn’t dare overuse her stay among the party if he didn’t feel the same.

Y/n was lost in thought, even as someone approached, which was uncommon for her. She was on autopilot when she responded to the thrown-out phrase,

“Doth my eyes deceive me?”

“Probably, I’m blind.” Her tone was quiet compared to the excited baritone who initiated, though excitement flooded through her as realization dawned. She turned around quickly, a smile gracing her for the first time since arriving at the party. Before her was her childhood friend, who stayed by her side until she left with the witcher and bard. “Felix!” He gave a smile in return, giving a sarcastic bow before opening his arms. The embrace was warm and a great change of pace. They parted, though he kept an olive toned hand on her shoulder.

“Y/n, it’s great to see you. It’s been, what, half a decade? At some point I started to wonder if you were simply an imaginary friend.” She laughed, and his smile grew.

“Well, you are crazy enough for that to be in the realm of possibility.”

“Exactly, that’s why I was worried.” Again, they both laughed, making their way to the balcony. His hand dropped, though his arm rubbed against hers as they stared out into the night sky. “I’m surprised you’re back. And at a party, no less.” The woman shrugged, trusting him, though not wanting to give too much away.

“The entertainment tonight is a good friend. We travel together, and I came to support him.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but too much time has passed to tell the whole truth. While Felix had been supportive of her leaving, she remembers how warry he was of the witcher.

“Well, I’m glad. It’s great to see you.” There was no response, though there was something she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize for leaving him, knowing he wanted to break out of the town just as much as she had. But he was a noble’s son, he couldn’t come with.

“How’s the family,” was all she could come up with. Y/n practically flinched at her own inquiry, knowing that everything was muddled with her at the moment. They were close, though she never felt how she did with Geralt. She was never in love. Childhood infatuation, maybe, but she knew she couldn’t be with Felix. Everyone in town knew the brunette next to her wanted to ask for her hand, but she left the first moment she could.

“Fine. Can’t complain, I guess. The estate is good too. I should be taking over in the next year or so.” She nodded, not really knowing how to get out what she wanted to say. Her mind kept reeling back to Geralt and Yen, and what they would be up to, and it ate away at her. “Are you staying or passing through?”

“Oh, uh…just passing. Or maybe staying. I’m not entirely sure yet.” They stood in silence for a moment before Felix knocked against the railing. He turned to face her, giving a small smile.

“Well, could I ask for a dance?” Y/n opened her mouth to decline before he dropped his head, peering at her through thick lashes. “Just as a farewell dance. Or maybe a welcome back dance, if you do decide to stay.” Her mouth shut, and she looked to her hands. The only people she’d be hurting by saying no where Felix and herself. Geralt seemed pretty preoccupied at the moment anyways. She looked back up with a smile, agreeing.

Arm and arm they moved to the dance floor, Y/n trying to block out years of secret smiles the witcher had given her. The sharing of warmth at night when it was only a little chilly. The brushed knuckles as they walked side by side. Mornings and nights spent attached at the hips in perfect contentment. His broken compliments given to her, and his flustered brooding that followed. Fingers lingering a little too long on skin when tending to injured areas. Personal secrets shared over liters of ale. All of it had to be steeled away.

Hands found hands, shoulders and hips. Her eyes found Jaskier’s confused gaze, but she brushed him off, trying to make Felix the subject of the moment. And after a while, he was. After stepping on his feet, and bumping into other couples, the two lost time, smiling and laughing the whole way. Felix had asked for one dance, but they spent more than three together. All of them were upbeat, and they both were out of breath. It seemed Jaskier finally needed a break, slower strums filling the air. Felix stared down at his old friend; a large smile spread over his visage. He started to lean in, when a low gruff was heard behind her. Y/n’s eyes widened, knowing the huff anywhere, turning in Felix’s arms to find Geralt, standing very uncomfortably in the middle of the floor. If Y/n wasn’t so engrossed in the amber eyes in front of her, she would have noted that Jaskier’s lyrics were supposed to come in two measures ago. Th bard seemingly also entranced by the scene before him. Blue eyes found violet, and she gave a smirk, suggesting this was her idea.

“Geralt, what are you doing here?” He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment before looking at her skirt.

“We came here together.” It took a moment, but Y/n let out a small snort, something she only did with him. Usually she kept up appearances, even with her laugh, though she always herself with him. Even now, she couldn’t think of Yen or Felix. Only the witcher she adored.

“I meant on the dance floor.” HE gave a curt nod, closing his eyes, almost as if readying himself.

“To ask you to dance.” The witcher glared at the ceiling when she took a moment to process what he had just said.

“Me? To…dance? What about Yennefer?” Geralt’s brow raised as his eyes met hers.

“What about Yen?”

“Well… weren’t you two conversing? You seemed pretty engrossed.” His eyes flew over her shoulder to find said woman smiling. The sorceress had said Y/n would say something like that. It was among the many things she said would be spoken, among things like a confession, to which he had scoffed at. Though Yen was heavy set on Geralt asking her to dance. The two had a relationship once, though it turned to an easy friendship after realizing it wouldn’t work out. Mainly because, despite the djinn entangling their futures, Geralt’s heart belonged to Y/n. The wolf shrugged, not knowing how to continue. Though he started to glare once more, and Y/n followed his glare over her shoulder to Felix. Guilt started to eat away, but he spoke up before she could say anything.

“It was great to see you again, Y/n.” He bowed his head before disappearing into the crowd. He turned back to the witcher, who looked more uncomfortable than when he arrived. His jaw was tight, but he stepped closer, eyes still looking to where Felix disappeared before seemingly scolding himself.

“I’m sorry.” Her heart dropped, thinking he already knew of her affections. That he would reject her before she could even ask. She too cleared her throat, not being able to meet his gaze either.

“For what?”

“He seemed nice.” Her brow raised before she met amber again.

“Felix was a childhood friend. He holds title at an estate not too far from here. It was nice to see him again, though he surely has other people to rub elbows with here.” They stood in silence as couples floated around them.

“So…dance?” Y/n perked up, stumbling over herself.

“Yes! Dance. Love to dance. I mean- I would love to dance. With you.” His hands found her hips and her hands found his shoulders. His eyes couldn’t stop roaming over her face, and a flush broke over her cheeks. “I have to admit though, I don’t really know how to dance. No matter how slow.” He nodded for a moment before looking into her eyes.

“Stand on my feet.” Her brow rose, and again his gaze found the floor. “Dancing was apart of training. You need to be able to be as graceful as the creature you’re going against.” Tepidly, she stood on his boots, and he started to flow with the music. She didn’t realize it, but her hands had curled into the white locks that rested over the back of his neck. His thumbs pressed into her waist, and they got lost in each other’s gazes. Jaskier must have been keeping a watchful eye as he played a second slow song. This was it. Now or never.

“Geralt, I… We’ve… wow, this was way better when I practiced earlier.”

“I remember you saying that you never practice.”

“Yes, well,” a small smile broke out on her face. “This was something that I thought needed it. It’s very important.” She took a long inhale before looking to the neck that was straight in front of her. Maybe if she isn’t looking into those intense eyes, it would make things easier. “Geralt, you are important. To me. You have been for the past five years. But, more than a friend. I know that this jeopardize everything, and I’ll leave if you want me to but-.”

“I’d never ask you to leave. Do you want to leave?” Her eyes found his again, and sadness turned the amber to liquid.

“N-no! I meant that if you’re uncomfortable with my affections towards you, that I would leave. I wouldn’t want to make you suffer with someone you don’t want to be around.”

“Your affections towards me?”

“Yeah. I… Geralt, I have come to love you.” Y/n let her eyes close, and her head fall. Geralt’s movements had stopped, except for his hand that cupped the joint of her neck.

“I can’t promise to know what love is, but I’m certain that this is what I think it feels like. I know I can’t… express things, but I know that I care for you more than I’ve cared for anyone before.” Wide eyes met his own, and he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. “If you would have me.”

“Yes. Yes, of course I would.” He started to lean down, trying to give her time to back out, despite professing her own love. Geralt was aware how difficult he was at times, but he also knew that she was a rare happiness in his life. His heart seemed to be at a normal human rate whenever she’s near. Her scent had become something he was addicted to. Waking up without her aroma became foreign, and unwelcome. Her soft, caring gaze was something he saw whenever his eyes closed.

Their lips connected, noses brushing against each other. The witcher seemed timid, Y/n pushing into it further to show she wanted it. Wanted him. To have and to hold, till death do they part.

[lilywoood]

Small Bump 6/?

Happy New Year y’all, I promised that I’ll give you next part of Small Bump early and here it is, at first I wanted to post it at midnight (my time) but I wasn’t satisfied with what I wrote, it was missing things, so after a lot of modifications I’m happy to offer you as a new year gift this new part, I hope y’all like it, and I hope 2020 would be the best year for y’all, that you’ll get everything you want and more ♥️♥️

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Words count : 1418

Song : Dust to Dust - The Civil Wars

Eddie hated hospitals, he hated the flashing lights and white almost greyish walls, hated how their white immaculate color were long gone, he hated how it reeked pain, despair…Death.

He hated the insistent machines noises, hated the comes and goes of nurses, hated the closed off doctors face, hated the patients relative, hated hearing them beg and pray, hated to see the hopes, the wishes slowly fade away, hated how he’ll see them entangle theirs hands, how he’ll witness the acceptance, the impending end, how a single drop would fall of their eye, how they would shake the doctors hands, hug them sometimes, thanks them, how they’ll put on a brave face.

He hated the fake brave face, he hated how he could recognize them, hated how he could understand them, he didn’t want to understand them, he’d never wanted to be one of them but it seemed that Fate in its own twisted way enjoyed to make him suffer, make him beg, make him pray…

—————————————————————--

He looked so small, so fragile despite his 6’2ft, he looked so pale, so sick and tired, he only noticed now, noticed how tiredness, stress and probably pain marked his baby face, how he looked way older now, how even if his eyes closed he could notice the loss of what was left of his childlike innocence.

The room was small and suffocating, the yellow lights accentuating the paleness of his skin, the beeping of the machines, the parasites echo of conversations outside, it was too much, he couldn’t handle it, couldn’t accept the reality of things, he couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d been confronted to a similar situation, couldn’t forget Shannon pale skins, couldn’t forgot how her eyes was closed, how he couldn’t see the light in them, it was the same now, even if the machines were beeping, even if Buck’s chest was rising and falling, even if he knew he was alive, doubt was still there, messing with his head, poisoning his mind, keeping him from holding the younger man’s hand, keeping him from touching his small bump.

—————————————————————--

He couldn’t stay in the room any longer, he was feeling the rage, the pain, the betrayal in his core, he was angry at Buck, angry at the world, his hands were shaking, his heart beating faster by the minutes, he felt like chocking, felt like crying and screaming bloody murder, it was unfair, why was Fate so unfair with him, why did she enjoyed making him miserable, why did she had to take it all.

His legs were on autopilot now, he knew he’d left the room, knew he was walking straight outside, he knew he’d fallen to his knees, knew that the rain was wetting him, hiding his tears and muffling his screams.

It was as if a whole have been dug In his heart, as if by hiding that new, that secret, Buck tore it apart, stumped on it and gave it back there after…

—————————————————————--

Maddie was the one to found him, funny how she was always the one founding them, the one fixing them, the one listening to them.

He was in a terrible shape, broken beyond repair, in tears punching the ground again and again until his knuckles were covered in blood, until she stopped him, until she held him, until he finally allowed himself to let it all out.

-Why didn’t he told me, he demanded his voice small and hoarse, we are supposed to have each other’s back, he shivered, we’re…we’re family aren’t we, he asked Maddie after she guided him inside.

Maddie didn’t know how to answer him as she herself didn’t really know, didn’t really grasp why her brother had the need to hide it from people, from those who mattered the most, she stood silent, holding Eddie a bit tighter, comforting him, reassuring him, trying to convince him and by the same occasion herself that everything would be okay, everything was going to be alright.

-I should have stay, he croaked broking the silence that settled between them, his shoulder were slumped, his damp hair sticking to his face, how I wanted to stay, he chuckled meeting her eyes for the first time.

-Why did you leave then, Maddie wondered, why didn’t… why didn’t you stay, she insisted still holding him despite the rain falling on her too.

-God Maddie I wanted to, he sniffled, I wanted to stay, he croaked, wanted to fall asleep and wake up in his arms, he chuckled, wanted to see his morning face, wanted to hear is hoarse voice, he took a deep breath, I wanted to stay, he breathed looking ahead.

-Why didn’t you then, Maddie softly repeated, still he didn’t answer only turning his gaze toward the busy road ahead, you can’t tell me, she nodded understanding Eddie’s sudden silence.

-I want to tell you, he nodded, but he deserve to know first, Eddie sighed raising up and holding his hand for Maddie.

—————————————————————--

He didn’t remember if it was a dream or reality, didn’t know if it was his lips he tasted or just a memory of them, if he was a ghost or if his touch was really giving him goosebumps... all was dark around him, he could hear people screaming and running around, he could feel their touch, could hear their distress.

His head was heavy, so heavy and loud, everything was painfully loud around him, he could hear ushered voices, and beeping sounds, could feel light burning his face, could feel how blinding they were, could tell that opening his eyes was going to hurt, he felt and hear everything around him except the wavy movements in his belly.

The soothing and calming movements of his small bump, he felt panic and dread course through his blood, he remembered, remembered the car crash, the smoke, the hysteria, the blood, the four little drops of blood at his feet…

He needed to wake up, needed to make sure everything was okay, needed to go to the hospital, needed to tell Maddie, needed to tell Eddie…

—————————————————————--

The lights were blinding, too white, too yellow, burning his iris, keeping him from seeing anything, he closed and opened his eyes five times just to get accustomed to it, he felt someone holding his hand, the held was lose but still, he felt fingers interlacing with his, felt the person thumb tracing circles on his left hand skin, it was relaxing, hypnotizing even making him want to go back and sleep, but he couldn’t go back, he didn’t want to go back, he had to make sure that everything was alright

He wanted to believe that Maddie was the one holding his hand, that she was the one being tender and loving, he wanted, needed her maternal comfort, needed to see that it was just a scare, a false alarm in her eyes, he didn’t find her when he opened his eyes, it was her light brown eyes, but darker almost black ones, sad and broken dark eyes.

He saw the sorrow, the sadness, the raw pain in them, his hands immediately went to his belly, he felt himself tremble, himself tear up, himself being held tightly in a reassuring way, he heard Eddie’s calming voice repeating him over and over that everything was alright, he had to make sure, he had to be sure that he didn’t lost the only good thing that happened to him…

-The doctor says that it was just stress, Eddie croaked, everything is alright Evan, he added caressing his jaw, everything is fine, he breathed looking down.

-You know then, Buck whispered grabbing Eddie’s hands, you know, he repeated brokenly.

-I know, he repeated not meeting the blond eyes, you should’ve told me, he sobbed distancing himself from Buck, you should’ve told me, he repeated over and over again letting himself glide along the wall in a huddled position, you should have told me, he echoed shoulder shaking.

Buck was frozen in place, he felt the tears streaming slowly down his cheeks, felt Eddie’s pain, felt his sorrow, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t find the force in himself to go forgive, forget, comfort the older man, even if his heart was yearning for the comfort of Eddie’s embrace, even if all he wanted, all he needed was to feel whole in his arms, he couldn’t shake the emptiness he’d felt after he woke up cold and alone the morning after.

[darlinrogue]

He encounters Adam in a secluded area of the backstage, and he knows, instantly, that something is wrong. (After years apart, he still know him better than he knows himself.) What is wrong, Kenny doesn't know—until he approaches Adam and notices the damage: bruises and bloodied knuckles. Adam was never one to fight without reason, and he hasn't changed much, if at all, over the years. "Did something happen?" At Adam's doe eyes, Kenny, bristling, speaks with more conviction. "Who did this."

I Wrote This Title During Dynamite So I Don’t Know What’s Happened Yet, But I Hope Kenny Doesn’t Do Anything Really Stupid

Kenny and Adam for @ofgrief​

Adam brought the plastic bottle to his lips and spat-out blood. He choked and coughed, chest racking, clearing mucus from his raw throat. The cold floor seeped through his pants and he shivered. Wedged against the wall, Adam sat alone, knees curled to his chest. Sweat clung to his shoulders and bruised ribs, chest flushed crimson red. The silence of the building grated on Adam’s last nerve and muddled with his pounding head. The crowds had dispersed thirty minutes ago and the ring crew were packing-up for the night. The arena was quiet, emptying, and Adam would wait another hour before he escaped. It was safer that way, on his own.  Adam spat into the bottle again, the taste of iron at the tip of his tongue. With his thumb he checked for all his teeth. He smeared the residual spittle and sanguine onto his hip.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. The cadence of a soft heel, ring shoes, a wrestler walking at quick pace. The pattern dug at his heart, he imagined the long stride long, a one, two three, familiar from his old dreams, and more recent nightmares. The plastic water bottle crumpled beneath Adam’s grip. He studied the grout lines. Adam hid his bruised face and bloodied lips behind the arch of his shoulders. The footsteps stopped and the person hovered a few feet away, their shadow cast on the far wall. Adam ran his fingers through his hair, a small pet to soothe his raw nerves. Another shiver rolled through his spine. 

“Did something happen?” The scratch of the voice took him by the throat and throttled him. Adam’s bottom lip trembled, he ran his hand over his eyes, and forced himself to look-up. 

For six years in Adam’s memory Kenny Omega had been twenty-four years old. He was lean and thin, bones as delicate as a bird’s leg. His hair spun gold on Adam’s pillow in the morning, tight curls tangling around his placid, sleeping face. The thin wisps of a patchy beard, soft under Adam’s hand as he traced Kenny’s angular jaw with a reverent touch. Adam would turn over in bed first and run the callous of his thumb over Kenny’s pink lips. Then, kiss him awake. Kenny’s eyelashes batted against his pale cheeks and Adam loved the sky in Virginia, but he loved the pure blue of Kenny’s irises more. Those mornings, they’d shower together and wash each other’s hair. Breakfast and coffee at Waffle House as they plotted their route for the day. Adam would take the first shift and Kenny would sing to Anime OSTs from shotgun. That night, in the ring, Kenny was a maestro, and sometimes Adam would forget to make the tag because he was too busy marveling over Kenny. He was Adam’s favorite wrestler, even in his too small, ugly neon blue trunks. They’d fell asleep past midnight in a pile of tangled limbs in their cheap motel suite. With Kenny’s head on his chest, over the heart he owned, Adam didn’t know where he started and Kenny ended. 

Adam never let himself wake-up from these recollections because the next morning Kenny was gone and the bed was cold. 

But he did have to wake-up, and brought to the morning light, gold rusts, and now Kenny is thirty. His cheeks filled-out and the stubble is a full-beard. Powerful muscle broadened his chest and shoulders, laced his arms, and each time Kenny flexed in the ring, Adam lost his breath. Dark shades hid Kenny’s eyes most days and he wore leather coats like mantles. He dyed his hair silver and black, but in recent months his curls bled blonde. All of the same mannerisms of the old Kenny stayed in-tact, but more exaggerated and poignant. The flutter of his hands. How he brought his thin fingers to his chin to think. The hint of a smirk playing at his lips, or the confident swagger of his walk. Yet, a little more jagged and unclean, less pristine than how Adam remembered him. Bigger too, and bigger in a way that twisted Adam’s gut with terror. 

“Jesus, how much do you think Kenny Omega weighs now?” Some guy had mused in the locker room earlier. Adam had laced his boots a thousand times but for the first time in the past few hundred, his fingers slipped. 

“Two-hundred, two-ten, maybe,” some other guy mused. “But as far as the office is concerned, he’s two-twenty no matter what the scale says.”

Adam had tied the knot, grabbed his vest, and left. In the ring he eyed-up his opponent as the announcer billed them at two-hundred-twenty-one pounds and thought he looked about Kenny’s size. He won the match with a lariat and in the post-match interview declared he kept his promises from March after his third succesful defense of the IWGP Heavyweight Championship. This was his belt and anyone who wanted it could pry it from his cold dead hands. Snarled into the camera and barred his teeth like a viscous hound. Adam left the media room and halfway to the back, a hard object collided with his left cheek. It was a right fist and after the party of assailants finished kicking his ass, he collapsed to the floor to lick his wounds. Instead of a mean dog, Adam was a dejected, kicked puppy, cowered in a corner, whose ex was about to throw him a pity fest. 

“Who did this?” Adam repeated, that was such a stupid question, his voice rasped. He leaned back and pushed his head against the wall. He laughed and his chest seized, pain interwove with his ribs. Something was bruised, or broken, or cracked, it just hurt, he wasn’t a doctor. “You mean? You don’t know?”

He spat again and blood stained the floor. Adam reached below him and dug his fingers into the floor to find purchase. Leaned against the concrete behind him lifted himself up and to his feet. Adam wheezed and the corners of Kenny’s lips pulled downwards. Kenny stepped forward, hand out-stretched and his fingers brushed against Adam’s elbow. Adam flinched, and he stumbled back, his arms hooking around his waist like a shield. He pressed his shoulder into the wall and closed his eyes. The ringing in his head subsided and the pounding faded.

“Of course, he didn’t tell you,” Adam growled, and the smile on his mouth was fleeting. “That’s rich, that’s— fuck, I knew they were using you. I knew it all the way back in July when you stepped-up on that damn apron like a good little dog.”

Kenny reached for him again and this time Adam let him— because he used all his kick-outs in the ring earlier. Kenny pressed his palm against Adam’s cheek his touch warm and soothing. His fingertips traced the edge of Adam’s tender bruises. A sigh, soft and giving, escaped Adam’s chapped lips. He closed his eyes and took in a shuddering, stuttered breath. He leaned into Kenny’s hand and let Kenny take some of the weight off his burdened shoulders. 

“Tell me who did this to you, cowboy,” Kenny repeated, and dark malevolence dripped off every word but the last. When he threaded his other hand through Adam’s disheveled hair and let his thumb glide over the angle of Adam’s cheekbone, the touch was tender. Fuck, he knew all of Adam’s weaknesses.“Tell me, and we’ll take care of it.”

All Adam could do was laugh. “No, no you won’t, you’re not going to do shit.” He shook his head and chuckled, snarled at Kenny with bloody teeth. He yanked himself away. Smacked and batted Kenny’s hands away.  “It was your faction, the Bullet Club, that kicked my shit in. AJ Styles and the Good Brothers attacked me, you dumbass. They jumped me right after my match like chicken shit cowards.”

AJ looked so pleased with the IWGP Heavyweight he lost in his hands. He smashed the gold against Adam’s face and dropped it like lead to the floor. The belt still laid, scattered somewhere further down the hall

Kenny’s brow lifted beneath his glasses. His lips parted and then his teeth clacked closed. Kenny placed his hands on his hips. Beneath Adam’s scrutiny he fidgeted and wilted, but didn’t give. He ducked his head to his chest and then looked back up at Adam. Kenny worked his jaw like he was chewing on gristle. 

“But that’s okay,” Adam growled. He stepped in closer to Kenny but on his terms this time. Adam wavered, his balance uncertain, he had to swallow to regain his equilibrium. He jabbed his finger into Kenny’s chest, “Because you can deliver a message for me. When you see AJ, later? Tell him I hope he liked the taste of my fist in his mouth. He can attack me from behind, bring the whole Bullet Club to beat me up, bring an army if he has to, but if he wants the gold around my waist—” Adam moved his hands over his midsection to indicate the IWGP belt— “He’s going to have to step in the ring again eventually and this time, he’ll have personally. Pissed. Me. Off.”

Adam shoved Kenny’s shoulder but the pitiful thrust did nothing but make Kenny rock back on his heels. Standing a hairs breadth from Kenny, drawn to what height he could manage, Adam imagined melting Kenny’s glasses with his glare. So, that Adam could see Kenny’s eyes and the imagined fearful tremble he hoped to inspire. A failed effort as a pinch of pain in his ribs almost doubled him with groan. The last of his adrenaline dissipated and a wave of nausea washed over him. Adam reached for the wall and swallowed bile. 

“They’re not going to get away with this, Page,” Kenny assured him. His voice a low whisper, like this was a secretive promise. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’re not going to do shit,” Adam barked. He coughed again and turned his chin into his shoulder. Gallows had almost put his foot through Adam’s diaphragm and probably rearranged a couple internal organs. He had to step back, reach for the wall to steady himself. “Go ahead, confront AJ, get your shit rocked too! No, you’re going to duck your head and be a good little boy just like you’ve done for the past eight months. I know you and you’re a fucking coward— me or the Bullet Club merch money, we both know which you’ll choose.”

“Adam—” And for all the years Adam had known Kenny, he never heard Kenny say his name like that. 

The vitriol in Adam’s words turned like a double edged sword and cut back into him. Poisoned by his own concoction of anger and hurt, speaking to Kenny like that tasted bitter. At first Adam built the divisions and weight classes of New Japan as a mountain between them. With each pound Kenny put-on he traversed the distance. Then, Adam laid barbed wire and tangled thorns, inscribed signs with cruel warnings he never kept. Never daunted by a little blood Kenny pressed through and all Adam was left with was regret. If his bad attitude didn’t deter Kenny then Adam’s final contingency was to turn tail and run. He took the first step, back to his hotel, back to the airport, back home, back to his dog, and his empty bed. 

Instead, Adam’s knees wobbled and the walls dislodged, spinning the room in wild angles. He collapsed against the cinderblocks and his legs gave beneath him. Instead of a hard collision with the floor, an arm wrapped around his waist. Kenny hooked his hand on Adam’s back and pulled Adam against his chest. Adam softened, tension running from his sore muscles and his bones leaning against Kenny’s bones. A content and amused chuckle rolled though Kenny’s shoulders. His warm breath tickled Adam’s ear as Kenny swept sweat soaked curls from the back of Adam’s neck. Trembling hands tangled in Kenny’s jacket and Adam realized they were his. Kenny smelled of leather, sweat, citrus, and him, just so distinctly Kenny, it made Adam’s heart ache. One vertebrae at a time Kenny trailed his fingers along Adam’s spine. Explored each ridge and bump of his back. All the new scars that marred his skin since their last night together. 

“Yeah, I got you, cowboy,” Kenny murmured. “You big, handsome chunk of hunk, I got you.”

“I hate you,” Adam muttered into Kenny’s throat. Kenny giggled and that vibration warmed something deep in Adam. 

Kenny pulled Adam’s arm around his shoulder, his hand wrapped tight to Adam’s hip. With small encouragements, he cajoled Adam into walking with him. He even stooped to pick-up the title and hand it back to Adam. It reminded Adam of when they’d stumble home from parties —Adam sometimes more tipsy than he should be— and Kenny would complain about how ‘fat’ he’d gotten. He referred to the easy muscle Adam packed on as his frame as he filled-out from lean adolescent to a full grown man, in his early twenties. That, despite being the same age, Adam weighed, twenty, thirty pounds heavier than Kenny. Now, there wasn’t a word of complaint as Kenny dragged them through the halls. He carried Adam like he weighed nothing. Adam could feel the strength and power in Kenny’s chest, shoulders, arms, and legs with each step. Kenny was much bigger and much stronger, and that terrified Adam. 

Kenny guided Adam into a locker room without any observers. The locker room was empty except for a gear bag thrown against the far corner. In the full privacy of the walls, Adam wilted. He collapsed onto a bench and his head fell into his hands, the air leaving him with a sigh. Kenny closed the door and Adam almost begged him to open it again, so they wouldn’t be alone. Instead he fought off another flash of nausea and cursed the day AJ Styles was born. While Adam devised plans of torture, Kenny riffled through his gear bag. He pulled out a bottle of water and cracked it open. Kenny took the first sip and then offered the bottle to Adam.

“Drink something,” he ordered.

“Fuck off,” Adam growled. Yet, somehow the water bottle was in his hands. 

“Be good, Page,” Kenny sang. He pushed to his feet and approached Adam. Kenny ghosted his fingers along Adam’s jaw. Adam captured his wrist in his hand but the grip lacked bite, so Kenny laughed. There was something proud in Kenny’s eyes when Adam took the first drink. Adam swished water between his teeth and washed away the taste of blood. It was like Kenny had won. Like, Adam had just admitted defeat. “There, that wasn’t so hard? Take these.”

Kenny gave Adam two Advils and Adam took them with a generous swig of water. Adam leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. He swiped his thumb over his mouth. Accepting that as an answer, Kenny shuffled off and searched through his gear bag again. The pattern on the carpet floor fascinated Adam. If he could draw his thoughts it’d be like a scribble with a dying pen. Kenny appeared in Adam’s line of sight, kneeling and looking-up into his face. He took Adam’s hand in his and Adam flinched. He attempted to snatch his hand away but Kenny tightened his hold. 

“I’m just making sure you don’t get an infection, you idiot,” Kenny snapped. He giggled to himself, “it’s not like I like you or anything.”

Adam settled and Kenny upturned a bottle of disinfectant onto a cotton ball. He dabbed the cotton to Adam’s bloodied knuckles and Adam jumped with a hiss. Kenny held firm and cleaned both of Adam’s hands. Adam watched him and how Kenny’s thin fingers wrapped around Adam’s broad palm. He remembered holding hands with Kenny and walking down town avenues, caring too little about the world around them. His heart thudded and Adam trembled again. Kenny tossed the bloodied cotton balls into the trash. With a wet rag he wiped sweat and blood from Adam’s face and chest. Then he handed Adam a change of jeans and t-shirt.

“I won’t look, I promise, well, not unless you want me to—” Kenny said with a sly grin. A look from Adam sobered him and he raised his hand. “Okay, okay, scout’s honor. I have to get dressed too, anyway.”

Adam turned his back on Kenny. He slipped out of his ring pants and traded it for Kenny’s jeans, which were a little tight for him. As Adam tugged on Kenny’s shirt —something Anime themed— he glanced over his shoulder. Kenny pulled cargo shorts over his ring gear and shrugged on a plan white crewneck. Adam’s cheeks flushed hot when Kenny caught him staring. Then, Kenny lugged his bag over one shoulder and Adam over the other. Kenny helped Adam find his gear bag in another locker room and carried that out of the arena too. They stumbled out to the curbside, where traffic criss crossed the roads and neon lights illuminated the black city night. They waited for the cab, a marvel for pedestrians to gawk at, Kenny gripping Adam’s hip and Adam unable to let go either. 

They sat on opposite sides of the cab, as far apart as the small car allowed as it weaved city traffic. The engine, horn honks, Kenny talking to the driver in quick Japanese, the city bustle, blurred in Adam’s head like a discordant song. He pressed his cheek to the car window and Kenny shook him awake when they arrived at the hotel. Bearing both bags and Adam, Kenny took Adam to his room. While Kenny put down Adam’s bag, Adam used the bathroom and slid out of Kenny’s jeans, leaving him in his boxers. He washed his face, stared into the mirror, and was shocked to see Kenny still there when he came out, peering over the cheap art on the wall. Adam tossed the jeans in his hands on top of Kenny’s bag where it sat in the main walkway. He blinked, eyes heavy, and grumbled something incomprehensible as Kenny pulled back the covers for him. Adam slipped into the bed, the mattress conforming to his aching limbs. Adam pressed his face into the cool pillow and closed his eyes, sighing softly in relief. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Adam grunted. He flipped onto his side, turning his back on Kenny. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Hmm, that face is too pretty to see all busted-up,” Kenny replied. In another life Adam pealed back the blanket and invited Kenny to his side. This would be the perfect night to cuddle Kenny and persuade him to be big spoon for once, Adam could pull some very persuasive puppy eyes— Instead he buried his nose into the pillows like a petulant child. “Aw, you’re so cute— Sleeping beauty.”

Adam turned over in bed and with a burst of energy he snatched Kenny’s wrist. Kenny’s lips parted, his hand stiff underneath Adam’s. 

“Don’t pick a fight with AJ,” Adam growled. “He’ll—”

“Oh, is that concern?” Kenny interjected, the question was mocking. He leaned forward so the front of his thighs leaned against the mattress. Now he was teasing,“Are you worried about me?”

“Shut-up,” Adam snapped. “Get the fuck out of my hotel room.”

Kenny smirked, and pulled back. Adam released his hand and turned back over onto his side. He packed the pillow underneath his head and the light clicked when Kenny turned it off. “You can keep the shirt.” Kenny laughed, high pitched and haunting, his footsteps receding towards the door. 

Adam swallowed hard and he clutched the pillow. Don’t leave, please, don’t leave. He almost rose from the bed, kicked aside the blankets, and screamed. He could beg Kenny to stay, for just one night, please. He didn’t care about the morning or whatever the hell came after, or if Kenny loved him. Let him pretend, let him be delusional and weak, with Kenny curled in his arms. Just one night and he’ll never ask for anything again. Instead his aching body and fragile mind betrayed him. He remained curled in the security of the blankets and the darkness held him safe as the latch turned. 

“Adam, when you wake-up in the morning—” Kenny’s said. He paused, and Adam could feel the hesitation curl his lips. Yet, he couldn’t imagine Kenny’s eyes beneath those shades. “No, I’ll text you.”

The door closed and Adam curled into himself. His legs pulled to his chest and he buried his face in the pillow. Adam’s hand fell to the shirt he’d forgotten he was wearing. Soft cotton bunched under his grip and his muscles tightened but he lacked the strength to rip it. Instead, Adam pulled the collar to his nose and he breathed in deep: leather, sweat, citrus, and him. The memories rushed him. Kenny whining, stretched across the blankets and pliant under Adam’s hands. Kenny the first time he kissed Adam, shy and sweet at the end of a show. Kenny and Adam throwing each other through suplexes in the ring until they were bruised. Kenny— and Adam snapped beneath the pressure.

 The realization that Kenny was moving-up to the Heavy Weight division.

The realization he was wearing Kenny’s shirt because he intentionally forgot to give it back. 

The realization that he was still in love with the man who left him six years ago.

Adam cried, deep racking sobs that shook his shoulders and pinched his ribs. Tears dampened his cheeks and he bit his palm to suppress the pitiful noises that escaped him. Adam devolved to weak hiccups and soft whimpers, until he turned on his back, his eyes squeezed shut, desperate for sleep. Unconsciousness eluded him for hours as the last ten years played out like a silver screen in the forefront of his mind. And only when he admitted that he didn’t know what he was going to do besides kick the ass of anyone who tried to take his title —because living for the next fight was how he survived the past his sixteenth birthday— did he wake-up to burning sunlight and a text message, the next morning. 

["You alive?”]

Adam, with the headache of a lifetime, every single muscle in his body screaming in pain, and uncertain if the pop in his back was a good thing, replied: 

[”yes”]

[anboringday]

Tracey x Franklin: Just Friends

Summary: Tracey De Santa, a college freshman, has a crush on the most popular boy on campus, Chad Dillington. Determined to win his heart, she turns to her best friend Franklin Clinton for help. However, she never expected to start developing feelings for her best friend instead...

Word Count: 5.8k 

Tags: Fluff!! And more fluff!! Slow burn. Friends to Lovers. (Post Ending-C)

Read on Ao3 

Franklin barreled through the door of my room.

Carefully applying my eyeliner in the mirror, I glanced at him. Chiseled jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, a frown marred the space between his arrogantly shaped brows. His strong, muscled arms wired tight beneath his white T-shirt, he stood at the ready for battle.

His cognac-brown eyes searched my room from top to bottom for unknown threats. “Tracey? You good?”

“Um, duh. I’m always fine.” I returned my attention to my makeup. “I’m gonna need you to tone down some of that masculinity. It’s totally uncalled for, super distracting, and it’s ruining my good vibes—”

His warm hand came down on my shoulder. I stiffened, his eyes shrewd and accessing as they bored into me. “You sent me a text saying that you were dying, that you needed my help. You sure you good?”

His voice was soft, filled with concern. My gut kicked. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent that overly dramatic text, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed help. Badly. Dad was always busy doing movie director stuff, Mom was too preoccupied with shopping and yoga, and Jimmy was a complete idiot, so Franklin was the only person I could rely on.

It’s been that way for months. He picked me up from school, assisted with my homework, helped me take selfies for Bleeter, talked me through every one of my frequent mental breakdowns—he was a life saver, literally. Because he was so selflessly awesome, I decided to keep him around. Mostly because he did stuff for me, but he also had a nice personality to boot.

And we looked hella good together. Whenever we were out and about in the city, people would stop and turn their heads to gawk at our beauty. I was a celebrity after all, the sexiest girl in Los Santos according to my Bleeter stalkers. And Franklin was powerfully built, dark-haired with stunningly amber eyes. He was a man who looked absolutely gorgeous just about every day of his life. It seemed effortless for him, and I would’ve resented that if weren’t besties.  

I confessed, “I lied to get you here, okay?”

“Tracey…” Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You scared the shit outta me, girl. What were you thinking—”

“Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” I hugged him.

The tension in his muscles relaxed beneath my touch. I took his hand and flopped down on my bed. He sat beside me, our fingers intertwined. “A’ight, Trace. I’m here now, so what’s going on with you?”

“I have news,” I smiled. “The best news. You’re not gonna believe this, but Chad Dillington asked me on a date!”

He stared at me, his expression blank.

“Well?” I tapped his shoulder. “Say something! Aren’t you excited for me?”

“Who the fuck is Chad Dillington?” he asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Energy thrumming through me, I jumped to my feet. “He’s like the hottest, most popular guy at my university! He’s a quarterback for the football team, a committed member of the Alpha Omega Theta Pi—”

“The Alpha Omega what?”

“It’s a fraternity, Frank! Chad Dillington is a big effing deal, literally every chick on campus wants to bone him. He has the prettiest blue eyes and the cutest smile ever.” I twirled on my heels. “I can’t believe he chose me of all people to go on a date with. This is so, like, amazing!”

“That’s cool, I guess.” He shrugged. “You called me over here just to tell me that?”

“No! If there’s any hope in winning Chad Dillington’s heart, I’ll need support. Your support and guidance, in particular.”

His brows furrowed. “Uh…why?”

“Because you can help me understand him! Guys know what other guys are thinking, right? You and Chad have so much in common too. You’re both around the same age, you both like getting sweaty at the gym, you both like getting high—”

“No offense, Trace, but me and that preppy ass frat boy ain’t got shit in common. I’m sorry, but I’m finna pass on this one. Maybe one of yo’ friends at school can help you.” He stood and took off for the door.

“Wait!” I swerved in front of him, blocking the exit with outstretched arms. “You’re right, there are some stuff you and Chad don’t have in common. Like, for example, he’s way smarter than you and his parents are filthy rich.”

Franklin glared a hole into me, a muscle in his jaw twitched. Yikes. Probably shouldn’t have said that.

“But you’re sane,” I complimented. “Sensible, wise beyond your years, and levelheaded. You’re playing with a full deck, Frank. That’s a rarity in Los Santos, you know? Everyone here is crazy.”

“Including you,” he snapped.

“But you love me.” I hugged his muscled arm. “You’re like the ping to my pong, the yin to my yang, the butter to my bread, the chocolate to my milkshake…”

“That was cute until you mentioned the part about chocolate. Now it’s weird.”

“Frank, you have to help me!” I pleaded desperately; my mouth set in a pout. “I’m your best friend, you can’t abandon me when I need you most. It’s not fair! I’ll hate you forever if you do—”

He smothered my mouth with his palm, silencing me. “Fine, I’ll help you on one condition. No more whining and crying like a damn baby, it’s embarrassing. Makes my ears bleed, it’s horrible.”

I smacked his hand away. “Deal. Now shut up and listen.” Standing on the tip of my toes, I spoke quietly into his ear. “Chad invited me to a masquerade ball. It’s a top secret, invitation only party the fraternity is hosting at some old, underground speakeasy—”

“Girl, why you whispering?”

“Because it’s a secret. Mom and Dad can’t know about this, they’ll freak out. Promise me you won’t tell them. You know how overprotective they are, they never let me have any fun.”

“It’s all good, relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Swear on it.” I rose my pinky.

“I promise.” His finger curled around mine. “So the most popular douche bag motherfucker in school invites you to an invitation only masquerade ball…”

“Could you refrain from calling him a ‘douche bag motherfucker’, please?” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, all the cool kids are gonna be there. The party is happening this weekend. Friday night. I only have two days to prepare. This is so short notice, I haven’t even picked out a dress.”

“Hey, you could always cancel.”

“No! A date with Chad Dillington is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I can’t back out now. I have to do this.” My stomach grew queasy and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I paced the room, my fingers laced taut until my knuckles turned white. “What if I screw everything up? What if he doesn’t like me?”

Franklin appeared in front of me. I jerked to a halt, riveted to the spot as his searching gaze burned into me, glimmering with golden flecks. Lost in the intensity of his eyes, something shifted in the air between us.

As he stared back, he changed…as if the impalpable wall he kept between us began to chip and splinter. His tough, guarded demeanor crumbled before me, revealing a soft vulnerability in his eyes. A tenderness I had no clue he was capable of.

He patted my shoulder and squeezed lightly, affectionately. My skin tingled from the warm, steady pressure of his touch. “Of course the frat boy is feelin’ you,” he said softly. “He’d be crazy not to.”

My cheeks heated. Since when did he become so flattering? “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I mumbled.

“Nah. I mean it.” He reached into his pocket for his phone and started tapping away at the keyboard.

I peeked at the screen. “What are you doing?”

“If you’re going to a ball, you gotta know how to dance.” He pulled up a Bleeter video of dancers clad in silk doing the Waltz. “Think you can do that?”

“Uh, I dunno. Last time I tried to slow dance with a guy was at high school prom. I slipped and twisted my ankle in front of everyone. Super embarrassing.”

“Let’s make sure you don’t trip this Friday, a’ight? We can practice together.” He propped his phone on my desk and took my hand in his, the other rested on the small of my back. “You ready?”

Our eyes locked, I nodded weakly, my breath coming in short and fast. The contact was electric, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him—like a magnetic pull that grew harder to reject by the second. He started moving, his strapping body gliding across the carpeted floor with confidence and easy rhythm. Jeez, when did he get so good at this? He was a natural! My knees wobbly, I followed his lead to the best of my ability.

I felt so small and insignificant in comparison to him, my movement stiff and awkward. And it didn’t help that I was petite, barely over five feet, and he was huge—a tall, deep brown slab of solid muscle and well-exercised strength. The force of his presence was difficult to ignore in a crowded room, and doubly so in an enclosed place like this, so close to me…  

After a few beats, the heat of his direct, prolonged gaze became overwhelming. I lowered my head shyly.

“Chin up,” he instructed, tipping my head upward with a gentle push of his thumb under my chin.

Sucking in a harsh breath from the mind-boggling intimacy, I lost my footing and tripped over my own feet. He caught me in his arms just before I collided with the floor, his strong-featured face hovered over mine. Hit with all that striking masculinity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned. His beard was well-groomed, complimenting the hard lines of his square cut jaw, and his lips were like the icing on the cake…the fullness gave his rugged good looks the perfect touch of sensuality.

He helped me to my feet. “That wasn’t part of the dance, Trace.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Pinching my lips together, I kicked a tube of old nail polish across the floor. “I’m never going to get this right. I’m so screwed.”

“It ain’t the end of the world. You still got time. Don’t give up, girl.”

“I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.” I sighed. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. There’s a lot of pressure on me and I’m taking it out on you.”

“It’s all good. I’m used to you being bitchy. I’m used to the screaming temper tantrums—when you beat yo’ fists against the floor and your legs start flailing like a fish outta water …” He grinned.

My stomach dropped. “It’s not funny.”

His laughter quickly faded. “My bad.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Twisting a finger around the hem of my blouse, I broke the quiet. “I’ve been working on my temperament with Doctor Friedlander. Do you think I’m getting any better?”

He leaned against the wall, his hands tucked casually into his jean pockets. “You haven’t had any episodes recently.”

“Because you calm me down right before I snap. Every time.”

“So why are wasting stacks on therapy, then? You’ve been seeing a therapist for what? Years? And you were still having panic attacks until…”

“Until you came along,” I completed his sentence. “I don’t want to become so dependent on you, Frank. It’s like, totally unfair to you.”

“Shit, I don’t mind. I ain’t going nowhere, unless you want me to—”

“No!” My heart lurched at the thought of losing him. Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I took a careful step away from him. “You wouldn’t leave me. You’d miss me too much.”

He stared at me for a moment, silent and thoughtful, his brow quirked.

I tensed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh, no reason.” He lifted the brim of his black Los Santos snapback to scratch his head. “I should probably bounce. It’s getting late, and you got class in the morning.”

“Wait.” I passed him his phone and gave him a brief good-bye hug. “Do you think you could give me some guitar lessons after school tomorrow? Music class is kinda kicking my ass. I could use the extra help.”

“Yeah. Of course. No problem.” He chuckled, seemingly nervous for some reason. “I ain’t the best with the guitar, but uh, I know a few things so…”

“Are you kidding? You’re way better at it than me.”

“Slightly better.” His teeth gleamed in a smile. “A’ight. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.”

I was a little bummed about him leaving, but he was right. I needed the rest so I could wake up bright and early tomorrow. I returned a smile. “Bye, Frank.”

“Bye, Trace.” He turned to leave but stopped at the door, his gaze shifted to me. “By the way, you don’t have to lie to get me here. You ain’t gotta send no dramatic texts or nothin’ crazy like that. If you need to see me, whatever the reason, just…call. I’ll be here in a heartbeat.” 

A pang struck my heart. I swallowed deep, fumbling for words. Before I managed to find my words, he was gone.

With a heavy sigh, I collapsed on my bed. What was the matter with me? Why were my brain cells starting to fry around Franklin? I had a huge date planned with Chad Dillington, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about my best friend.

My phone vibrated on my nightstand. I grabbed it and found two new texts from Franklin.

Still thinking bout how tripped over your own damn feet earlier.

Girl, you clumsy.

Oh my god. With an embarrassed grin, I texted him back; Wow. You sure know just what to say to boost a girl’s confidence :P

He responded a minute later. What if I told you that I like when you’re clumsy? I get to pick you up whenever you fall.

I read the message with wide eyes and then powered down my phone, my nerves danced wildly in my stomach. There was an ache in my chest, and I rubbed at it. Jeez. Pull yourself together, Tracey…

Read more on Ao3

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 14

Warnings: cursing, little editing, brief descriptions of violence

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: AND WE’RE BACK SURPRISE!! Seriously though, I feel horrible that I haven’t been able to update in so long - I was doing so well at first with the weekly updates and then it just kind of...stopped. Things got difficult. Sorry. But here we are, keeping things going with this fic! I’m excited! As always, feedback is appreciated! 

There’s something heavy across her waist when she wakes up.

She shimmies, trying to dislodge it, but the firm pressure only tightens when she does. Something warm snuffled at the back of her neck, the feel of soft whiskers scratching, and it’s - oh.

Bucky.

A little thrill shot down her spine - still does, even after these last few weeks. He’s only spent the night a couple of times - and the two of them remain somewhat clothed - but still. Her heartbeat picked up as he sighed again, breath coming hot along her neck.

She couldn’t shake this feeling, this nagging little notion, that she’d gone zero to 60 the moment she met him; in spite of the fact that they were taking things slow, something her trust issues and his gentleman’s upbringing insisted on, her brain felt like she was on a high-speed roller coaster, white-knuckling as she hurtled along the tracks awaiting the inevitable corkscrews and hairpin turns that would make her stomach drop.

Of course, with roller coasters, it helped if you had someone’s hand to hold.

She wiggled again in Bucky’s grip, trying to turn and face him, but he groaned in protest and tightened his spooning position. She rolled her eyes a little, patting his hand where it rested on her stomach.

“Such a baby,” she sighed, morning voice little more than a croak.

Bucky groaned again.

“‘S too early,” he grumbled, the sound muffled into the space between her hair and her pillow.

“Maybe for you,” Y/N huffed. “Some of us have jobs, you know.”

“I have a job,” he snorted.

“Oh yeah? Besides being a sexy biker?”

She heard his low growl rumbling before he quickly rolled to put his weight on top of her, his fingers wiggling into the soft flesh at her sides. She squealed and bucked under him, trying to escape, but he was too heavy to dislodge and she was way too ticklish to let him keep torturing her.

“Okay! Uncle! Uncle!” she cried, breathless. His fingers stilled, but his hands maintained their grip on her waist, the weight of his chest holding her down as he smiled, his face a few inches above hers.

“Hi,” he stage-whispered. His bed-head was in full disarray after his tickle attack, random strands fluffed out in different directions and hanging in front of his eyes. She blew a puff of breath past her lips, amused at the way he wrinkled his nose as the wayward hairs waved back in his face.

Good morning,” she smiled back, still catching her breath from the assault.

He leaned down for a kiss - a morning kiss, soft and tender, a small taste to break the night-long fast. The tip of his nose traced the length of hers.

“Still too early,” he hummed, lips working their way across her cheeks and nose and eyelids.

“Mm?” she hummed back, eyes closed.

“You know it’s Saturday, right?” he half-chuckled, nuzzling down into her neck. “Don’t have anywhere to be for a while.”

She peeked one eye open, a suspicious smile tilting up one corner of her mouth.

“I know that voice,” she bit her lip. He didn’t answer, leaving his face in its hiding place at her neck. “What are you planning, Barnes?”

“Somethin’ you’ll like,” he grinned, hands sliding down to the hem of her t-shirt.

“More like ‘something that’ll get you past second base’?” she teased. No matter how she played coy, though, her body couldn’t repress a shiver at his touch, fingers slowly climbing the skin under her shirt.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey.”

His head popped up and he gave her a sly wink. Surprised laughter sputtered from her lips, soon cut off by a firm kiss, his own laugh pressed into her mouth.

They didn’t get out of bed for a while that morning.

**********

Natasha dug in her pocket for an elusive piece of bubblegum she knew she had stashed there. It was becoming frustrating - the pocket was only so big. Maybe she put it on the other side?

The diner she was waiting in - Lakeview family restaurant - was the only decent place to eat in the next town over. A cup of black coffee, half-finished, sat on the table in front of her; she’s had two refills already and knows she should stop -

There it is.

Fingers grasped the missing bubblegum and wiggled it out from her jacket pocket. She popped it in her mouth with no hesitation, crinkling the wrapper and letting it fall to the table.

Another glance at her watch. She’s never known him to be late.

She had been disappointed, but not surprised, when Y/N didn’t take the deal. In fact, she acted like their conversation never happened - diving headfirst into this fling with Barnes, the two of them apparently believing this could somehow...happen at all. A happy ending, a real life? The secrets were stacked against them, Natasha knew. Barnes knew, too, but she suspected he was thinking somewhere lower than his brain in all this. He had been from the moment the good doctor moved in across the street. And the rest of the gang seemed all too happy to welcome her into the fold, ignoring the very inconvenient facts about their real identities, their jobs, their presence in this town. It could’ve gotten her killed. Almost did.

Which was why Nat only trusted one head in the group - the one on her shoulders.

She was doing this for them. They’d understand, maybe not at first, but eventually. And even if they didn’t, she could live with their anger. Better than their blood.

It’s taken a few weeks to get things in order, but she had finally made the call. Clearly, extraction was the best case scenario for the team now. The longer they lingered on this job, got comfortable with Hydra’s silence after Rumlow’s death? She didn’t want to play those odds.

A bell dinged above the diner door. She didn’t turn, refolding the gum wrapper in her hand as the booted footsteps approached slowly, quiet on the tile floor. She didn’t even look up when he wrapped his knuckles once against the table, before sliding into the booth across from her.

“Romanoff.”

“Fury.”

“Been a while,” Nick Fury raised his good brow as he leaned forward to prop his elbows on the table.

“Well, you know how it is, Nick. Busy with work,” she smirked drily.

The waitress returned, pen at the ready, and Fury requested a coffee and whatever fresh pie they had that day. Whipped cream on the side, please.

“You know, my doctor tried to convince me to try going keto,” he said conversationally as they waited. “Something about keeping my blood sugar steady.” He shrugged. “Decided I didn’t hate myself enough to do that.”

Nat rolled her eyes a little, unable to hide her small smile. She had missed Nick. But this, the chit-chat, the minutiae, was never what they were good at. People like them were rarely good at small talk.

“So.” He turned the skewered bite of apple on his fork, gliding it through the whipped cream before taking a slow bite. “I understand you have a proposition for me.”

“I do.”

He pursed his lips, nodded, never lifting his eyes from his plate.

“Then let’s hear it.”

**********

They were slipping.

Rogers. Barnes. The Avengers.

From what they can tell, the self-righteous pricks are too far up their own asses to see what’s been going on. No one saw his men tailing them on every run. No one noticed their movement in the shadows of the town, the palms they greased, the eyes that looked the other way. Nobody was looking when their numbers doubled in size, weapons making their way through with the new men. It all hummed under the surface, dry winter air nearly crackling with the static.

Any day now, any moment - all it would take was some friction, a spark, to light the whole thing up. Burn the fucking Avengers to the ground.

Which is why he was very careful to avoid such friction. No contact - that was the rule. Keep your head down, mouth shut, do what you’re told, and don’t start shit. All the men knew, and they were scared shitless of the boss, so they obeyed. But they were restless, he knew. Itching, jumpy, knuckles cracking. They wanted a fight, and he wouldn’t hold them back much longer.

No, not much longer now.

He knew an old friend of the boss would be passing through today - on to the next town over. Better head that way if he was gonna get to the rendezvous point on time.

**********

“I put together this team, you know.”

“They were already a unit when they were deployed in Afghanistan-”

“Yeah, yeah but I hand picked them all for this assignment,” Fury waved her off. “And now you’re telling me I made the wrong call?”

Nat sighed through her nose.

“I’m not saying they’re wrong for the job, but they’ve been out here for a long time and…” she glanced out the window at they highway just beyond the gravel parking lot. “To be frank, Barnes is compromised and the rest are content to let it happen. They need to be pulled out of the field to regroup. Period.”

“Mm.” Nick sipped his coffee. “And this has nothing to do with your...history with Barnes?”

“Don’t patronize me, Nick. I’m a damn professional, not a child. You know that better than anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

They stared at each other across the table for a moment - Nat with her arms crossed, a deep line between her brows. Nick seemed content with a hand wrapped around his coffee cup, empty plate scraped clean of crumbs and whipped cream pushed away from him on the table.

“I trust your judgment, Romanoff,” Nick finally sighed, draining his coffee. “So what’s the move here?”

“Simple. Call it in, move on the evidence we have to clear Hydra off the streets, and send the team home for debrief,” she shrugged. “We’ve got more than enough to keep these guys put away for a little while - long enough that we can come up with a long-term plan and pump them for more intel on Hydra’s shadier business deals. Gotta be a weak link in there somewhere.”

“You gonna get ‘em to talk?”

“Somebody always talks.”

“Okay,” Nick nodded. “It’s far from the worst idea you’ve ever had. But I’m gonna have to make some pretty important phone calls. Probably have to go all the way to Pierce on this one.”

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” Nat tilted her head to one side. “You can salvage this whole operation before it goes south - now tell me that’s not worth a little bit of groveling to your boss.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one having to do it.”

“I don’t beg, Nick,” she smirked. “You know that.”

He huffed, shaking his head.

“Oh, I know.” He rolled his good eye as he started to shuffle out of the booth. Natasha stood up too, readjusting the jacket around her shoulders. The sun was just starting to slip beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the parking lot outside the window. Her bike sat next to his sleek black SUV, the only visible vehicles parked on this side of the building.

Fury gave her a long look as he patted down his pockets, leaving a sizable tip for the waitress tucked under his coffee cup. Nat refused to meet his gaze, standing with her arms crossed, green eyes scanning the room. The other patrons at the cafe paid them no attention, as they slowly walked to the door side-by-side, Nat’s boots clicking softly on the tile floor.

“You don’t need to worry about this, Romanoff,” Nick sighed, pushing through the door first. The little bell above the door announced their departure. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m not worried.”

He stopped at the door of his car, good eye sliding sideways for a glance at her. She was already straddling her bike.

“You’ll be hearing from me soon,” he waved, almost drowned out by the roar of her bike starting. He laughed under his breath, humorless, nostalgic, as she revved the engine a moment before throwing up gravel under the tires as she peeled away from the diner. He tried not to be irritated about the paint job on his car - already streaked with mud from these unfamiliar roads.

The highway was nearly deserted, nearly dark, as he started the long drive back to the city. Romanoff might not be worried - though he suspected otherwise - but Nick certainly was. It wasn’t like her to pull a stunt like this, and it wasn’t like his hand-picked team of Avengers to get sloppy on the job. And then there was the sudden silence from Hydra in the last weeks since their ringleader’s death; his team, and his higher ups at the agency, had always known there was someone else, a hidden hand pulling strings, but could never quite get the bastard to show their face. And now, when they all could feel something building like a wave, about to crest, Nat wants to pull the team out.

He shook his head. Too much to think about and a long drive ahead. His hand reached for the radio dial, searching past country stations and bluegrass stations and the lonely pop station - he settled on gospel, surprising himself. But it made him think of his mother, so he left it there. Flicked on the headlights, and then the high beams, showing him nothing in the darkening night besides the road stretching ahead and the now-empty fields, nearly flooded from last week’s rain.

After a while - could’ve been an hour, could’ve been 20 minutes - he heard them in the distance, that distinct roar of engines. His ears pricked; they were coming from behind him, the direction of town. Maybe Natasha changed her mind? Maybe the rest of the team was offended he didn’t drop by and they were going to haul him back to the compound for a barbecue.

Maybe he’s become one of those goddamn idiots who’s dumb enough to believe in luck.

When their headlights came around a curve a quarter mile behind him, he was nearly blinded by the sheer number. The noise was nearly deafening, and he flattened his foot against the accelerator, mentally calculating the miles between towns. Too far in either direction.

That was when he saw the group coming towards him, too.

With a steady stream of curses under his breath, he dialed Natasha’s phone number. The phone rang, twice, three times - he glanced over and saw that two of the bikes had pulled alongside him, riders covered head to toe in black leather, white skulls painted on their helmets.

“Motherfuckers,” he hissed. A jerk of his steering wheel, just a threat, and they braked a little, backing off. But there were three more directly behind him, not to mention the ones further back and up ahead.

“Come on, Romanoff-”

“Nick?”

“Natasha - we made a mistake, they’re moving now-”

“Nick, what are you talking about? What’s going on?”

The two bikers had pulled alongside him again, speeding up and slowing down to stay just out of his reach. One of them reached over to his hip, raising an arm right at the car-

The pop of the gun and his front tire were almost simultaneous; the car went squealing and swerving across the road, black marks burned into the pavement, before a wild swing of the wheel sent it flipping into the deep ditch next to the highway, where it landed upside down and creaking.

“Nick what the hell just happened?”

“Nick are you there?”

“Nick?”

[thepurplebutterflythings]

Kitty Cat and Tweety Bird (Part 2) - Jason Todd

Gif: Dxnninja on Tenor

Word Count: 3.5K

Paring: Jason Todd (Titans) x (f)Reader

Summary: Jason Todd likes both sides of Y/N Kyle, civilian and alter-ego. Bruce can’t help but think there is something familiar about his new intern.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: This is a little series I am doing about Jason Todd in Titans. I don’t know Comic!Jason very well so I’m taking all of this from the show, and at the moment he hasn’t been in very often, so please forgive any mischaracterizations.

Tagging: @bella-0104-123 @ninergirl1d @httpfandxms @rosybrock @attackonnat @reclusive-chicken-nugget   @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @young-psychos @thesleepykaijuu @thescottpack @nightlygiggles @rougestorms @sinon36

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 1 | Masterlist | Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 3

________________________________________________________________

Jason loved hanging out with Y/N, both versions of her – civilian self and alter-ego. Of course, he knew Y/N Kyle was Lynx, there was no way two people in Gotham were that incredible, and he would recognise those Y/E/C eyes everywhere. He loved that she was cheeky and playful and always grinning – like the cat that got the cream! If only he could tell her that she knew she was Lynx and that he was Robin, but when Jason first became Robin, Bruce warned him to never tell anyone who he was, never put anyone in danger, protect them, so that’s what Jason did – he kept the fact he was Robin to himself and didn’t even let himself hint to Y/N that he knew she was Lynx. In fact, Jason hadn’t even told Bruce he knew who was under the mask of Lynx. It was better to be safe than sorry, he decided, and anyway Jason could deal with keeping the secret, it meant he got to spend more time with Y/N, in a sense, like now, when he was on the phone with her as she was trying to find an outfit for her first day at her internship.

“Okay, how about a blouse?” Y/N asked through the phone, “its vertical black and white stripes.”

“Y/N, I honestly don’t think Bruce will care what you wear.”

“I know,” she whined. Jason could just imagine her huffing and throwing the blouse on her bed, then pushing her hair back. “This is just so important to me – I don’t want him or anyone else to think I’m a charity case.”

“No one will think that,” Jason assured her in a gentle voice, “and so fucking what if they do?”

“Cause my whole life as always been ‘oh, you’re the daughter of a single mother who was a street kid?’ and it’s exhausting to deal with,” Y/N explained. “They seem to think that because of Mum’s background that they know me, and my mother. Mum isn’t a street kid anymore, she’s worked hard to give me a good life. Just once I want to be able to go into something without someone judging me beforehand.”

“Bruce would never judge you,” Jason said firmly, “he might be a billionaire but that doesn’t mean he’s heartless – Alfred told me that there was a girl Bruce was like totally in love with growing up who was a street kid, he took in Dick Grayson, a circus kid, and me, who spent all his time jacking cars and grew up on a barstool, there is no way Bruce will think you aren’t worth his time, and there is certainly no way he will judge you before meeting you. Anyway, all I’ve told him about you is your first name and what you’re like and how you’d be perfect for this internship. It’ll be fine, trust me.”

“Okay…” Y/N sighed, seemingly calming down, but Jason knew her better than that, he knew that she was chewing on her thumbnail from nerves.

“How’d you mum react when you told her?” Jason asked her as he laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Took a bit of convincing to get her to agree, but she’s sort of onboard now, or at least has made her peace with the fact I want to do this.”

“Why was she against it?” Jason asked. Y/N’s end went silent for a minute.

“It’s Bruce Wayne,” Y/N said carelessly, “The Womanizer of Gotham.”

“Come on, I know Bruce’s type,” Jason laughed a little, “No offence Y/N/N, but ‘old enough to be her father’ isn’t really up Bruce’s alley.”

“None took – kinda flattered really,” Y/N teased, “but you can’t blame her for being a little concerned. How many women has he left heartbroken?”

“I’ve never met your mother,” Jason said, changing the subject, wanting to stop Y/N from worrying about the start of her internship, “what’s she like?”

“Protective,” Y/N said.

“That’s a given.”

“I don’t know, Jason,” Y/N said, “she’s my mum… she’s loving, and she’s someone I can rely on, and that I know I can talk to. Hard-worker. She’s so strong, the toughest person I’ve ever known. She wants to keep me safe.”

“Your mother sounds nice,” Jason said smiling at the description of Y/N’s mother. “What’s her name?”

“Selina.”

“Selina Kyle,” Jason repeated to himself, “cool name!”

What Jason didn’t say was that the name sounded familiar to him. Selina Kyle. Maybe he read it somewhere. Maybe Alfred said it once in passing. Maybe he met her once and had forgotten, but the name was familiar to him somehow.

________________________________________________________________

The first day of Y/N’s internship was one which filled her with nerves. In the end, her mother helped her find the perfect outfit – a black dress and a blazer with flat black shoes. Armed with a notepad and a pen, Y/N waited at Bruce Wayne’s office to greet the man. She tapped her pen against the pad as she waited. She occupied herself with looking up and down the corridor, trying to spot her new boss, then, there he was.

Bruce Wayne was exactly as she imagined him to be and wearing a crisp expensive Italian suit and shoes. Bruce was about the same age as her mother was, and now Y/N knew he was Batman she noticed smaller things that many people wouldn’t – there was a scar on his chin, small and almost invisible, and there were a few grazes on his knuckles. There were other things too. Yeah, now Y/N saw it, how Bruce Wayne was Batman. He walked down the hall, talking with an executive of the company as he did, clearly not paying attention for he did not see Y/N standing there waiting for him and glided right past her. Y/N started jogging to catch up with him.

“Mr Wayne! Mr Wayne!” Y/N called as she jogged.

“Not now,” Bruce said, barely glancing at her, “busy.”

“Yes, I do understand that, Mr Wayne,” Y/N said, “but I’m the new intern, technically your assistant.”

“That’s nice,” Bruce waved Y/N back.

“And I wanted to introduce myself,” Y/N continued, “I’m the girl Jason Todd recommended, Y/N, his lab partner.”

The mention of Jason Todd caused Bruce to stop walking; the executive walked forward two more steps before realizing Bruce wasn’t by his side. Bruce turned to Y/N and walked up to her, studying her closely. He took in her hair, her face, her clothing, the manicure her mother insisted on treating her to before her first day, and her shoes. He looked at the pad and pen in her hand. He leaned down a little to get a closer look of the young woman, frowning a little as he did, as though trying to place his finger on something but couldn’t. Bruce decided it was all in his head and stood up as he smiled a little at his new intern.

“You’re the lab partner?” He stated. His voice lifted a little as though there was a chuckle in his throat. Bruce looked at Y/N again, softer this time.

“He’s told you about me?” Y/N rose her eyebrows in shock.

“Yes,” Bruce chuckled a little, “all good - I can assure you, Y/N.” Bruce turned to the executive and waved him off. The executive nodded and walked off. “According to Jason, you are smart, independent, charming, strong-willed and stubborn, and also very pretty.”

“Oh…” Y/N blushed and coughed, shocked to hear Jason’s description of her, “didn’t think he was such a sap,” Y/N faked a laugh, trying to play off her reaction. Her cheeks were still a bright red and she was biting back a small smile. It felt nice to know that Jason looked at her in such a good light, that he held her in such high regard. Bruce just looked at her and smiled, laughing to himself.

“You’re an incredible young woman, Y/N,” Bruce nodded, “I’m not surprised in the slightest that Jason holds you to such high accord.” Bruce offered his hand out to Y/N to shake, which she took. “It will be an honour to work with you, Y/N.”

Y/N was taken back at the words said by Bruce. Bruce Wayne thought she was incredible, that it would be an honour to work with her.

“Thank you, Mr Wayne,” Y/N blurted out, “I cannot wait to work with you either.”

“Bruce, please, Mr Wayne was my father,” Bruce smiled.

“Yes, sorry, Bruce.” Y/N apologised.

“Nothing to apologise for, Y/N,” Bruce waved it off. “It’ll be nice to have you around. There is something about you that reminds me of someone I used to know – I just can’t place my finger on what it is or who it is though.”

“Well, things like that happen,” Y/N said, it being her turn to wave a topic off. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about her mother, but then decided no, however, Selena did say that she knew Bruce was Batman – how could that be if they didn’t know each other? ‘Later’ Y/N thought ‘that’s a problem for later’. Right now, Y/N had to worry about her new internship, and not about her mother and Bruce’s past together, if there even was a past together.

“I have a feeling you will fit in at Wayne Enterprises very well,” Bruce assured her with a firm nod.

________________________________________________________________

“Surprise!” said a voice behind Y/N. She turned with a small jump to see Jason standing there with a large, stupidly happy grin on his face. Y/N laughed and hugged Jason, who engulfed her in his arms, swaying her back and forth before letting her go.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked him.

“Well,” Jason said, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I know it’s our lunch break so I wanted to come by and see if I could buy you something to eat, can you spare a minute?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course she can,” Y/N and Jason turned to see Bruce standing in the door of his office, looking at the pair with a faint smile on his lips. “Go and have lunch on me,” Bruce said as he pulled some money from his pockets, “I insist,” he said as he saw Jason and Y/N both start shaking their heads at the money. Bruce put the money into Jason’s hand and ushered the pair towards the lift, pressing the button and pushing the pair into the lift when the doors opened. When the doors closed on them, Jason pushed the button and they started laughing like crazy.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasped for air, “what’s with him?”

“The subtly of a blow torch, right?” Jason laughed.

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what’s Bruce been like so far?” Jason asked as he leaned against the wall of the elevator, looking at Y/N.

“Nice,” Y/N nodded, “good.” She grinned a little, “so, I’m pretty, huh?”

“Oh god, he told you that!” Jason groaned, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Y/N chuckled as the doors opened on the ground floor. She walked out and called over her shoulder as she did, “you’re not too bad yourself, Jason Todd!”

Jason blinked and stared after her, rooted to the spot for a second before running after her.

“Really?”

________________________________________________________________

Jason and Y/N strolled through the park, stopping at a hot dog cart where Jason bought them lunch – a hot dog and a pretzel each. They ate as they walked, eventually stopping at a bench and sitting down.

“I like your dress,” Jason said gesturing to her outfit. “Good choice.”

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled, “my mum and I spent ages tearing through my wardrobe trying to find something – couldn’t find anything that went with this blazer or my shoes, so Mum found this old dress from her wardrobe.”

“It’s nice, fits you perfectly,” Jason nodded. “You look really nice… pretty…”

“That’s sweet of you, Jason.” Y/N said allowing her hair to hide her face, which was turning red. Never in her life was Y/N ever this shy around a boy, but Jason wasn’t like the other boys she knew. Jason was kind. Jason was honest. Jason knew what it was to be a vigilante, even if she couldn’t tell him. Jason listened to her, understood her. Jason was a rarity in this world.

“Look, about what Bruce told you,” Jason sighed, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It didn’t,” Y/N assured him, “I like you too,” she confessed.

Jason smiled and slowly slid his hand into hers, rubbing his thumb over the back of Y/N’s hand. Y/N didn’t hide her face this time when she blushed, she met Jason’s gentle gaze and smiled back.

“So… now what?” Jason asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she said in a small voice, feeling strangely vulnerable, “but I want to know.”

“Me too.”

________________________________________________________________

“Hey there, Kitty Cat,” Robin grinned as Y/N looked up to the ledge where he was perched, watching her. Y/N rolled her eyes as Robin back flipped and landed in front of her. He stepped forward looking at her from under his fringe.

“Why are you chirping, Tweety-Bird?” Y/N teased as she drifted by.

“No particular reason,” he shrugged, jogging to catch up with her. “Just happy to see you tonight.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Y/N smiled as she looked at Robin. Her mind was screaming with joy, like a child who had just been given the present at Christmas they had been begging for all year – Jason Todd was such a genuinely good guy and all she wanted to do was take off her mask, grab him by the stupid cape and kiss him. She holds herself back though. “I like it when you drop by, Robin.”

“Oh my god,” Robin exaggerated a gasp, “Did the infamously cold Lync just say something nice?”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Y/N playfully groaned.

“No take-backs,” he said, tapping her nose with his gloved finger, “I like seeing you too,” he confessed when Y/N swatted him away. “You’re a cool chick.”

“You’re a sweet guy,” she admitted, “even if you are a bit of a pain.”

“Aw, shucks,” Robin teased, “you’re making me blush here, Kitty Cat.”

“I know, I know, I’m liquid sugar,” Y/N hit his shoulder, “so sweet I cause cavities, call the dentist.”

“Amazing how even when you’re being nice, you’re still insanely sarcastic,” Robin chuckled with a shake of his head.

“It’s who I am, Tweety Bird,” Y/N flashed a grin, “and you love me for it.”

“Yes I do,” Robin smiled. Y/N didn’t notice Robin watching her closely, smiling at every little thing she did, every time she brushed her hair back, every time she turned her head, everything she did made him smile. He was a sucker for her, no denying it.

________________________________________________________________

When Jason returned to Bruce’s side after leaving Lynx, Bruce didn’t have a chance to interrogate him over where he had been. Bruce had no clue his newest intern was a vignette, and Jason hoped to keep it that way, at least for a while.

“Quick,” Bruce said gesturing for Jason to climb into the Batmobile, “Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn are at the Gotham City Vaults.”

“Robbing the place?” Jason asked as he buckled up and Bruce hit the gas to speed off.

“No, renting a vault,” Bruce snapped, “what’d you think, Jason?”

“Alright, alright,” Jason rolled his eyes as Bruce, as Batman sped through the streets of Gotham.  “Any idea what they’re going after or just a general robbery.”

“Joker, reportedly, keeps a lot of his funds there,” Bruce explained, “and since Harley and he split and now we’ve got an alert his ex is robbing the place, I’m going to assume that those reports are right and Harley and her gal pals want a piece of his stuff.”

“Well,” Jason pondered, “why not let them? Joker’s an ass, at least those three have a bit more of a moral code than him, and well not like those two can go through divorce court to split custody of things.”

“It’s not about that, Jason,” Bruce sighed, “this could lead to two things, firstly, those girls aren’t causing problems on the street, second, this could bring us closer to taking down Joker once and for all.”

They pulled up to the vaults and jumped into action, running to find the three women, The Gotham City Sirens. The women in question were ransacking a large vault filled with jewels, gold, cash and more.

“Holy Crap,” Catwoman said as she filled her bag with emeralds and gold chains before grabbing a stack of cash and running her thumb over the edge of the money. “Why did we wait this long to rob your dumbass ex?”

“Gawd knows,” Harley called out as she pulled out a fur coat and draped it over her shoulders, turning to Ivy, her new beau, and grinning wildly, “how’d I look, hun?”

Ivy at first attempted to keep a cold appearance with a sigh and roll of the eye, but gave up quickly when seeing the grin on Harley’s face. Harley had struck a glamour pose and turned to Ivy with such a look of pride on her face for finding the coat that Ivy couldn’t resist but smile to her love.

“Just lovely, Harley,” Ivy nodded before going back to stuffing her bag, “now, quick, we don’t want to get caught.”

Harley huffed and pouted before grabbing other things to throw in her bag. Stupid police always ruin their fun, and if not the stupid police then stupid Batman with that stupid sidekick of his. Stupid people ruining their fun!

Catwoman, however, was nervous. Y/N would do anything to keep her mum and aunties safe, and Catwoman did not want her daughter to get wrapped up in her messes. Selina chose to be Catwoman, and she was prepared for the risks that came with that.

“Hurry,” Catwoman said, “they’re here.” She heard them running down the hall towards herself and her friends. The Sirens ran from the room and headed the other direction, with Batman and Robin hot on their tails. They managed to get outside of the building only to find themselves in a dead-end. “Shit!” Catwoman huffed as she looked around to try and find a way out of their trap. The three women turned around to see Batman and Robin approaching them. Selina sighed and thought of Y/N – she would be home by this time and wondering where her mother was.

“Don’t move,” Batman called. Selina met his eyes and thought of the boy she once knew, Bruce Wayne, and the promise he made upon returning to Gotham that he would never leave again – to her surprise, he kept that promise. Suddenly a smoke bomb dropped down from above and Batman and Robin couldn’t be seen.

“UP HERE!” Called a voice. Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn all peered up to see the face of Y/N in the disguise of Lynx, grinning proudly down at them, “you wanna hang around for the smoke to clear and get dragged to the police, or you wanna come?” Y/N said throwing her claw hook down for them to climb up. They all did, one by one, and by the time they had reached the top, the smoke had cleared. Batman and Robin stood and stared in shock as the Sirens dropped to the other side of the high wall and Lynx gave them both an awkward wave before disappearing herself.

“What the hell?” Said Robin, staring after Lynx and her uncharacteristic move to help criminals rather than stop them.

________________________________________________________________

“I thought Lynx was on our side,” Bruce said as he and Jason sat in the Batcave. Alfred had decided to join them and listened closely to all the conversation.

“She is,” Jason assured him, “I don’t know what possessed her tonight, really I don’t. I tried to find her afterwards to talk to her about it, but I couldn’t catch up with her – she and Catwoman disappeared together.”

“Catwoman?” Alfred frowned, “Strange pairing.”

“We’ve found Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn going on a date nights, the fact that two alter-egos who go by feline names ran in the same direction is nothing,” Jason said, although he was still confused as to why Y/N helped an infamous jewel thief escape capture when she had such a strong sense of justice. 

________________________________________________________________

“I know I was supposed to be home,” Y/N said to her mother once they got home, “but I saw a message Jason got as Robin about helping Batman capture you and I knew I had to do something.”

“Baby,” Selina took off her mask and cupped her daughter’s face, “Kitten,” she sighed, “that was very reckless, so stupid if it went wrong,” Y/N looked down, ready to be scolded, “but I am so grateful that you were willing to rescue me and your aunties,” Selina said. Y/N looked up and met her mother’s gaze, “thank you Y/N that was very brave, but please don’t put yourself in danger unless absolutely needed.”

“I won’t, mum,” Y/N promised, “I promise.”

“Good,” Selina sighed with relief “Kitten, you mean the absolute world to me, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

[zweiginator]

Good Company- Part Nine

Summary: With Queen’s first tour starting soon, you and Brian have to part ways. 

Word Count: 5.5k+

Warnings: Angst, (very) light smut

Author’s Note: Again, sorry this chapter took so long!! I’ve been super busy with school, and sadly these last two chapters have been filler chapters to get to the good stuff, so I’ve been working extra hard to make sure they’re actually entertaining. Thanks for reading and I love you all endlessly!! xoxo- em (p.s. i apologize that it’s a bit short :// and p.p.s (or is it two s’s....idk... but i finished this very late so i didn’t edit it oopsie) )

“Tour? Of where?” You asked, rubbing a shaky thumb over Brian’s knuckles. They were cold and white--numb from the nipping wind outside, one that seemed to tattoo a healthy glow upon Brian’s face. But maybe that was from your desperate kisses; you couldn’t be sure.

Brian chewed the inside of his cheek, tentative to tell you, although proud of his accomplishment; Queen had been recording for ages--waking up at two in the morning just to shimmy their way into a grueling session. Brian couldn’t remember the last time his eyes felt clear, that the usually milky whites of them weren’t feathered pink from being so bloodshot. His fingers had a perpetual ache that almost acted as a token, reminding him of how much he had done for this band. He had forfeited the once heaping, golden mass of respect his parents had for him, all for his band. And usually Brian’s cheeks would be pulled up tautly by the sheer force of this pride, this wistful triumph. But standing on the creaky floors of your flat, his hands limp and lifeless in your own, he felt ashamed. Stupid. Like he had done something  wrong.

“Here--at first.” He began, his hands finally jolting awake, as if sparked by a jarring jolt of electricity, powered solely by the paradoxical look of proud disappointment etched upon your plaintive face. “But we go to America too. A little bit of everywhere, really.”

You ran a fingernail over the protruding tendons in his hand, watching them quiver under your touch. His wrist was fragile, delicate, and beating under the ridges of your fingertips; his pulse was racing, jittering under skin that was still shedding color from the forever ago afterglow of the summer. “America? I--wow, Brian.” You were surprised. Not that you ever doubted Queen’s talent; in fact you envied the undiluted passion and skill that each member was endowed with, as if it were a gilded gift from God himself. But you had always had them there. You guessed you weren’t surprised that they had made it, but rather that they would actually have to go. For over a year, the four of them had been a constant in your life, unwavering and consistently there. You had always seen them tipsy in pubs and had them to call when your heat broke in the dead of winter. You had always had them, and they had always had you. And realizing now that the ruthless and crooked yet painstakingly straight-across path of time would separate you from them--from Brian--instead of cracked pavement and a few flights of terribly uneven stairs--was almost too much to fathom. You held your breath for a few seconds, counting in tandem with the calculated ticks of the clock hung crookedly on the wall. Maybe a brain devoid of oxygen would convince you this wasn’t real.

“Yeah--it’s quite daunting. A lot of gigs all packed into a few months. That’s the good thing--right? Only a couple of months?” He wasn’t convinced; his own question was a rhetoric to himself, persuading himself that it was, in fact, a good thing when it was starting to feel anything but.

You gripped Brian’s hand tighter, your nails digging into the skin enough for you to mutter a hushed apology. Sliding off the waxy countertop, you pressed the edge of your nail into the fingernail on his thumb, gliding it across the freshly chipped polish. “How will that work?” You mumbled, your thumb finding a haven in the divot of his knuckles. “Being with Roger 24/7? And us? What about--” You paused, not wanting to sound so blatantly selfish. But it was the question rooted upon your heads, its sticky tendrils snaking down your cheeks and pushing them down to form sullen frowns. What would happen with you and him? You both were used to everything being stationary, etched and recorded and familiar.  You always knew to take two rights and a left to get to his flat; if you wanted to call him your fingers knew their rightful path. Everything had been so natural and innate. But now, you wouldn’t know where Brian was, not exactly at least. You could look at the creased copy of the tentatively planned tour dates and guess that maybe Brian was cruising through Scotland or riding over the lush green valleys of western America. But what about the in-between days? What about when his head was resting on the shaky window on a plane, his thighs squished in the seat and more akin to a bird--unreachable and transient--than your Brian.

Brian trudged to your couch and lifted his sock-covered feet onto your coffee table, tentatively tapping the cushioned spot next to him with a tensely flexed hand. He sighed, scratching his chin, where he had cut himself shaving; but he kept picking at the scarlet red scab and it left a tiny pink scar blotched over his tan skin. “That’s--a good question. I don’t know, to be quite frank with you.” He scooted a bit to the side as you sat down next to him, his fingertips tracing secret messages into your shoulders. He hoped you could feel them, that they would seep beneath your skin and course through the high road of your nervous system and reach the most primitive parts of you-- and you would know--know that he was sorry for leaving. That he didn’t really want to--but also that he wanted nothing more than to get out. “I guess we’ll have to make up eventually; I don’t see the band breaking up anytime soon.”

You tilted Brian’s chin towards you, your finger running over the fresh stubble budding upon his face. His eyes peered down at you almost apologetically, his irises a clearer brown, so clear you wanted nothing more than to stare into them forever. But your time limit was formidable, and you had to look away; you didn’t want to get so lost within him that his absence left you completely misguided, feeling like you were just somebody completely surface-level. There needed to be something underneath, too. You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed, a small scoff choking out. “Really? Seems like you’ve come close.”

Brian shrugged, opting to tuck his almost numb feet under his thighs. “We’re both much too stubborn to let the other get what they want.” Brian said, yawning. He rubbed the top of his hands in a desperate attempt to channel some warmth under the taut skin , dotted with faded freckles. “But I guess you’ve seen that firsthand.” Shuddering, Brian tilted his head down and rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling himself into the warm crook of your neck. “Jesus, it’s so cold in here. It’s February, you know that, right?”

His voice was small and muffled, absorbed by the thick couch cushions his face was buried in. “It’s not cold. I set the thermostat to 21. Last time you slept over you woke up kicking off the covers saying it was too hot when it was about 3 degrees colder.”

Brian wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pushing his feet under your butt a little. “What?” He wiggled his toes and smiled cheekily. “It’s warm under here, I’ll have you know. Plus, that was after a gig. My body never knows how to maintain homeostasis after shows and my body temperature goes crazy every time.”

You stood up easily, leaving Brian curled up in the corner of the couch, shivering, his hands rubbing his goose-bumped forearms desperately. The tip of his nose was a pronounced red like the uneven blotches upon his cheeks. “Want a blanket, Brian? The really fluffy one is clean.” You held a light blue plush blanket from a small woven basket by the front door. Brian’s clogs sat askew on the floor, teetering on their sides as you walked over the cold wooden floors.

“Yes, please. I don’t know why I’m so cold. My teeth are literally chattering.” He tensed his jaw slack and rolled his shoulders back, enough so his collarbones sunk into his creamy skin as you shuffled back over to the couch, the blanket tucked in hand.

You plopped down next to him and draped the blanket over his shoulders, watching the soft fabric slide over his hair, bouncing some extra-defined curls of his that fell upon his sloped shoulders. “I guess you’re always a bit cold.” You reasoned, pulling the ends of the blanket closed so he was in his own little cocoon, sitting cross-legged on your couch peppered with permanent streaks of cigarette ashes, the constant remnants of your and Roger’s relationship weaved into the very heart of your home, inescapable and almost unbearable. But Brian was there now. Just for now. And you didn’t want Roger to taint and scratch the cloudy shell of your hourglass; you could already hear the sand tinkling through the narrow middle.

___

You and Brian had fallen asleep on the couch midday; you remember your eyelids fluttering closed, your cheek pressed against Brian’s steady heartbeat that slowed as he drifted into a comfortable slumber, his own cheek smashed against the textured cushion underneath him. That was at about three in the afternoon, and now, waking up, you noticed how the yellow shower of the late winter sun was long gone, replaced with the bright sliver of a crescent moon, glowing between the pulled blinds and projecting over Brian’s peaceful features. You rested your chin on his chest, effortlessly relaxed by his breathing that was lulling you into a hazy in-between state of being asleep and awake. His mouth was parted, his cheeks patterned with marks from the couch that ambled into more shallow indentations around his eyes, closed loosely. His feathery eyelashes laid against the very tops of his cheekbones, flitting across the delicate skin as his eyes moved rapidly beneath silky eyelids, sheathed in a pastel shade of lilac from the tiny capillaries, just below the paper-thin epidermis.

Brian shifted beneath your touch as you traced your shaky fingertip over the slope of his nose, admiring how the light shone across the smooth skin and highlighted the angular bridge that complemented his face so flawlessly. Your finger ran over his cupids bow, tracing over a fine patch of stubble that was germinating above his upper lip. It was rough, dark, hair that matched the beginnings of some facial hair peppered around his prominent jaw. He looked beautiful like this--completely ethereal and tranquil--like all that mattered were his breaths, warm and fanning over your chin. Like he wasn’t worried in the slightest bit, not about leaving or plane rides or fights with Roger. In that moment, he was just Brian. There were no obligations, arguments, or meaningless bouts of un-vowed silence. There were many moments within your and his ever-budding relationship where you didn’t know what to say to make it right, didn’t know what to do to take back something you wished would have remained unsaid. There seemed to always be a trail of eggshells wherever your relationship with Brian went, and watching him sleep beneath you, his hair fanned out on the velvety pillow that was halfway off the couch, reminded you of why those eggshells, although fragile and monumentally inconvenient, were important. Were worth it. There was something rewarding about being with Brian, knowing how much it had taken to be his, all the fateful stepping stones floating upon the riverbed of reality that assured to you both that maybe it was meant to be.  

Brian’s eyes opened slowly, his eyelids lifting and falling almost in sync with his shallow breaths. The glint of the moon left little moons of his own pooled in his pupils, reflected in the puddles of honey that were his irises, drenched in a hue on the cusp of hazel. The reflections rippled as his cheeks lifted into a small smile, his canines poking into his lip as he stretched his arms out.

“G’morning.” He rasped, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. He extended his legs a little and groaned as he stretched the muscles, tingly from laying in such an awkward position for hours on end.

“Good middle-of-the-night.” You kissed his sternum lazily, ruffling his hair as he yawned, blinking the excess sleepiness away from his eyes.

“God--how long have we been out?” He asked, sitting up slowly, holding the blanket to him to keep warm; he was still cold despite his many layers, a blanket, and a very warm girl laying on top of him.

“About twelve hours.” You turned a small analog clock towards him; you kept one on the couch for the many fleeting guests you and your roommates always seemed to have.

Brian squinted, his eyes still adjusting to the blackness of the night, faded a deep grey by the moonlight. Sure enough, the tiny slivers of the clock were ticking timely to three in the morning. “Well shit, what are we gonna do? I’m not tired at all--I’m the opposite of tired.” He rested on his elbows, his jaw twitching as he yawned again.

“So you’re awake?  That’s what that means.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, running your thumb over his cheek. “But I know what you mean. I am the opposite of tired too. Mega-awake if you will.”

“Mega-awake..that’s a good way to put it. But another thing.” Brian swallowed holding a hand up and smacking his lips together dramatically. “I’m mega-hungry too. My stomach is eating itself alive.”

“Oh no,” You retorted, pulling a small curl by his ear as he sits up all the way, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling, stained with splotches of water that fed into one another, lined by a thin brown rim that differentiated the aged stains from fresher ones. “What do you want to eat, bub?”

“It’s a little late--or early--to get food.” Brian clutched his stomach, opting to lean forward to soothe the sharp pangs in his gut.

“I mean, we’re in London, we can find something.” You reminded him, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. He sighed, tilting his head back to grant you access to the elongated column of his throat. “Someone wants kisses.” You mumbled against his jaw, your arms snaking around his neck. He moaned feebly as your tongue dragged over his bottom lip with concentrated langour. His kisses were sleepy and slow; his tongue hurried and uncoordinated from the sleepiness stagnant in his veins, but he was fueled by passion--by knowing you and him wouldn’t be together for much longer. That you couldn’t be together. Brian remembered this mid-kiss and grabbed your shoulders, pulling away slightly, although you had a firm hold on his hoodie, your thumb cooled by the metal ring near the hood.

“Shouldn’t we--talk? About tour?” Brian’s hands rubbed over his pants nervously, and he tried to focus on the texture of the thinning denim on his palms instead of the saline tears pooling in his eyes. He was right--it was the quite significant elephant in the room, seemingly perched upon your laps, and oddly, it was your close proximity with Brian that was making the topic fester in your minds, despite how easy it would be to speak up, to say what was begging to be said. “Do you have any questions? Are you as scared as I am? Because I’m terrified to leave, and you’re being--”

“Strangely calm?” You interjected, cocking an eyebrow as you smoothed Brian’s hair down; it was amazingly messy and frizzy from his position on the couch, and a few curls stood up haphazardly on his head. “I guess I’ve been avoiding it ‘cause I don’t want to admit you’ll be gone in--” You paused, realizing you hadn’t been attentive enough to ask when he was leaving, or when the tour started.

Brian sensed what you were getting at, his eyes averting to the canary yellow clock still ticking away on the coffee table. It was now a bit past three, and Brian wanted nothing more than to stop it altogether--to plead with the Gods, with whatever higher power was forcing the world to move forward when he wanted so badly for it to just stand still. He clasped a hand over his sternum and let out a shaky sigh. “Three days. The first show is on the first of March.”

“The first of March?” You confirmed, running your pointer finger down the middle of Brian’s soft palm, tracing the length of his long middle finger. “You’re leaving in three days?”

“Yeah--it was very last minute. Mott The Hoople needed someone; I guess their other opening act backed out a few days ago.”

You paused, furrowing your eyebrows as you scooted closer to Brian, squeezing his hand as your fingernails traced over his own painted ones. You watched a layer of the white polish cling to the couch. “So you leave in, what, 72 hours, and you haven’t packed at all?”

Brian gasped dramatically and fluttered his eyelashes, his fingers splayed over his warm chest. “You’re supposed to be crying because I’m leaving, not helping me go.” He huffed facetiously and turned away from you, pulling the blanket from your lap in the process.

“Okay, drama queen. Well you need to pack, and we’re going to do that, right now.” You yanked the blanket from Brian and he pulled back on it so you fell onto his lap snugly.

“If we wake those sleeping monsters up they’ll break our bones and spit on us.” Brian cautioned,  biting nervously on his thumbnail.

“Fine.” you offered. “But later I’m helping you pack so you’re not miserable during our last few days together.”

___

“How cold could it possibly be there in spring?” Brian inquired, his chin angled downwards awkwardly, so he could hold a wire hanger up as his arms gathered a plethora of t-shirts, hoodies, button-ups and stage costumes--as many as he could possibly shove into his charcoal suitcase, laid open on his bed. Socks and boxers lined the bottom of the case, rippled over the metal columns of the handle that fed into the suitcase like a makeshift spine.

You were picking through his jackets and coats, thumbing over fur and suede material as the haloed rays of the afternoon sun began to shimmer over Brian’s curls. “In America? Well, I’m sure they have cold days too. You do know you’ll be visiting different regions, right?”

“I suppose you’re right.” He stuck his nose up, waddling to the bed and opening his arms, letting the sea of clothes in his arms tumble into the suitcase.

“I know I’m right. And you’re the one who’s been shivering since last night; you should be thanking me for thinking of future Brian, I’m sure he’ll thank me when you’re nice and warm in New York.” You quipped, shoving some shirts back into Brian’s arms as you folded a few crisp button-ups and smoothed them over one another.

“I don’t wanna think about future Brian ‘cause he’ll be gone.” Brian said, sitting on a nest of velvet trousers and long, navy blue jeans.

Standing up, you kicked a loose hanger across the floor and sunk your knees on the bed, straddling Brian, coaxing him to lay down, as his hands found your hips instinctively. “Then let’s focus on present Brian.” You ran your hand down his chest, feeling the ridges of his ribs from beneath the t-shirt he was donning, a white ringer with a carmine red around the sleeves and collars. Your thumbs traced over his collarbones as your lips found his throat, sucking and kissing along the tender skin near his bobbing adams apple

“This isn’t packing.” Brian gasped out, holding the back of your head, guiding your kisses upwards until your tongue dragged over his protruded bottom lip, a bit chapped and tasting of overripe grapefruit. You ground against him a bit, pulling his arms from your waist to hold them above his head, where a small bag of his toiletries laid, the plastic bottles clicking against each other as Brian’s head turned to the side.

“Then should I stop?” You teased, peppering soft kisses on his mouth. Brian rolled his eyes and puckered his lips, poking his tongue out to lick the tip of your nose playfully as you leaned forward.

“Now I never said that.” He breathed, pulling his arms from your grasp and returning them to their rightful place on your hips, and then down over the curve of your ass. “But just know that Roger could walk in at any second, and he would probably kill us--just with his words.”  

You pulled away from kissing him and sat up slowly, lifting an eyebrow at Brian as your fingers fumbled with the brassy button of his jeans. “You don’t seem too apprehensive.”

Lifting his hips to aid your undressing him, he scoffed. “I’m not worried about that anymore. Plus I learned how to lock my door.”

You slid his jeans off his legs, palming his cock through his briefs. You felt a tingle course through your veins as you watched Brian’s head fall back as his mouth opened, a deep moan reverberating from the hollow of his throat. “Consider this my parting gift to you.” You spat in your hand as Brian quickly rid himself of his underwear, throwing them into the mass of clothes spilling from his closet door, barely ajar. You slowly slid your wet palm down his shaft, tightening your grip and allowing your other hand to fondle his balls attentively. Your palm rubbed over the head of his cock and he sighed pleasurably, a lazy smile forming on his peachy lips. “Yeah? That feel good?” You cooed, grinding yourself along his outstretched, shaky thigh as you twisted your hand around his cock leisurely, watching his pre-cum leak from his slit.

“Mmhm. Christ--I love you.” Brian moaned breathily, his hips thrusting upwards as you pumped him in your hand, his lip tugged tight between his teeth. “‘M gonna miss you, baby.” He groaned from deep in his throat, his hips beginning to buck up with every turn of your wrist.

“I love you, Brian. I’m gonna miss you so much.” Tears trembled through soaked lashes as you watched him come undone. Running your thumb along his weeping slit you choked out a cry, but Brian’s eyes were screwed shut as he desperately fucked into your hand.

“You’re so--good. I love you so much--” The sheets rippled as his fingers pulled at the airy linen, his chin angled upwards from the position of his head, thrown back from rushing fits of pleasure. Hearing your muffled cries, Brian’s eyes opened, his hand enveloping over your own, splayed on his upper thigh. “Are you okay?” He followed a strand of your hair, still drying from the downpour outside; you still heard the rain veiling cold windows over the rustling of the sheets.

“Yeah, yeah.” You assured. “It’s finally real. That you’re leaving.” You added, your hand still pumping slowly at Brian’s cock. Flushed a healthy rose, Brian’s jaw stretched, his lips a brimful of lust-blood, kept wet under a thin coat of his saliva.

Brian’s eyes kept contact with your own, even through his erratic blinking; his eyelids felt burdened, impossible to keep lifted. “Just for a few months. Just remember that it’s only for a bit.”

“A bit?” You ogled. Over three months couldn’t be labeled as anything remotely close to ‘a bit’. Loosening your grip on Brian’s cock completely, you squeezed his upper thigh gingerly, feeling the peach-fuzz run over your fingertips. “Sorry I ruined the mood.”

Brian denied your apology, shifting to rest on his elbows. “You didn’t ruin anything. You don’t owe me anything, angel.” He held the middle of your forearm, the callus on his middle finger thrumming over your skin. You watched the remainders of his arousal migrate down his neck in the form of a scarlet flush.

Your own fingers followed the crown of his head, threading through deep chocolate tendrils of hair before following the curve of his jaw. You felt bad you had stopped touching him, but his features looked plenty blissed-out, just laying with you atop his messy bed. It was cold from a persistent lack of use, but Brian’s presence seemed to light his bedspread aglow with a sustained comfort that lulled you both into slumber, one that enabled the repression of the longings manifested on the tip of your tongues, still doused in one another.

__

Two days later, the wilted poppies on Brian’s front stoop seemed tired of the winter’s oppressing toll on their pride; they stood tall, almost well-postured although their petals crackled in the wind, their natural red dulled into an oxidized rust that matched the rims on the van parked in the alleyway just around the corner. Brian sat with you on the curb, his back hunched as his neck craned downwards, almost shamefully.

Feeling the edge of his collarbone protruding from his shoulder, you broke the tangible silence between you. Really, everyone was silent; Roger, Freddie, Deaky and a few roadies who looked much too young to be leaving home--were leaning against the exposed brick, the outside wall of where so many memories were formed. Where your concept of love molded itself and proved to be so effortlessly malleable from your switch from Roger to Brian. The others watched you and Brian intently, almost looking for confirmation that you both were breathing.

“Are you going to be safe?” You asked. “And not stupid?”

Brian rolled his eyes but the playful nature was overridden by a few tears spilling over his cheekbones.  “Of course I’ll be safe.” His voice cracked, his thumb following the expanse of skin from your wrist to your own thumb, quivering under his touch. Rain began to patter over shackled roofs and you could feel the space between you widening, even as he pulled you to his half-exposed chest. Time was fizzling in your ears, a sand falling through abysmal gaps between your fingers, still intertwined. Cupping your cheek, he sighed, his thumb rolling over your ear as his lips parted, his tongue searching for yours desperately, as if to make sure you were still there. You tasted salt as a tear tumbled over his top lip.

“I love you,” You whispered, over the chimes chirping over your heads. “I’ll see you soon.”

A flock of pigeons squawked overhead. “I love you more.” He said. “See you soon.”

__

Brian laid across the backseat of the van, half-awake from the uneven gravel roads Roger was driving across; he had erratic intervals of driving at a plausible speed, and then he’d bend his foot forward on the gas until they all inevitably lurched from their seats as he slammed on the faulty brakes.

“Do you think you’re over her?” Deaky asked, bracing a hand on the dashboard, squished between Roger and Freddie, who was resting his feet over the leather of the tattered armrest.

The wind combed Roger’s waved hair as he puffed on a cigarette, burnt almost to the butt. “You know, I think I am. I--I love her still. You know?” Roger ashed his cigarette in a foggy glass tray in the cupholder.

Deaky nodded, stifling a yawn. His legs hurt from being folded underneath him for the past few hours, and he loathed Brian for getting the backseat to stretch his legs out. Plus, they figured he would need the first few days on the road for the purpose of sulking. “I understand that, Rog. It hasn’t been all too long.”

The conversation was bleak; they had been on the road for a little over four hours, and hadn’t seen anything more substantial than spotted horses roaming freshly thawed fields, the occasional chipped red barn. Brian wasn’t asleep anymore; truthfully, he had never faded into slumber, not even the hazy, rolling car-sleep he could usually get on the road.

“It’s about time.” Freddie added, picking at a black nail, chipping around the edges. “Did you see that goodbye? They’re the real deal, I’m afraid.”

Nervously lighting yet another cigarette, Roger bit his top lip, tasting a tinge of metal, the taste of stale smoke. “You think so? Or do you just think he’s better for her?” Freddie turned away for a second, contemplating. It was true--Freddie did believe Brian was a much better fit for you, that it just worked between you two. That there was something natural about the way your conversations flowed from the chambers of your synchronized hearts and not the forces of the environment around you. Roger sort of agreed.

“Of course I think he’s better for her.” Freddie scoffed. “I love you Rog, but you cheated on her. Full-on cheated--not even, like, a little hazy cheating.”

“God, I know. Maybe that was for the best. Brian’s happy right?” Roger asked, genuinely. For the first time in months, acceptance was in his realm of possibilities. “I mean, shit, not now, but in general?” Brian hid a smile behind his sleeve as Deaky fiddled with the dials of the radio. Freddie slapped his hand away when The Beatles came on.

“I think he is.” Deaky nodded, folding his hands over his lap. “Christ, he was fine with the idea of having a kid with her.”

Roger shuddered. “Yeah, fuck that. I love that girl to death but no fuckin’ way.”

Finally, their weary eyes began to see grey marinas, darkened by the fading glow of dusk. City lights shone through windows cloaked in acid rain, and Roger turned the radio up, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

__

Brian felt well-rested as he slung his guitar over his body, his fingers stroking over the leather strap flush against his collarbones. The angelic stage costume he had grown accustomed to was much itchier than he remembered it, and he scratched mindlessly at his neck, where a silver chain sat over the protruding tendons. The second gig of the tour was set to start at eight, but that time had long passed, and he knew the thirty minute delay was just show business. For some reason, this delay was symbolic of success; no longer did the foursome have to haul their instruments in their own cars and spend entire days assembling drum kits just to pull them apart a couple of hours later--except with a few drinks in their over-aroused systems.

“Do you think the crowd is about the same as last night?” Freddie, despite his eccentric and commanding stage performance--was nervous. He had been since they had left a couple of days before; he knew this would aid in their big break he had been envisioning for them since he sketched the Queen logo in a coffee shop two blocks away from their apartment, now abandoned.

“I’d say a bit less,” Deaky said. “But Aylesbury is a smaller town; so pretty similar proportionally.”

“Thank god for your nerdy interjections.” Roger quipped, his third cigarette of the hour dangling from his lips. He didn’t voice it, but he was nervous too. They all were; the crowds seemed utterly enraptured by them but also completely confused. Freddie insisted they didn’t understand the music, Roger uncaringly added how everyone probably just thought they were gay.

Ken, a roadie, peeked his head around a corner, untangling some amp cords that had been severed from so many people stepping over the once durable lines. “Okay, they fixed the light fixtures and the bass amp is all good. Break a leg, kids.” He winked, his fingers tapping along the cracked drywall where his hand was splayed.

“Kenny, you’re barely older than Deaky.” Roger leaned forward, aiming his ashes over an opened guitar case stuffed with broken wires and busted amps.

“Your guitar tuned, Bri?” Deaky mentioned, recalling how some of his notes were sharp in rehearsals. Brian was a perfectionist, and one wrong note would hover over him for the entirety of the tour. And sensing how much he was longing for you, he thought it would be for the best to remind him.

Brian nodded, giving John a tense thumbs-up. “All good. I figured out a string was a bit thin.”

And then, as quick as they could take their next breath, tainted with heavy cigarette smoke and the suffocating, pungent adrenaline wafting through the air, they were on. Green lights faded into blues and back again as they played. To the outside eye, Queen was perfect--the embodiment and professional manifestation of hundreds and hundreds of hours of fluid practice. Inside, they looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders and hoping their glittery makeup would make clear their intentions of making a statement. Looking outwards, Brian looked good, well-practiced, handsome, and effortlessly so. Even he noticed a gaggle of girls batting their heavy black eyelashes at his alluring figure. But on the inside, Brian felt light. Lightheaded and dizzy, his fingers felt a part of a another man, a man who looked much like him. He hoped his detached fingers were falling over the right places on his guitar; all he could hear was his heartbeat becoming irregular, the blood in his body melting downwards and pooling under his feet. He saw Freddie give him a nod; it was his solo. He swallowed the discomfort and buried it in his twisting, pulsing intestines, hoping his mind could convince him that he was okay--that he felt fine.

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[mobius-prime]

201. Sonic the Hedgehog #133

Home (Part 4): Finale

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jason Jensen

As Sonic battles M and Sally and the others watch from Knothole, Eggman is shocked to find himself suddenly confronted by Shadow the Hedgehog, who has just arrived on the scene. Unlike in the games or anime, this iteration of Shadow apparently has some very… homicidal intentions.

Look at Eggman's stupid anime eyes! I know they're supposed to be glasses, but with the lenses wedged into his eye sockets like that, coupled with the inking job, he looks like he's trying to do his best kawaii desu ne to ward off Shadow's advancing edge. Speaking of which, I don't know why Shadow in these mid-era issues is consistently drawn with like, pee-colored chest fur, but it just makes him look like he hasn't taken a proper bath in several months and I hate it. Tails continues to keep A.D.A.M. distracted in the Tornado by feeding him more riddles, while Knuckles and his friends get ready along with the other soldiers to face the remainder of the swatbots advancing on their fort. Rouge offers a lift to Knuckles since he can no longer glide, and though Julie-Su is mildly jealous when he accepts, the team all charge into battle and begin to bust some swatbot heads. Sonic continues his game with M, with her blasting their surroundings left and right with her laser vision while he taunts her. Unfortunately, she learns from her mistakes better than most of Eggman's creations, and decides to aim for where he will be rather than where he is, striking him square in the shoulder.

Sally, you forgot that Bunnie is here on the scene, and there's hardly anyone around that's more badass than her! Antoine had had trouble landing the Freedom Fighter Special due to turbulence, but now that the rest of the cavalry have arrived and M is gone, Sonic can take a breather. Fiona tends to his shoulder, and while he's out of commission, Sonic orders her and Antoine to go stop the missile launch on Eggman's ship.

Yeowtch. What exactly happened while Sonic was gone, anyway? The rubble that Bunnie tossed M into suddenly begins shifting, and M bursts out in a cold fury - minus the "makeup" that made her look human, leaving only a terrifying Terminator-esque endoskeleton striding toward the heroes out of the flames. As they prepare for a fight, A.D.A.M. suddenly stops responding to Tails' queries on the Tornado, while at the same time every swatbot at Fort Knothole deactivates abruptly, leaving the crew stationed there free to do some clean-up. But what of Eggman? Is this another part of his dastardly plot?

Really, every single interaction between Eggman and Shadow in this issue is pure unintentional gold. Something about Shadow calling Eggman "daddy" while bitchslapping him across an aircraft carrier just can't be topped. Eggman manages to escape through a secret hatch in the ship's deck and slides into a submarine beneath it, where A.D.A.M. contacts him like nothing is wrong and obediently restarts the missile countdown when Eggman orders him to. Bunnie gets a frustrated Shadow to take Antoine back to shore, while she begins punching through the carrier repeatedly to sink it The missiles explode harmlessly underwater, saving both Station Square and Knothole from a grim fate. Back in the city streets, Sonic's backup continue to try to fight M, but she's still too strong for everyone combined. Sonic remedies the situation by running a ring around her at blinding speeds, which is enough to carve out a circle around her from the pavement, sending her splashing down into the derelict sewers below.

Uh, Sonic, you might want to rethink this. Remember, M dove into the ocean water just minutes earlier without hesitation to find your body - I doubt a dip in the sewer is going to take her completely out of commission. But for now, the battles have been won, the heroes return home, and a panic-stricken Sally is comforted by her mother in her room, who reassures her that Sonic is still alive. Meanwhile, Eggman, safely back in his base, rages at A.D.A.M. for costing him his victory by getting distracted by Tails' riddles, but A.D.A.M. replies quietly that he had fun with it. Hmm, I wonder if we're seeing the beginnings of a true awakening into sentience…

Mobius 25 Years Later: Midnight in the Garden

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jensen

Aaaand back to this. You'd better get used to it for now, as we have like twelve more issues of this before it finally draws to a close. Knuckles and Rotor meet in the park after Lara-Su's Unveiling has concluded, where Rotor gets right down to business explaining his and Cobar's findings, starting with pointing out the weather.

Knuckles, I kind of have to disagree with you that a sky full of constant electric arcs streaking across the horizon is "normal." Like, that doesn't look like regular lightning, it looks like some kind of electrified sky dome or something. Back at home, Lara-Su is getting ready to turn in for the evening after her party, but she's not happy that her mother isn't letting her go out with her friends after the celebration, which leads them into a completely interesting and not at all stereotypical mother-daughter argument.

Riveting stuff, isn't it? Lara-Su then for some reason tries to point out that Knuckles and Julie-Su aren't even married, which is apparently so shocking and controversial that Julie-Su cuts her off before she can say any more. They then argue a bit more about how Lara-Su will understand better "when she becomes a mother," before Julie-Su finally tells her daughter that she gets no say in what her parents think is best for her, so she'd better just sit down and shut up and accept her lot in life. Of course, it's said in a much more gentle and motherly tone, but seriously, this kind of rhetoric irks me so much. Yes, when you're sixteen, your brain isn't fully matured yet and so it's not the greatest of ideas to let someone so young make huge life-altering decisions for themselves, but also I feel like a sixteen-year-old should be allowed to do something as simple as going out to hang out with her friends at night without her mother trying to pull rank on her, for Christ's sake. That's hardly too much to ask for someone of Lara-Su's age, especially since apparently in echidna society sixteen is the "age of reason" where one is considered to have become a full adult. I get that Knuckles and Julie-Su might have an instinct to protect their daughter from the traumas they experienced at a similar age, but restricting her so much and talking down to her like she's just some silly teenager who doesn't know what she wants is way out of character for those two. Furthermore, I have to state again how much I hate that Julie-Su in this timeline is basically just the "loving wife and mother" with none of her old fiery personality shining through at all. The Sarah-Connor-esque version of her that we saw in Lara-Su's first appearance was far more like what I would imagine a 40-year-old Julie-Su to be.

Anyway, back in the park, we get a full page of nothing-dialogue where Knuckles basically just says "I don't believe you" over and over while Rotor says "No dude, believe me," but we then quickly discover that the two aren't alone in the park.

If we'll recall, Rutan is Lien-Da's son, so that's who he's planning to report to. However, I guess I'm really not following what he expects her to do with this information. I mean, okay, the world might be ending. Sure. These things tend to happen when one lives on Mobius. Lien-Da is apparently an upstanding member of society nowadays, so even if Rotor is trying to keep this information on the down-low for now, what real danger is there in Lien-Da finding out? What is she gonna do, try to accelerate the end of the world? Offer her devious, devious help to Knuckles and co.? There just doesn't seem like that big of a risk there. Anyway, all that aside, I really wasn't that interested in seeing a teenage echidna making out with a chameleon with hair today, so I think imma check out of this for tonight.