#or if I banished her to the couch which I just tried to lay on and is not really conducive to sleeping on

[wr1ter0fwr0ngs]

I hate when the 100 thousand bees take root in your chest right before it’s time for slumber!! Guys please make your honey elsewhere I’m trying to sleep!!!

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

I’m the devil

Summary: So you told Wanda your secret and you realised the intense feelings you had for the woman, hopefully she reciprocated them

Warnings: Minors DNI, feelings, and a little sappiness from both sides

Words: 2,700 (I think)

A/n: not proofread properly, I’m tired 😂

Part 1 here

Flashback

You were bored, plain and simple, bored and horny? You couldn’t tell anymore but what you did know was that being the devil on earth wasn’t nearly as fun as you thought it would be

“Nat what’s on the agenda for today?” You spun your chair to your red headed demon pal who just shrugged “I’m not your assistant”

“But you are the greatest demon assistant in the entire world!” You grinned wide at the woman who just threw her muffin at you “hey that was $7! Don’t throw expensive food”

“You-

“Wait! Shut up for 5 minutes, I found her” you pointed her towards the other side of the road where a young woman was walking to what looked like an apartment complex

“She looks weak Y/n what do you want with her? Surely just take the brother for the debt instead?”

“I tried that but they offered her up so easily, ‘take our daughter please’ don’t take our son he’s the favourite’ pathetic actually, yep just give up your young daughter to the devil, she is very pretty though, which makes this all the better, now come on I don’t have all day”

“Yes boss”

End of flashback

“That was amazing!” Carol lay back on the couch satisfied and happy “you’re way too preppy for a demon sometimes Carol, anyway I’ve go to go, can you carry on with manning the young demons while I do something”

Carol sat up pouting “can’t we cuddle?”

You scoffed “what are we, 10? I’m not cuddling you we have jobs to do, now get out I’m bringing Wanda back through here and you scare her”

“Scare her? She’s a dirty human she doesn’t matter here”

You stopped in your tracks turning back to Carol and giving her a hard glare “Carol I won’t hesitate to send you back to hell and clean up after the demon dogs”

Your threat made Carol sink back into the couch “sorry, I’ll go”

You nodded “good” leaving her alone you straightened yourself checking your phone “only been an hour, she can’t have done much damage”

You walked back through the place and to your art studio unlocking the door finding Wanda still sat where she was but now painting a sunset? It looked like that anyway, it looked beautiful that’s what you definitely knew

“I didn’t try to run away” we’re the first words out of her mouth and you had to laugh “obviously you couldn’t escape Wanda, because of you did the rest of the gang would’ve gotten you first, now come on I’m getting you some dinner”

“What are you?” It was an innocent enough question but not something you wanted to discuss on the first day, or did you? Maybe she��d listen to you, maybe submit to you? Women like bad girls right?

You simply smiled “do you really want to know?”

Wanda wasn’t too sure anymore, why were you being so cryptic “I do…I think”

You sat down in front of Wanda and took a hold of her hands “you’re not stupid, you know there’s supernatural beings on earth don’t you?”

She nodded “it’s a little strange but yeah I do know that”

You continued “okay so there’s the devil, they’re real too” Wanda rolled her eyes “pretty sure the devil can’t leave hell since he was banished there”

“So you think the devil’s a man? That doesn’t seem very feminist of you”

Wanda shrugged “god’s a man and so is the devil, that’s what we learnt at home, but either way I don’t think they’d come to earth”

You chuckled pulling Wanda and her chair closer to you and keeping a tight grip on her hands knowing how people get when they see you properly

“What are yo-what the hell?! Wanda couldn’t move as she stared at your new appearance, horns protruding from your head and your skin a deep red, some small parts of your face were showing bone as of you were disintegrating and Wanda couldn’t help but stare intrigued and a little frightened

“Are you the devil?” Her voice whispered and you nodded “in the flesh, or most of it anyway”

“Why are you on earth?” Wanda whispered still admiring your face and horns “truthfully I got bored of overseeing the tortured souls and demons of hell, and in typical fashion when one comes to New York I set up a loaning business, then bought a night club”

Wanda raised her eyebrow in question “you mean LUX? The place that moved here from LA?”

You laughed “the very same, keeping tabs on me?”

“No I remembered my parents saying they’d like to go in an- oh”

“Oh?”

Wanda removed her hands from yours and stood up “my parents went into your club and now they owe money but instead gave you me”

You changed back to your human self standing up with Wanda making her look at you, the small amount of times you met her parents you thought they were pieces of shit “I’ll be honest Wanda I wanted to take your brother, hell the debt isn’t even that high and they could’ve payed it easily but they offered you up so quickly, tell me why”

Wanda didn’t notice herself crying again, she hated how much she was doing that lately, when you wiped her tears away she pushed herself from you “my brother is the favourite and always will be, it’s just something I have to live with”

You didn’t push her, you’d deal with the family later, humans were horrible creatures sometimes, you wondered why god even made them “okay, now that all that’s over with, how about some dinner? To lighten the mood”

“Can you even eat?” That made her laugh a little and you rolled your eyes happy to see her laughing “yes you weirdo I can eat, now what do you want?”

Wanda thought about it “Chinese?”

“Okay I’ll send Nat out for some”

Wanda sucked in a breath “she scares me”

You laughed “yeah she is scary, but she’s harmless, well to me anyway she won’t dare question me”

“Is she something different too?”

Something different? Yeah definitely how you’d describe Natasha “she’s a demon, my right hand demon basically, she enjoys scaring people, she won’t apologise for pointing a gun at you so probably best to just pretend it never happened”

“Okay”

“Okay, wait here for me, continue your nice painting” your turned her back to her canvas “maybe a few birds to liven the picture up yeah?”

Wanda smiled “yeah and a deer too”

**************************************************

“Nat! Need you to go out for me” you found her doing what she does best, kissing Maria against a wall in public like the exhibitionist she is

“You’re such a cockblock I swear to god” Nat groaned pulling herself away from Maria who just laughed “don’t swear to her dad Nat that’s weird”

“Damn right it is Maria, now Nat go and get my usual from the Chinese place, Wanda needs food and I don’t want to get it myself”

Maria pushed Nat gently and placed her hands on your shoulders “are you falling for the human?”

Your eyes widened “absolutely not! But I’m hungry and obviously she’ll need food too, like I told Nat I’ll break her starting tomorrow, I’m obviously luring her into a false sense of security and comfort, gosh why are you two so annoying about it?!”

Maria eyed you for a few moments before releasing you “how about both Nat and I go and get the food and we join you? Make it a cozy dinner between the devil, her human and two of your favourite demons?”

You sighed looking between her and Nat “fine! But Nat leave your gun it scars Wanda”

You didn’t stay long enough to hear any argument from Nat instead going back to your art room where Wanda was just finishing her picture with a couple of deer surrounded by cute robins “that looks amazing Wanda, when it dries we’ll hang it up somewhere, now come on Nat and Maria are getting the food”

“Were you mad when I kissed you?” Why was she full of questions? Why were humans so inquisitive? “You realised I marked your neck don’t you? When you kissed me I would’ve put you on the table and showed you the time of your life, unfortunately stabbing me really kills the mood unless you have a blood kink but I have a feeling that’s not you”

Wanda’s blush was adorable to you, she definitely wasn’t into that stuff, ah well you’d have to do other things together

“No no I don’t like things like that, so anyway you want me then? This whole assistant thing isn’t real and you just want to sleep with me?”

How could you tell her that while you were watching her before taking her, you’d become obsessed with her, she was just adorable, and you were so glad her parents offered her up, you’d wanted her for weeks

You were silent for a while before walking towards Wanda kissing her as soft as the devil could, gently cupping her face as you pulled away looking into her eyes “I hate how much I’m falling for you in such a short period of time, you’re a 3rd place ribbon when I deserve my first place prize money, but I think I prefer this ribbon”

It was her that kissed you this time closing the small gap, a slow kiss but a nice one nonetheless, pulling away you were still cupping her face and her hands were holding your waist, you both enjoyed this comfortable silence when a cough interrupted you making you both jump

“Interesting, the devil and a human? I think this happened once before didn’t it? She died right?”

You turned around keeping Wanda close behind you not letting the man get a glance at her “Tony to what do I owe this awful pleasure?”

“Your strippers at the club miss you, they don’t have anyone to show their moves on anymore, maybe you should go and help them” he laughed but instead of responding how you really wanted to and hit him across the face with fire you simply smiled “very interesting Tony I will look into it and now if you will please leave me and my friend alone”

He looked slightly taken aback, you normally fought back and hard when he turned up, interesting he’d have to remember that “okay well I’ll see you later at the club Y/n, young human hope you have a nice night”

He left without another word and your whole body relaxed, you felt Wanda move around and stand in front of you “strippers?”

You shook your head “they’re not strippers, we have dancers at the club and I’m in charge of making sure they’re okay and if they need anything, nothing seedy”

Wanda laughed “it doesn’t matter, you’re the devil I know you’re probably not a monogamous being” she kissed your cheek and headed for the door waiting for you

You quickly followed her and when she tried to open the door you slammed it shut leaning your body close into her and whispering into her ear “no, no you’re mine and you won’t be treated like some second rate prostitute, this little emotional talk we had where I told you how I feel won’t happen again if you’re not going to take it seriously, got it?”

Wanda was generally stunned in that moment, your eyes turned to their dark red and she didn’t know what to say “I- I I’m sorry” she whispered looking down avoiding your harsh gaze

“Look at me pretty girl” she did so and you offered her a small smile “my pretty assistant, you need to eat, now come on” you kissed her forehead softly manoeuvring you both and leaving the room

Wanda was still a little nervous but relaxed a little when she felt your hand in her own walking through the house, what a fun time she was having, at least she had a partner? Right? Sure let’s call it that

*************************************************

Nat had brought the food you wanted but decided she wanted to sleep with her girlfriend instead of eating with the two of you

“I hope you like Chinese food, I know humans eat anything but they’ve become vegetarian or that vegan thing, I gotta tell you none of it matters, when they come to hell they’ll get raw meat for the rest of eternity”

Wanda took one of the boxes and examining it “I’m not a vegan or vegetarian so it’s okay” she went to sit down at the table but you redirected her “you sit on the table in front of me, cozy”

“Okay”

You sat down with Wanda sat on the table, eating in silence for a while before Wanda stretched her neck “could I sit somewhere properly? My back and neck are getting sore”

“Come here” she shuffled off the table into your arms in a comfortable hug on your lap “are you sleepy honey?”

“Hmm” she hummed letting herself fall asleep in your hold “I’ll take that as a yes” you chuckled to yourself stroking her back in a soothing manner, staying in this position for a while you began closing your eyes drifting off but the door opened and in quickly came Carol

“Y/n! What are you doing?!”

Your father was testing you, you were absolutely being tested and your patience was wearing so fucking thin

You refused to open your eyes but did respond to the shrieking demon “Carol you don’t have to be here so why are you here?”

You sensed another figure enter the room and groaned knowing full well who it was “oh here she is, the king of hell, still trying to take over my domain?”

The woman chuckled settling in the chair next to yours reaching her hand out to touch Wanda’s shoulder making her jolt awake “hi pretty girl, are you okay?”

Wanda glanced up at you seemingly asking for help which you did pulling yourself and Wanda away from the table “If you don’t mind Valkyrie Wanda and I are going to go and get some rest, send my regards to Thor and Loki”

The woman nodded “and what about Hela?”

“Tell her to go fuck herself”

**********************************************

“Here we are my little human” you gently placed Wanda on the new bed and she looked around suspiciously “this isn’t the room i was in earlier?”

“No this is my room, I told you you’re mine, so you’ll never leave my side and this bed is very comfortable”

Wanda sat herself up on the edge of the bed looking around at the minimal decoration around the room “there isn’t much stuff in here”

You hummed turning to your closet removing your blazer “I’m only here at night so I feel no need for sentimental possessions” you finished removing your blazer and just about finished taking your shirt off when you heard Wanda gasp

“Are you okay over there Wanda? Never seen a woman shirtless before?” Chuckling to yourself you didn’t notice Wanda staring at the side of your ribs “what happened to your ribs?”

You looked down realising just how dark your large bruising was “oh yeah I forgot about that, it’s just something from the other day, it doesn’t hurt”

Before you could do anything else Wanda came towards you touching the bruising and you suddenly felt pain and winced “doesn’t hurt? Why’d you flinch?”

You pulled away sharply from her touch “it never hurts, I’m the devil nothing hurts me, how’d you do that?”

Wanda stepped backwards from you scared you were really mad at her “I-I didn’t do anything! I promise!”

“Okay okay let’s just calm down, it’s fine maybe I’m just tired” your gaze landed on a scared looking Wanda and your heart sank, even though it didn’t really work obviously something in you broke

“Hey I promise it’s okay, I am the devil Wanda only god can really hurt me and he’s not gonna do that since he’ll have to look over hell if he does”

Wanda nodded and started playing with her hands, a nervous habit you noticed her doing once in the day “do you need any sleepwear or do you sleep naked?”

The sudden change in conversation made Wanda a little less nervous “erm I think I’d prefer some sleepwear”

You shrugged “suit yourself, here you go” you threw her a shirt that you wore earlier in the day and Wanda looked it over “you want me to wear your top? Like a conquest trophy?”

“Have I not already conquered you?” You disappeared into your closet for a moment and reappearing in a shirt top and boxers?

“Are you wearing boxers? Aren’t they for men?” Wanda had quickly changed into the top you threw her and got under the covers as to keep her modesty

“Clothes aren’t gender orientated Wanda and I like my boxers” you climbed in bed next to her bringing her close to you

“We have a quiet day tomorrow, maybe I’ll get you a cute collar to match your hair” she turned to face you snuggling into your neck “I’m still really really confused about everything and I’m scared”

You let her mould herself into you and felt her heart rate slow as she let sleep take over her body “I’ll take care of you Wanda, you’ll never have to work or worry about anything ever again I promise”

***************************************

[thebawdybaldurian]

Kinktober Day Five: Rutting/Heat

Went a little long with this one but I love nothing more than primal Halsin giving it to his spouses. A little bonus teasing at a new pairing as well, Tav’s mother Saera and a much young tiefling. Lightly proof read and may be missing a few content tags 🐻

Content and Warnings: oral sex, primal sex, anal sex, breeding kink, cum talk, outdoor sex, predator/prey, rutting/heat cycles, mild piss kink, brief mentions of vomit and excrement, PIV sex, knotting, partial wild shape sex.

Pairings: Astarion x Halsin, Halsin and Femme Tav solo, Tav x Halsin

Tav was trying to mend her relationship with her mother by accompanying her from Baldur’s Gate to Reithwin, where she would finally be moving to.The wizard, Rolan had generously offered some of the furnishings from Ramazith Tower to Saera, considering that they’d already made love atop most of it. Tav had only agreed to the trip if her mother and new young lover kept the public displays of affection to an absolute minimum. That promise didn’t last long, as they began making out in the front seat of the wagon before they even got to Rivington. Tav lay reclined on one of the couches in the back, still hiding her early pregnancy from her mother for the moment.

Tav could hear their giggles and whispers even above the rumble of the wagon and tried to plug her ears, until they hit a large bump in the road that nearly made her retch from her morning sickness. “Just because an Unseen Servant can drive a wagon, doesn’t mean that it should!” Tav yelled, leaning over the back of the wagon, preparing to see her breakfast again. “Can’t you keep your eyes off one another for more than two seconds?!”

“Sorry, dear!” Saera called back, banishing the servant and taking the reins again. “Rolan and I…were just both looking at the map.

“Mapping each other’s mouths, more like it,” Tav muttered, conquering her nausea for a moment, before one of the oxen left a mudpie in its wake. She hurled over the back of the wagon, leaving a pile of scrambled eggs and toast to accompany the pie.

“Are you sick, Clataedre?” Saera called back again.

“It’s just…motion sickness,” Tav lied, rinsing her mouth with a water flask. “I’ll get used to it.”

“I’m sure Rolan can make you a tincture or something?”

“Halsin gave me something, but it makes me sleepy…and I don’t trust you two not to careen this thing off a cliff with the way you carry on.”

Rolan said something that made her mother giggle and their lips began smacking loudly again, though they managed to keep an eye out for bumps.

Back at home, Halsin and Astarion were managing the twins by themselves, currently in the throes of privy training the toddlers. Shan kept attempting to poop outside and bury his waste like Wisp the cat did and Ava insisted on being carried to and fro her elegantly carved potty chair. “Gods, I miss not having to deal with shit,” Astarion sighed, holding his nose as he dumped the contents of Ava’s chair into the regular toilet. “Sure, the liquid diet was bland…but…the smell,” he gagged.

“I’m still amazed at the things that can come out of that little girl,” Halsin laughed, druidcrafting some heavily-scented flowers.

“Thank you, darling,” Astarion smirked at Halsin as he tickled them under his nose. “How do you think our own rose is fairing on the road without us?”

“I’m sure her and her mother are already arguing about something,” Halsin replied, giving Astarion a long kiss. “Mmmmm,” he growled, letting his tongue linger in Astarion’s mouth longer than usual. “You taste good this afternoon.”

He kissed down Astarion’s neck, nuzzling into the lacing of his undershirt. “You smell good too…”

“Settle down, Daddy Bear, the kids are still awake,” Astarion purred, hearing the hunger in Halsin’s voice.

“But due for a nap soon,” Halsin replied, giving his ass a tight squeeze.

This pregnancy was his turn at having sympathy symptoms, which included an increased libido. With Tav away from the house for a few days, Astarion was hoping Halsin could be contained to only a few ruts per day. “Shall we employ the cottage again this time?” Astarion asked, wondering what Halsin was in the mood for.

“If we can make it that far,” Halsin bit his lip, nipping Astarion’s ear lobe. “I need you…as soon as possible…”

“Kids…I think it is time for your afternoon nap!” Astarion announced, gently nudging Halsin away before he became prematurely aroused. “Daddy Bear is going to work in the garden a little to let off some steam, so I’ll come read you a story.”

“I want mommy to weed us a stowy!” Ava pouted, already missing her mother’s presence.

“Mommy isn’t here, princess, so you will have to make due without the shadow puppets and funny voices,” Astarion sighed, giving Halsin a wink.

“She’ll be back soon, we promise,” Halsin headed towards the door to the garden. “Though possibly not soon enough,” he said quietly to himself.

Halsin let out a hungry growl as he walked across the path to the cottage, feeling the beast inside clawing to get out. He began to strip, letting the sun shine on his bare skin, which became a bit hairier. He splayed his body out across the large, flat boulder that they occasionally ate around, the morning sun making it nice and warm to lay across. He began clawing at his body, needing the sensation of touch to tide him over. He grunted lowly as his hands fumbled around his groin, rubbing himself stiff with loud pants from his throat. He began to stroke himself with his own sweat, the heat of his desires growing warmer by the second. Astarion found him in such a state after getting the twins to sleep. Halsin was tightly gripping his cock as he edged pre-cum out of it. “Already getting a head start, are we?” Astarion grinned, taking his time sauntering over. “You are insatiable.”

“Come here,” Halsin growled, sitting up and pulling Astarion close. He ripped open Astarion’s trousers with his teeth, licking across his cock as soon as he could reach it.

“Dear Gods, druid…slow down,” Astarion gasped, taking a handful of Halsin’s hair between his fingers. “We…have an hour…ahhh!” He moaned as Halsin took his still soft cock in his mouth.

“You taste like Clataedre,” Halsin looked up at Astarion, the primal golden glow in his eyes flashing.

“We…uhhnnnn…made love this morning…mmmmm…before she left…ahhh, too much teeth, darling…” Astarion whimpered, rapidly growing stiff in Halsin’s mouth.

“When?” Halsin bellowed, spinning Astarion around so he could eat his asshole.

“When you…were in the…ahhhh…bath…after you…tasted her for nearly an hour…”

“She’s ripe…fruiting…I needed it…” Halsin tongued Astarion’s asshole with a heavy, hot breath, reaching around to stroke him.

“Mmmmhhhh…I thought maybe that would…tide you over for a bit…but clearly I was…gods…Halsin…” Astarion moaned, Halsin’s firm tongue creeping up his hole a little.

“I fear I might need to use other means to satisfy myself…so I don’t wear you out,” Halsin slicked his fingers with pre-cum and slipped a few fingers up Astarion’s ass.

“Ahhhh…this is…really poor timing by Tav,” Astarion huffed, spreading his cheeks wider as Halsin fingered his ass, his mouth still licking and biting Astarion’s smooth backside. “You’re sure you want to stay out here to do this…the neighbors will hear?”

“They’ll be hearing much worse once Clataedre starts to show,” Halsin growled, pulling Astarion back slightly as he lay himself back across the boulder. “ I need you, my heart…but I don’t want to hurt you…so you better control the pace,” he slicked his cock with more pre-cum, ready for Astarion to mount him.

“You are buying me new pants, by the way,” Astarion grinned, licking his lips and slipping his trousers all the way off. “I’m not even going to bother mending them.”

“I could switch you to Druid’s robes, so I need only lift them up,” Halsin panted, stroking his cock to get more pre-cum.

“Now that is an idea…” Astarion straddled him, teasing Halsin’s cock against his tight hole. “Fashionable and fuckable robes by Astarion Ancunin.”

“You can design once we are done. I want you to come straight in my mouth,” Halsin groaned, Astarion sinking slowly around his cock. He gripped Astarion’s shaft, stroking him gently as he continued being engulfed by Astarion’s wet hole.

“Mmmmm you feel…good enough that I might not have control of where it goes,” Astarion grunted as he filled himself completely with Halsin’s thick length.

He rode Halsin slowly at first, letting him spill more pre-cum inside him to make things even more slick. Halsin began bucking his hips with him, still stroking along Astarion’s shaft, but begging for a faster pace. “Now…” Astarion huffed, bouncing quicker on his shaft. “Don’t you dare knot it me…the kids won’t be asleep for long.”

“I don’t…uhhhhnnnfff…always have control…and you feel…ready to be bred…” Halsin growled, bucking his hips faster. He hunched forward, taking Astarion’s cock in his mouth and sucking hard on it.

“Uhnnnn fuck…Halsin,” Astarion groaned, taking a tight handful of his hair in his fingers again. “I need to…ahhhh…get back to work…eventually…and be…fuck…able to walk.”

Halsin looked up at him with a hungry, but obedient nod, focusing part of his attention on staying unknotted. Astarion rode him faster as Halsin sucked hard on his tip, finally sputtering into his mouth with a desperate shout that sent a nearby family of crows scattering to the sky.

As good as Astarion felt, Halsin knew there was only one remedy for his insatiable rut and she was somewhere on the road to Reithwin. Astarion continued riding him, giving his prostate a healthy workout. Halsin had to pull out eventually, unable to keep the bulb from swelling out of the base of his cock. “Ahhhh…look at you…” Astarion cooed, reaching down to start stroking Halsin with his hand. “You’re in a proper rut, aren’t you big bear?”

“Blame our…beautiful wife and her…ummmmffphhh…fertile hips,” Halsin bellowed, his canines growing sharper. “I need to find her…mate with her again and again…”

“I suppose I can ask my mother to come help with the children for a few days,” Astarion grinned, stroking him tight and fast. He slid back onto Halsin’s thighs, not wanting him to erupt up the back of his shirt and into his hair. He cupped the bulbous, red knot in his other hand, the throbbing flesh even hotter than Halsin normally was. “This might be your biggest one yet, bear,” Astarion teased, seeing Halsin’s stomach clench as he prepared to climax. The thick spurts of cum shot at least a foot into the air, smattering back down across Halsin’s torso and the boulder. Astarion milked every last drop out, leaving Halsin panting and covered in his own cum.

“Mmmmmm…thank you, my heart,” Halsin let out a heavy sigh, glancing down at the mess he’d made of himself. “I might still be able to catch her tonight if I’m lucky.”

“Just be mindful that she’s with her mother,” Astarion leaned down to kiss him. “Don’t give the old woman a heart attack with your wild mating. Tav doesn’t need to lose both her parents in the same year.”

“I make no promises for my desires,” Halsin grinned. “Do you want me to bring you some new pants before I set off?”

“I think I have some in the cottage,” Astarion climbed off the stone with a groan. “Go easy on our little love. She may be just as horny as you, but she’s in a delicate state.”

“I will,” Halsin replied, sitting up to receive a goodbye kiss. “See you in a few days…good luck.”

Halsin shifted into his hawk wild shape, leaving the garden with a loud trill as Astarion went to get cleaned up and changed before the children woke up from their nap. Halsin soared above the city, heading straight towards Wyrm’s Crossing and the eastern road towards Reithwin. The sun was still bright, so he had plenty of daylight to try to find the wagon along the road. He made a quick stop along the river, diving towards the water before shifting into an otter and riding the slow current. He shifted back into his elven form, cleaning himself up in the water and letting the cold chill his loins for a bit as he swam. He continued his search in wolf form, trying to determine if they’d taken the safer Risen Road or the shorter trail with a much rougher ride. He thought he caught a hint of Tav’s scent towards the Risen Road and began to follow it with a slavering jaw. His desire was already growing and when he found the spot where they’d stopped to rest and relieve themselves, he found himself fully aroused again at the smell of her piss. He nuzzled it hungrily, chuffing at the faint bit of her own arousal that her stream had washed into the puddle. She was in a heat as well and he knew that when he found her, she’d be slick and waiting for him.

Even with the proposition of her warm embrace closer at hand, he was forced to shift back into his elven form. His cock was red and throbbing, his need to rut too much to overcome. He fucked his hand urgently, fingering his asshole as well to get him off quickly. “Clataedre,” he growled, spending into the pile of leaves she’d left her scent in. He clawed the tree after, letting the animals in the area know that a true beast stalked about. He returned to his hunt in hawk form, needing to find her a soon as possible.

Tav had taken over driving duties once her stomach settled, her mother and Rolan retreating into the back of the wagon for more kissing and fondling. They switched back after they had stopped for lunch and relieved themselves, Tav already longing for home and the comfort of her two husbands. As she dabbed herself dry after a long piss, she found her hand lingering there, her lips wet with more than her bladder contents. “I should have taken one of them along with us,” she thought to herself, biting deeply into her lip as she rubbed her palm against her clit.

She shifted the bunched up fabric of her dress from her waist to her teeth, both to muffle her moans and allow her to press her other hand against herself as well. She rolled her hips hungrily against her palm, moaning quietly into her dress with her panties still around her ankles. It was a desperate climax that was over quickly, after which she pulled up her panties and returned back to the road. “You look a little flushed, dear,” Saera noted, Tav’s cheeks beautifully rosy.

“I’m just a little tired,” Tav replied, a nap sounding like a wonderful idea after her quick orgasm. “I might nod off for an hour or two in the back.”

“Alright,” Saera nodded, climbing up into the front of the wagon with Rolan’s help. “We’ll try to avoid the bumps for you.”

They continued on down the Risen Road just as the sun began to creep towards setting in the west. Tav nodded off quickly, the relief of her climax and the warmth of the covered wagon lulling her to her trance.

Halsin spotted the wagon from afar, one of the few covered with a cloth to keep the dust of the road off the furniture. He circled overhead, seeing Saera and Rolan in the front and figured Tav must be in the back. He swooped down low and onto the cloth roof, catching a curious moan in his ear. “Ohhh Saera,” Rolan moaned quietly. “What if your daughter hears us?”

“She would have said something by now if she was awake,” Saera whispered quietly, a loud sucking sound following after.

Halsin teetered to the front edge of the roof, peeking over to find Tav’s mother giving Rolan a blow job as he drove the wagon. Rolan’s tail was up her dress and they both appeared to be enjoying themselves. Halsin took flight from the roof, startling them for a moment before they resumed their respective duties. He circled the wagon a few times before landing on the back gate, carefully peeking his head through the canvas.

Tav was asleep on her back, one hand above her head, tangled in the mess of her hair and the other cradling her stomach. She would be starting to show any day now and the thought of it made Halsin’s feathers ruffle. He quietly jumped down into the bed of the wagon and hopped onto the couch where Tav slept. She was covered in a thin dew of sweat, the heat of the sun making the inside of the wagon quite toasty. He used his beak to lift the hem of her dress slightly, letting his thin tongue taste a bit of the sweat on her calf. She stirred a little, letting out a quiet moan that made his cloaca throb. He knew that he needed to have her, but taking her in the wagon would be loud and possibly break the axels. He lifted her dress a little more, peeking his feathered head under it. He could smell the scent of her, mixed with her sweat. She’d come recently and was still slick, her panties bunched slightly to one side.

He shifted back to his elven form almost instantaneously, covering her mouth to hide the startled cry in her throat. He peeked his head out from under her dress with a hungry grin, putting his other hand to his lips to tell her to remain silent. “I need you,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hotter than even the wagon air. “Tell me where I can take you…”

“Right here,” she let out a quiet whimper into his ear, tonguing it after. “Fuck me right here.”

“What about them?” He whispered back, slipping a hand up her dress.

Rolan’s huffing moans were audible over the rumble of the wagon, urging Saera to keep going. Tav rolled her eyes, but smiled up at him, casting a spell with her hands. A shimmering bubble surrounded the couch, leaving them in total silence. “We should be safe to talk now,” Tav grinned, pulling his hand further up her dress. “This was supposed to be a surprise for after I got back,” she shuddered, his fingers instantly probing deep inside her.

“What is this?” Halsin glanced up at the bubble, pushing Tav’s dress up to her waist as he continued to finger her.

“Something of Syma’s invention,” Tav replied, lifting her hips so he could slip her panties completely off. “It’s like a reverse silence spell. All sound is contained in here. We can be as loud as we want and those two asshole will never hear a thing.”

“Really?” Halsin grinned, taking a long, slow lick between her labia.

“Why do you think we never heard Gale and Syma after Astarion’s little incident with the Dispel Magic prank?”

“This could be very dangerous,” he growled, nipping one of her lips between his teeth.

“Precisely why I had her teach it to me…”

He kissed up her body, licking up beads of sweat as he pulled her dress over her head. “I apologize for what you might hear, little one,” he nuzzled Tav’s belly, speaking to the acorn growing inside her.

“Put another one in me,” Tav begged, pulling him between her thighs. “I need you breed me so badly.”

“I know my love, that’s why I came,” he moaned, easing into the slick warmth of her canal. “I already bred Astarion after you left…but I needed my rose…my garden…”

“I…mmmmm…hope you weren’t too rough with him?” She moaned, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. “He hasn’t seen as much of this side of you as I have.”

“I seeded the garden with him,” Halsin huffed, his thrusts deep and slow for the moment.

“Ohhhh,” she whined, taking a firm grip on his ass. “I thought we’d be the first to fuck in the garden.”

“I think it’s a fair trade for watching the children for a few days…I’m sure with his parents’ help.”

“A few days?” She grinned, pulling him closer.

“I won’t be satisfied with one rut,” he grinned back, digging his heels into the couch so he could thrust harder.

They fucked hungrily in a heavy sweat, the velvet couch dampened under their bodies. They moaned and cried as loudly as they needed, Tav’s legs contorting as he took her at several different angles on the couch. He left several dark bite marks on her shoulder as he took her from behind and she dug her nails into his back as she rode him, bouncing with each bump in the road. They ended in a tangle on their sides, their bodies pressed tightly together as she clenched his knot inside her. He captured her joyous climax in his mouth, kissing her hard as he erupted inside her. They lay breathless and in their own world, staring deeply into one another’s eyes. They were mated for life, whether or not they produced any more children after their third arrived.

They were cloaked in so much bliss, they didn’t even notice that the wagon had stopped, one of the wheels becoming wobbly from their vigorous love making. “For the love of Corellon, Clataedre!” Saera looked into the canvas cover, finding her daughter entangled completely nude with one of her husbands. They didn’t hear her exclamation, the bubble keeping all sound from their hips, that still slowly moved together, squeezing Halsin’s knot a little tighter.

Saera finally threw something at the bubble, dispelling it and filling the wagon with the wet smacks of their lips. “Clataedre! Have you no shame?!” Saera screeched, holding her hand up to the block the view of their naked bodies. The wagon reeked of sweat and sex and the couch they were on was throughly stained.

“What’s going on?” Rolan asked, peeking his head in. “Dear Gods!” He nearly passed out from shock, getting both a whiff and the full view of their naked bodies.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Tav glanced back at her mother, fumbling to find her dress to cover them up. It was too far to reach, so they were forced to remain uncovered and entangled. “Knee deep on the wagon seat while I napped!”

“Well…but…” Saera struggled to answer. “Get up and get dressed and then we can argue!”

“We can’t,” Tav grinned, nuzzling Halsin’s blushed cheeks. “We’re stuck like this for a while.”

“What do you mean stuck? Stuck to the couch? Which is throughly ruined, by the way?”

“Do you remember when our old dog, Sprinkle got out…and we found him stuck to that stray bitch in an alley…?”

“Oh my gods!” Saera looked horrified. “How?”

“I am a druid…and you daughter brings something wild out in me,” Halsin grinned. Saera shrieked, storming off away from the wagon in a huff.

“I think this will keep her from popping in unannounced from now on,” Tav grinned, giving his knot another tight squeeze. “I love you, my virile druid.”

“I love you, my fertile rose,” he tied even tighter to her, leaking a little more of his seed into her womb.

[robynhoodss]

Dabi Comforts You {A Sleep Playlist}

Based on this youtube/spotify playlist (x)

a/n: basically, I have listened to this playlist on repeat for the past two years and it has gotten through some of the hardest times in my life. These songs are my saving grace and my comfort in the darkness. Please listen to the playlist while you read <3

pairing: dabi x f!reader

contains: comfort, thunderstorms, Dabi being soft, f!reader

ao3: (x)

The first time it rained after she had joined the League of Villains was a rough night. She had just finished a mission that left her breathless and looking over her shoulder, fear creeping over her spine. She liked the rain, but didn’t like the loud thunder that tended to follow. Now, it felt as though she was being watched, and she hated the way it made her feel.

She tossed and turned in her bed for a little bit, shaking every time the thunder boomed as if it was happening right on top of their building. At some points, the entire building would shake, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to convince herself that everything was going to be okay, but a part of her didn’t believe herself.

Finally, she had enough laying in her bed, waiting for the roof to come down on her. She slipped out of her room and padded down the hallway with soft footsteps, not wanting to wake anyone else up. She headed towards the common room, surprised to see the flash of the television across the open door. Peeking her head in, she was even more surprised to find Dabi sitting up, flipping through channels.

She stepped into the room, clearing her throat to announce her arrival. When he didn’t spare her a glance, she walked around the edge of the couch and took a seat a fair distance away from him. He said nothing as he continued to flip through channels, looking bored and exhausted.

His eyes had bags underneath them, his dark hair ruffled and his eyes drooping low with sleepiness. She thought to herself that he looked good ruffled, before quickly banishing the thought. They had only talked a handful of times, and while she found him funny and attractive, she didn’t want to develop a crush.

When he found nothing to watch, he tossed the TV remote to the side and looked at her. “What’re you doing up?” He rasped, his voice rough from disuse. She shrugged, rubbing at her eyes. She jumped lightly when thunder sounded, glancing up at the ceiling to see if there were any cracks that were forming. It would be just her luck for the ceiling to come down in the middle of her conversation.

“Scared of a little rain?” Dabi said with a small smirk, leaning towards her to look her in the eye. She shook her head quickly, opening her mouth to respond when Dabi leaned back and scoffed. “I don’t care.”

A little put off, she said nothing in return, turning back to the TV which was filled with static. “It’s the lightning and thunder I don’t like.” She whispered finally, wringing her hands together in her lap. Dabi glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, biting his lip rings gently. He dug his phone out of his pocket, fiddling with it before music started to play.

It was soft, melodic music that instantly put her at ease. She listened to the music he chose, surprised that he would listen to something like this but grateful nonetheless. The music filled the air between them, and she closed her eyes as she swayed, listening closely. It started off with Cigarettes After Sex, a soft tune that seemed to relax her. 

Dabi watched her out of the corner of his eye, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. When the next song started playing, he leaned over to set his phone on the coffee table, angling it towards her so she could hear it clearly. She leaned against the armrest of the couch, trying to get into a comfortable position.

He watched her shift around for a minute or so before he scoffed once more, leaning his arm along the back of the couch. “C’mere.” He said gruffly, gesturing to himself. She stared at him for a second, which caused him to chuckle. “I’m not going to say it twice.” 

Hesitantly, she crawled over to his side, leaning against him and resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer so she was almost sitting in his lap. Every time the thunder hit, she would flinch a little and he responded by rubbing her shoulders with his thumb gently.

Slowly, she settled down, barely paying attention to the thunder that began to sound more and more distant. Instead, she listened to the music and focused on the way Dabi felt underneath her. She was curled up in his lap, eyes closed with her head against his chest. It was the slight rumbling that came from him that caused her to glance up.

He was staring into space, humming along to the song quietly. She smiled in response and snuggled back in, listening to him sing along to the music. His voice matched the pitch, knowing the song very well, and it only served to relax her more.

By the time she fell asleep, they had gotten through the entire playlist, Dabi humming and her listening. She was completely relaxed against him, mouth slightly open in her sleep as she took in deep breaths. The playlist continued to play in the background as she slept against him, clutching his shirt in her hand.

By the time she woke, he was gone and she was sprawled out on the couch. She rubbed at her eyes, looking around, surprised to find his phone still on the coffee table. It was still playing the same songs, as if he left it for her. She smiled to herself, getting up and turning the phone off, intent to find him. They said nothing as she handed the phone back to him, only exchanging private smiles before heading their separate ways.

From then on, whenever it rained, she would find him in the common room. There, she would spend the night curled up against him as he hummed those twelve songs to her. It was blissful, and part of her wished they could do this more often. She knew better than to push however, grateful for any bit of companionship he was offering. It wasn’t until Toga caught them together that Dabi tried to make the effort to spend more time with her. After that, their relationship blossomed into a hesitant one and they met more often than not late at night.

[cbsghostsmetasandtrevor]

CBS Ghosts - Pilot - Sam's Return

Warning Spoilers may appear.

I can’t believe they tried to fool us with Jay acting like he lost Sam. Also, someone from his family he should be there to support him.

She makes a point to mention that she was technically dead for three minutes - I wonder, does that mean that she would have become a ghost?   Would she have seen other ghosts when she died?  How did that all work?  I NEED to know. Why did we skip this informational scenes? It would be so good!

Side note, Jay is adorable.

LMAO - Alberta’s been dead for (at this point) about 93 years and SOMEHOW knows ALL of the words to the song and all of her songs?  And she’s so into it - I wonder if the less than excited audience affects her at all?  Because she doesn’t look like it does.  She’s so excited and into it for that.

I love this gif - Trevor is taking up the ENTIRE couch and looking SO bored, Hetty looks like she’s asleep and could fall on top of Trevor in any moment, and Isaac looks like he’s prepared to sneak out.  

So, Interesting that Hetty&Trevor are in the same shot together - does that mean she believes him about not wanting to hurt Sam?  Has she forgiven him for the accident?  Is he okay with her accusing him and freak him out in that last scene?  Knowing about Ghost Court - Did one of them have to spend banishment time in the woods???? I am so curious.

All interesting thoughts.

Pete’s the ONLY excited one - and knowing about his crush on Alberta and the fact that he’s clearly in charge of the club days, it makes sense.  Meanwhile, Thor claps twice - alright Thor.  I suppose you tried? More than the others, anyway.

LMAO - Sass is SO BORED that he has COUNTED this particular song 487 times!  That’s NUTS!  It’s only be 93 years - that means she’s sung it 5 times a year (which is actually not that bad but 487 sounds like a LOT more).  Anyway, I love Sass supplying the number of times that Alberta has sung this song.  

Also, this tells us a lot about Sass - he’s still paying attention (even bored) and had a pretty good memory.  It does explain his stories and whatnot too.  

Laying it on thick, Pete. Clearly the crush is strong already.

I love how Thor’s ‘ooooh, something else!’  “Landship!”  Is something is very Thor and I’m curious - when does he learn about cars but then deliberately decides to troll everyone by still calling them Landships?

OMG I love the way they are suddenly awake and excited!  Something is happening and literally, Trevor nearly falls off trying to get up!  It’s freaking hilarious. I love it so much!

OOOOOh, First time we see Flower in this scene, AND Hetty is clearly telling everyone, but specifically Trevor that Sam is alive and well.  This is interesting for two reasons:

1. They’ve obviously made up as mentioned earlier.

2. He’s obviously expressed some worry over what happened, and she’s assuring him that Sam is fine.

And here’s Trevor’s relief.  It’s interesting that Flower/Thor are standing back, that Isaac despite appearing to have a faster time to getting up and reacting that Trevor beats him to the window.  Same with Pete.  Also, Alberta wasn’t curious?  Sass wasn’t curious?  

Guess it makes sense that Trevor&Hetty react the reveal since Trevor was the cause of the accident and Hetty is her relative.  

ANYWAY, I just realized that there’s a lot of subtly in the relationships without the dialog to explain it.  

I really like this.  

Thanks for reading!

Feel free to chat :)

[talesfromawannabewriter]

Ada had sat there on the couch in the lobby next to Lucifer. Her right hand entangled with her mates while the other held her face as she looked away with eye furrowed. The rest of the hotel residents sat on various furniture across from them. Vaggie staring daggers at Ada, as the atmosphere became so thick you could cut it with a knife silence. After some time had passed Charlie finally broke the silence by clearing her throat and finally addressing the situation.

Charlie: So, this

she gestured towards their laced hands

Charlie: This is definitely going to take some time for me to get used to. But does she genuinely make you happy? Like actually happy, not the happy you use to say mom made you when I asked but in reality you were just trying to appease me.

Lucifer looked back at Ada and gave her the most love sick gentlest smile Charlie had ever seen on her dad.

Lucifer: She makes me happy more than anything

Charlie: Then, I suppose that’s all that matters.

Vaggie: Your shitting me right!?

Charlie: Vaggie!

Vaggie: Charlie this is the woman, who threatened us, destroyed the hotel, has killed millions of millions of your people, and banished me just because I spared a ONE FUCKING SINNER WHO WAS A CHILD!!!

Ada turned her head back to Vaggie and gave her a heated glare

Ada: a child you had no idea what they were in Hell for, from my understanding Jesus literally once said to let the children come to him. That means only either truly evil children, like psychopathic tiny killers, which are a thing. Hell maybe it wasn’t even an actual kid! It could’ve been a pedophile for all we know!!!

Lucifer: …unfortunately Ada has a point most sinners who look like children aren’t

Vaggie’s eye widened as her mouth dropped and she was shocked into silence.

Angel: Damn, that actually explains why a kid once told me on the street very explicit shit to me about what he’d do to me if ever gotten the chance, I just thought it was because that it was Hell.

Vaggie quickly shook herself out of her stupor and went right back to glaring

Vaggie: Well then why didn’t you tell any of us that!?

Ada: I have LITERALLY expressed during training that these demons we were killing deserved it, because they are in fucking HELL!!!! What more reason could you need!? They have literally earned damnation!

Vaggie: Now you have apparently earned damnation, long overdue in my opinion

Ada: What. The actual FUCK. Does that mean!?

Charlie: Guys please let’s just all calm down and take a breather

Ada: No! I want to know what Cadet Vagina has to say!

Vaggie got up and walked over to Ada Lucifer tried to step in front of his mate to protect her from the threat but Ada simply pushed him aside and glared down at her former first Lieutenant. How did she ever see potential in filth that acted all superior? She heard a squeal and saw in the corners of her eye the little gremlin that stabbed her was watching them both with eyes sparkling with baited breath as she waited for a fight to break out.

Nifty: Hehehe! BAD GIRL FIGHT!!!

Vaggie: Nifty stay out of this, (turns back to Ada) You know what exactly I mean! Someone like you shouldn’t have ever entered Heaven in the first place!? I mean what the actual fuck have YOU ever done for humanity other than being a breeding bitch?

Vaggie felt the smirk fall right off her face when she felt a stinging slap to the face that hit her so hard she stumbled backwards. Ada felt her whole world go dizzy as she glared at Vaggie with fire in her eyes as a sob threatened to escape her.

Ada: YOU DON’T KNOW ONE FUCKING THING ABOUT ME!!!! FROM DAY FUCKING ONE OF LIFE I WAS TOLD MY PURPOSE WAS TO BE A FUCKING SLAVE AND BABY FACTORY! WERE YOU THERE WHEN I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO LAY ON MY BACK OR TAKE STEVE UP THE ASS ALL FOR ONE PURPOSE OF GETTING FUCKING PREGNANT!?!? NOOO!!!! YOU WEREN’T AND IT WAS EVEN WORSE OUTSIDE THE GARDEN!!! FOR MY DISOBEDIENCE AND FOR BRINGING EVIL INTO THIS WORLD I WAS FORCED TO NOT ONLY BLEED IF I DID NOT CONCEIVE AFTER MY HEAT I ALSO HAD TO ENDURE CHILDBIRTH WITH NO FUCKING MEDICINE TO ALLEVIATE ANY OF THE FUCKING PAIN NOR ANYONE TO HELP WITH THE BIRTHS EXCEPT FUCKING STEVE! BUT OH NO GUESS WHAT!? HE WAS COMPLETELY FUCKING USELESS AS ALL HE DID WAS WAIT OUTSIDE FOR IT TO BE ALMOST DONE THEN CATCH THE BABY AT THE LAST MINUTE!!! I THEN SPENT MY TIME WHEN NOT GIVING BIRTH RAISING THE CHILDREN BY MYSELF BECAUSE AGAIN STEVE NEVER GAVE A SHIT ABOUT THE KIDS UNLESS HE WAS COMMANDING THEM!!!! LIFE FUCKING SUCKED OUTSIDE OF EDEN BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE MOST HORRIBLE THING IS!?!? ITS THAT IM REMINDED EVERY TIME I MESSED UP ITS BECAUSE OF ME THAT HELL AND EVIL EVEN FUCKING EXISTS!!!!!!!!!

Ada’s chest heaved as she panted, throat sore from the screaming. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blurred, but not before seeing the way everyone was looking at her with shock and pity. All except Lucifer who just looked sad for her. She didn’t want their pity, she is the mother of humanity she doesn’t need their fucking pity, she’s stronger than that. She just, just needed to get away, she needed to breathe. Without another word she ran out the doors, spread her wings wide and took off.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Entrapped Arc 2

Lucifer woke up to a beautiful sight, his mate snuggled into his arms dead asleep. The both of them were as naked as the day they were created. For the past week the two mates had been riding out the heat together on all time fuck streak. Day after day Lucifer and Ada would spend them making the most passionate love between the two, only stopping to eat and rest. Lucifer smiled as he sniffed his new Queens neck. No more heat, it seemed, judging by the lack of intense hormone filled air. Suddenly Ada’s eyes fluttered opened and she gave him a small tired smile

Ada: Morning Luci, (kisses his lips then turns away) no offense babe, but I thought I had bad morning breath, you have the whole cave of it

Luci: (chuckles) Well I am known for smelling like the most foul of things. 

Ada laughed as well but suddenly felt a little nauseous the more she smelt it. Quickly she got out of Lucifer’s hold and ran toward the bathroom. Lucifer quickly followed suit when he heard the sound of vomiting coming from it. He crouched behind his mate and proceeded to rub her back until she was done.

Lucifer: Are you alright?

Ada: Yeah I’m fine, I think since it’s been so long since I’ve been in heat that my body just isn’t used to it.

Lucifer: Mm, probably right, anyway I hope your not too sick to go out

Ada: Out where?

Lucifer: To Charlie’s hotel, to tell her the news about us, as well as the other residents. Since she sees them as family after all

Ada grimaced, she didn’t want to go to the place where she obliterated her now technically step daughters home, maim many of her friends, and watched from afar as Steve killed one of her residents when he was observing the battle and a blimp with a sinner got in the way. She sighed thinking of how many of those residents most likely wanted her head on a pike.

Lucifer: Hey, it’s going to be ok, look Charlie knows about the story of Eden and while she may not know the whole full details of what Steve put you through she knows that you were forced to do things you didn’t want to, and that underneath the harsh exterior you have on now is the same sweet, kind women who loved all animals whether they were a giant lion, or a tiny duck. 

Gently he turns her toward him and places a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb on it. She nuzzled into the hand then looks back to see his kind eyes staring at her with so much adoration 

Lucifer: That is the person I fell deeply in love with all those years ago, and she is the same person I’m still madly in love with. We’ll get through this Ada, me and you

Ada: But what if she hates me?

Lucifer: Maybe, maybe not, but if I know Charlie it won’t be for long. After all, she believes in the philosophy that everyone can change. That is literally the main reason she built that hotel. It’ll take time I’m sure, but eventually she’ll see the amazing omega I see. 

Ada gave him a watery smile before hugging him. They stayed like that for a couple minutes before Lucifer pulled away. 

Lucifer: Welp, let’s get dressed then we can head to the hotel

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[oneshotnewbie]

Like what if Kara came home and found B!D sick on the couch?

combined with: can you do some more stuff with Kara looking after b!d?

---

The sun was already about to set behind the hills of National City and you were still on the couch; you hadn't moved from it since this morning. Your head was pounding and you felt like your skull would break, your whole body felt heavy and destroyed, almost like you had been run over by a truck.

You weren't often sick, but when you were, you were immediately violated with the pleasure that no pain pills would help, no blanket could calm the cold inside you and a warm bath didn't automatically move your tense muscles and quivering bones to hurt less.

The only thing you could do was endure it all, at least for the first 24 hours.

The darkened living room, the pillow that you had pressed over your eyes to banish the rest of the daylight and the fresh air that made it's way into the apartment through the open balcony door let the headache subside, at least a little. The hot water bottle on your back also helped you to relax a little and made everything a little more comfortable.

At least before you felt a huge impact in front of you that chased shock waves through your body and made you whine in pain. "Y/N, I am home!" shouted the blonde in her luscious bright and high voice. "Oh Rao, I am so hungry!"

You winced at the volume of her voice and clung to the pillow with both hands before throwing it to the side in annoyance. "You are always hungry and now don't be angry with me but shut up."

She walked back the last few meters she had already started to the kitchen and looked down over the back of the couch to your lying figure. "I am sorry, I didn't know... Did I wake you?"

"No but thanks to my Kryptonian sister which flew through the window like dumbo instead of taking the door like a normal human being I am in more pain than I was thirty seconds ago." you tried to roll your eyes but let it be when a spasm ran through your head and you paused for a moment. You hated headaches more than anything.

"It's way easier and faster for me and you know that!" she laughed confused. The blonde didn't know exactly what was wrong with you and why you reacted this way, she didn't saw you since yesterday evening and you were perfectly fine then.

With one quick movement of her hand she switched on the small standing lamp on the table next to the couch and you immediately flinched while crossing your arms in front of your face.

She raised her eyebrows and frowned her nose before dropping the bags of food on the coffee table and kneeling in front of you while one hand of hers found its way to your knee. "Hey, sweetheart. What's going on?"

"Nothing Kara and I am really sorry but my head hurts as if there are stones inside and I am in so much pain that I can't even breathe properly." you mumbled in the pillow and she let out a heavy breath before she switched off the light next to you and gently pulled the pillow out of your hands.

She knew how bad your headaches could hit you.

"I am so sorry, baby girl. If I had known, I would have been quieter." you waved with one hand as to say her that it was fine as you tried to sit up. The imagine before your eyes trembled and your head felt like a jackhammer. You pressed on the sides of your skull to ease the pain. "Have you already took pills for the pain?"

"Three times the normal dosage and nothing helped. I think I nodded off briefly or several times, but I am not sure." you admitted and looked at her sadly. "Why didn't you call Alex or me so we could come and take care of you?"

"My phone is in the kitchen and I didn't have the strength to move my body, risking I could faint or else."

She nodded in understanding and gently stroked her thighs before she fished a stranded hair piece out of your face and placing her hand on your forehead. You leaned into her cool hand and stayed like that for some time before she took it away and looked at you worriedly. "You have a high fever, kid."

There was a short pause before she got up and sat down next to you on the couch. Only now did she notice the hot water bottle and felt it to see if it was still warm enough. When she realized it wasn't anymore, she pulled it out from behind you and placed it on her thighs. "Have you already eaten something today? Drank?"

You shook your head slowly, careful not to aggravate the pain. "Didn't ate, drank only this little bottle of water." Kara rubbed her forehead a few times and sighed before getting up, taking the food and the bottle with her while going into the kitchen. "You should have called, Y/N."

You ignored your older sister's answer; you just didn't want to bother her and take her away from work if nothing bad had happened. With this thought, you lay back again and closed your eyes. Inside, you were glad that she was finally home and you were no longer alone as you had someone who was with you and took care of you.

---

After she made you some tea and managed to get some food down your throat, she lay down with you and watched your favorite movie while holding you firmly and protective, giving you more warmth than the precious hot water bottle. At least she was watching the film, the second she lay down on the couch, you turned away from the television and were now facing her; your leg on her thigh while both arms wrapped around her body and your head resting on her chest. "Try to sleep a little, you need to rest."

"You gonna stay?" you whispered.

"Don't worry, I will stay right were I am. I will be here." she paused and gave you a kiss on your hair. "Now close your eyes, baby girl."

[dracoladon]

oh my god I absolutely ADORED lucid and born slippy, so the chance to prompt you with something is so so exciting!! as always, no pressure, but how about something about undressing each other? i've always LOVED the unlacing/undressing tropes in capri, and I bet it would be incredible applied to some lovely drarry. do with this what you wish!!!

sidjdjfnndkff thank you, and thank u again for this ungodly prompt. if there’s three things i love, they’re captive prince, drarry, and soft smutty tropes such as the one u hath so kindly bestowed upon me.

i accidentally made a fair few lucid references in here (prizes for all who can spot them, the prize is a poem about u as composed by me) so i suppose, if you’ve read that one and so wish, u can consider this part of the same universe. or smth ://

maybe i’m just hideously unimaginative when it comes to topics for my banter. anywho

rated e, 1732 words.

The thing about Draco’s work robes, is that they’re buttoned all the way up to the throat. Which, hm, doesn’t sound like an issue in and of itself. But becomes one, of sorts, when Harry is overcome by the need to unbutton them every time he lays eyes on pale, elegant throat, the column of it under stiff black fabric. 

The thing is, that Draco looks so austere, so tightly laced, and the thing. Is. That Harry just wants to unlace him. 

Draco is, of course, not austere. He’s in fact very, erm, flexible. Pliant. He told Harry once, when they first starting fucking, that his body reformed around Harry’s, and he liked the way he went malleable in Harry’s hands. 

“I can’t do that with anyone else,” Draco said. Then frowned. “That didn’t make much sense.”

But the buttons. The buttons. The high-necked buttons. They give Draco a look of frigidity, that he’s not to be spoken to, touched (all in a very sexy, aristocratic kind of way, of course), and it’s so bloody hot that Harry’s taken to banishing his glasses and burying his head under a pillow when Draco dresses in the mornings, just to stop himself getting so hard he goes properly blind with it. 

Draco asked him, the third time he burrowed under the bedclothes like a “demented ferret” (glass houses, Harry said), what he was doing. 

“The buttons,” Harry murmured. “Want to undo them.”

“The buttons?”

“The buttons.”

“You sick, kinky twist, Harry Potter.”

Harry unearthed himself, at that. “Shut up? It’s not about the buttons, you horror. It’s about what’s underneath the buttons.”

“How touching.”

And then more teasing, and Harry had it up to here and said, “I’ll burrow again.”

So Draco sat next to him on the bed, robes all secured, and said, softly, but still smiling like a git, “Tell me, love. Why the buttons?”

“You’re just—they’re, you know. So—God,” and then Harry had reached out and rent the sides of Draco’s robes apart, the little cloth covered studs clattering over his polished walnut floors, and pulled Draco down on top of him, and fucked him right there until Draco was late for work, and later still because they’d had to spend half an hour charming the wretched things back into place. 

Now, Draco says, “the buttons are still wonky from that little stunt you pulled.”

Harry can see only Draco’s legs (crossed over each other on the couch, back flat on the ground, because Draco feels it centres him to drape upended from the furniture at the end of a long day) from where he’s decanting the wine in the kitchen. “I’ve always been pants at tailoring charms.”

“Was that a pun?” says Draco, sounding pained. “I’m leaving you, if that was a pun.”

“But then who will do your bidding? Aerate your wine, iron your silk pants—”

“I’ll get a house elf.”

“—not finished, suck your brains out your cock, make you pasta with butter and cheese when it’s cold and you’re in a mood—”

“I’ll get a gigolo, too.”

“I still wasn’t finished,” Harry says, and Levitates the wine into the living room in front of him.

Draco says, “did you get the right glasses, this time?”

“You’re very funny,” Harry says, because after months of trying to educate Harry, Draco has finally accepted that his one true love is cheap beer, and sorted all the wine glasses he keeps at Harry’s flat into labelled little boxes. (‘This is a coupe, Potter. If you bring me red wine in it again, I’ll throw it at you.’ ‘These are for dessert wine — after dinner, before a good hard boffing.’)

“Why don’t you just go snag one of those fucking — sommiliars.”

“Sommelier.” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, happy because Draco’s wearing his work robes and speaking French and looking all twisty, and it’s Friday night, and there’s wine and music from the record Draco put on, and Harry gets to untwist him.

“Did you know,” Draco says, arching his back into a luxurious stretch before rearranging himself right side up and plucking a glass from the air, “that Amantea is starting her own firm.”

“God. Really?”

“Quite. It’s a pro bono thing, evidently. You know she’s been on the exec’s for months about how they direct all their mandatory hours towards corporations, not, you know, people who actually can’t afford legal counsel.”

“‘Course.” Harry distinctly remembers being cornered by Amantea when Draco brought him along to last year's Christmas drinks — he was a decent few in, and Draco kept palming at him through his formal robes when no one was looking, and he thinks he may have agreed to some kind of public crusade in the name of her cause that he doesn’t remember the details of to this day.

“Merlin, that’s incredible. She’s just quit, then? Starting it from the ground up?” 

Draco nods, sips his wine. “She asked me to come with her. Ford, too.” And then, into his glass, “Said yes.” 

Harry chokes, and Draco smirks at him behind the rim while he expires into his Pinot. “Bastard,” Harry coughs.

“Mm,” Draco hums. 

“That’s—fuck, hang on—that’s great, love. Draco, it’s brilliant.”

“Really?” Draco says, tangling his fingers in Harry’s. He can see now that he’s doing that Very Draco Thing where his eyes go a bit too wide and his tongue keeps darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Cause I haven’t quit yet.” 

“Of course. I think it’s really, really incredible.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Any more of that, and I won’t go near your cock for a week.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Harry says, smiling. 

“Two weeks.”

He leans on his haunches, hooks a blond tendril behind Draco’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Draco. Everything you are.”

“A month. A year! Harry,” Draco complains.  

Harry snorts. Sits back. “Fine. So would you still be doing all the same work?”

Draco nods. “I’d still be a defence counsel. I’d just be, you know. Not getting paid. At least, not for a while.”

“Good,” Harry says. “We’ve got a horrific amount of money, between the two of us.” 

“I’m glad you think so, because we’ll be living off your salary alone. What’s the going rate for darling of the Wizarding world?”

Harry walks his fingers over Draco’s knee, daubed in the heavy black wool of his robes. “Several million a year darling. Are you excited, then?”

Draco shuffles around so he can rest his back against the couch, keeping Harry’s palm pressed to his knee with his own hand as he moves. “Yes. Very. I love my job, but the fees they charge our time at are outrageous. I was always thinking, Mother and I wouldn’t have been able to afford that right after the war. Had we even been allowed a solicitor, but don’t get me bloody started.”

Harry thinks that’s Draco down to his bones. He gives cold little glares to people he doesn’t want to talk to, and shrinks in on himself like a turtle whenever Molly tries to hug him at Sunday lunch, and he’s selfish about stupid things, like letting Ron have the last of his chips at pub night. 

And then he does things like drop lunch by Hermione’s office when he has afternoon meetings with the Wizengamot, or quit the job he loves so much, where he’s finally respected and secure, to work for free with Scary Amantea because he actually cares about the abysmal state of the Wizarding justice system, or rent out an entire Muggle theme park for Harry’s birthday, because he’d said, off handed, one night in Draco’s arms, that he’d always been left behind when the Dursley’s took Dudley as a child. 

“You’re so nice,” Harry says. 

Draco frowns. “Take it back.” 

Harry says, “Won’t,” and gives him a good, slow kiss that tastes like wine. Wine from a proper glass. 

“I have bad news, too,” Draco says into Harry’s lips. 

Harry can’t think of how anything could be bad, wrong, when Draco’s mouth is so soft and so close, but he murmurs, “What,” anyway. 

“No dress code, at the new firm.” 

Harry pulls back, stricken. “No more buttons?”

“Less regular buttons,” Draco amends, and Harry places a protective hand over Draco’s clavicles.  

“This is completely tragic,” Harry says. 

“Dare I say, Potter, you’ll just have to make the most of them. While you can.”

Harry nods, leans down again, a hand either side of Draco’s hips, and kisses him again. 

When he pulls back, it’s so he can get his hands on the reeling column of buttons that runs from Draco’s navel to his Adam’s apple. 

There was a certain carnal appeal in tearing them off him that first time, but now Harry likes this. His hands on Draco, his mouth following. Pushing the silken studs through the loops, undressing Draco inch by milk white inch. 

“Yes,” Draco says, as Harry licks and nips his way down every bit of skin he exposes. When Draco swallows, Harry feels the movement of it roll beneath his palm. When Draco’s legs fall open, Harry mouths at his hip bone as it shifts under his tongue. 

Harry disrobes himself with slightly less worshipping finesse. Pushes the tailored cloth off Draco’s shoulders, helps him arrange himself underneath Harry, ankles clasped lazily at his back. Fucks him slow, and sweet, and two more times. 

Really, Harry doesn’t know why the robes do it for him so utterly and completely. They look kind of like the type of thing a vicar would wear, which is also what Harry remembers thinking when he saw Draco in his dress robes at the Yule Ball (although now it’s more a very rich, very sleek sort of vicar vibe, and less of the fusty, I-took-a-celibacy-oath-at-thirteen-and-am- now-seventy-two thing he had going back then. With all the velvet. Draco looks much better in silk. Anyway.)    

On that, it’s probably because it’s a reminder that it’s Malfoy who he’s with. Malfoy, not Death Eater, tormentor, but pale limbs, plush, pink mouth and naked vulnerability before him. It’s how far they’ve both come, and how Draco presents himself to the world — so far away from what Harry gets to see. What’s Harry’s. What’s theirs. 

“Also,” Draco says, when Harry tells him this in bed that night, “I look positively indecent in black.”

[ckneal]

Now, I’ve been around fanfiction long enough to know that in any angel-turns-human AU story, there is one question that burns brighter than all the rest: What about their first sick day?

Well, I’ll tell you this: That first year after the rapture, out of the two of them, Adam is actually the first one to get sick. He picks up a really, truly nasty, slowburn of cold about a month after bringing Michael home. And, aware that he had just taken a huge chunk of time off (convincing Sam and Dean to help bring Michael out of the Empty was not an overnight task, nor teaching Jack how to make a new human body from scratch), Adam initially tried to smother the growing ailment with over-the-counter remedies and sheer willpower, while this bug steadily asserted dominance, laying waste to his sinuses, building up pressure inside his head, and settling into his chest and making itself heard in his throat. Three days in, his boss finally sent him home because everyone knew, even if he was refusing to say that he was sick. Michael, of course, was relieved to see Adam finally resign himself to bedrest, even though the entire situation is a sharp reminder of the fact that Michael is no longer a divine being, capable of healing with a touch. He feels all the more useless when Adam, well-meaning but also speaking through a haze of cold medicine and the beginnings of a fever, tells Michael he should keep his distance, because who knows how badly his cold would hit someone with virtually no antibodies.

Adam then passed out for the majority of the day, while Michael proceeded to mope in the living room, feeling like he’d been banished, pretending to have something to do but really just moving things around the room that were perfectly fine as they were before. He’d given up, gone online, and scrolled past the third post on his favorite Supernatural site that he normally would have jumped to correct on their misinterpretation of lore had he not been so preoccupied (never mind that he still hasn’t actually read his father’s books), before it struck him that he does know what to do in this situation.

Adam had shared a lot of memories in the cage, particularly during the years right after Lucifer’s departure, when they were first alone together and Michael was more guarded when it came to participating in conversation. Many of those memories had been from Adam’s childhood that he had deemed “harmless.” And as such, while Michael was new to the practice of being around sickness, Michael actually did know how to take care of someone. At least, he knew how Kate would have taken care of Adam. While never having met Kate Milligan, Michael was aware that she had been very young when she had Adam and that she had raised him alone, that she worked often, and that as Adam got older, it became increasingly difficult for her to take time off from work to care for him when he became ill. But she would do what she could in her off hours.

One of those things was preparing meals in advance that Adam could pick from as needed. Michael wasn’t overly acquainted with cooking at that point, but luckily, Kate hadn’t been either. She would buy premade items from the grocery store and alter them at home. Adam’s favorite had been half and half peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, which had been made by purchasing dough for both confections and simply meshing them together before baking. Oddly, the more difficult item to find was the soup. It was canned, but Kate had stuck to a specific brand, because it had been Adam’s favorite brand during a brief period of pickiness when he was eight. It didn’t appear to be as common in the city where Adam and Michael had settled as it had been in Minnesota during the 90s. Fortunately, Michael had stolen Adam’s phone before going shopping, and a stranger he came across in the greeting cards section at the drug store showed him how to use the map function to locate various stores nearby.

Adam managed to sleep through the racket that ensued from Michael coming home and fumbling his way through what, make no mistake, could only very loosely have been called cooking--Michael managing to unsettle a tower of stacked mixing bowls and burn himself on both the stovetop and interior of the oven--Adam only finally waking up when his nose cleared long enough for the smells to reach him. Michael was standing by, and Adam very quickly found himself being pushed onto his back when he opted to sit up.

“Michael? Get out of here, you’re going to get sick.”

“Not if you don’t breathe on me,” Michael said, quoting a memory from when Adam was nine that he knew wasn’t strictly true, but did not particularly care. He had a jar of Vicks Vaporub in hand and was pulling Adam’s shirt out of the way.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dinner. Hold still.”

“Since when do you cook?”

“Since a half hour ago, hold still.”

Despite twice repeating the instruction, it’s only when Michael straddles Adam that Adam actually lays still. He continues to press for details though, because Adam does recognize the aroma drifting in from the kitchen, and while he doesn’t particularly remember sharing those memories, he isn’t so much surprised that Michael does (Michael’s recall verges on obsessive), as he is by the fact that Michael actually did something with it. In the month since leaving Kansas, Michael only very rarely left their apartment, and never on his own.

Had it not been for the fact that he was determined to wait for Michael to decide when they would be back on those terms, Adam might have forgotten he was contagious and kissed Michael right then.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I wanted to.”

Michael only looked up from Adam’s chest and noticed the way Adam was looking at him when Adam’s hand settled on top of his. That was, additionally, the moment when it struck Michael he was straddling Adam, and that the last time one of them had done that to the other, one of them hadn’t actually been physically real, and that they hadn’t done what they’d been doing then in a fairly long time. Of course, it hadn’t seemed strange to him to get into this position a second ago, as, in terms of Michael’s projections, they had done a lot more than kiss, and their relationship with one another hadn’t changed at its core since, but in terms of Michael being a physically present being in a body of his own, they hadn’t actually. . .

“Michael?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“I’m pretty sure I smell smoke.”

And then all at once, Michael was scrambling off the bed, the moment hastily pushed aside in his rush to save the cookies (which were burnt, but a benefit of Kate’s “recipe” was that there was plenty of dough leftover for new batches). By the time that Michael came back, Adam had remembered that he was a breathing germ farm and subsequently put his bedroom eyes away, and Michael suggested they relocate to the couch and watch the obnoxious devil show that Adam liked (Lucifer) while they ate.

Of course, despite Adam’s gradually flagging efforts to keep Michael at a distance for the sake of his health, Michael wound up catching the cold and would spend the next two weeks buried under every blanket they owned while Adam returned the favor of taking care of him. Because Adam was right, he had no antibodies, of course he was going to get sick.

[marjansmarwani]

Becoming a Home

2.2k || ao3

Carlos Reyes had always wanted his house to be a home. Moving out and buying a house of his own showed him that was more difficult than he had thought and in time he came to accept that maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Until a certain Firefighter barreled his way into his life, that is. Now he thinks they might just be on their way there.  

----------

Day 1 of @911lonestarweek: “You’re the only one for me” + Romance

This was inspired by a fic that @justaswampdemon has been working on because I love the idea but while her’s is funny (and wonderful, you’ll all need to read it while it’s done) I wanted to do something a little more introspective. 

Beta’d by @silvarafael

-------------

Carlos Reyes had grown up in a home, not a house. 

His mother had always been purposeful to make it so. Their home was always filled to the brim with family, laughter, food, and love. Carlos could scarcely remember a day in which their home had ever been silent. He knew for a fact that it had never felt cold, that not once had it ever been impersonal. It had always been a comfort; perpetually warm and welcoming. 

When he had moved out, had settled down in a house of his own; he had strived to do the same. But despite his best efforts, it turned out to be more difficult than he had imagined. He opened his doors and his heart and waited, hoping to replicate that same feeling; that same warmth. Friends and dates and boyfriends filtered through, coming and going from time to time without ever leaving any mark behind. 

Even Michelle - his most frequent visitor - floated in and out, never really seeming to settle. She was comfortable there, sure; but Michelle Blake was comfortable everywhere she went. Carlos didn’t take it personally. He knew more than most how much she had going on and where her mind was when it was somewhere else. He told himself all these fleeting interactions were fine, that he preferred it that way; that he appreciated the silence and solitude. 

He almost believed it too. 

He settled into a rhythm, learned to love the peace and quiet. It gave him time to focus on him; to explore the things that he loved. He read more books, he blasted his music, he tried new recipes. He even enjoyed it; this time to himself.  But the desire for more, for that familiar warmth of a home was always there, a thought always relegated to the back of his mind. But what he had was fine, it would do for now. 

Enter TK Strand, who blew up Carlos’s entire existence without even trying. 

At first, it’s no different from the others: he comes and goes; quick hookups and frantic kisses before he’s back out the door and Carlos is left trying to catch his breath. Then Carlos tries to do too much too soon and even those hookups are over, for a while. 

Eventually, they find their way back to each other and though it is tentative and careful, it’s something, Carlos is sure of it. The hookups become less frantic, the time spent lingering increases. TK is there more and more often and maybe, just maybe, it feels right. 

Then the universe interrupts with a bang - literally. 

The day TK is shot Carlos came home from the hospital to his empty condo and does not think he has ever hated the silence more. He and TK may not have a label but they are something and now TK is hurt and Carlos doesn’t know what to do with himself, with all this pain in his heart.

He leaned against the door, trying not to remember how they had woken up together just this morning - an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent. It was becoming common enough that Carlos was almost optimistic enough to hope that it would be a sign of things to come. 

But that couldn’t happen if TK was dead. 

He banished that thought from his head as he pushed himself off the door and strode purposefully towards the kitchen. No, he wouldn’t even let himself think it; he wouldn’t even put that idea out into the universe. What he needed was a distraction, something to focus on that wasn’t the thought of TK in a coma, that wasn’t the memory of hearing the gunshot and just knowing that something was wrong. 

Dwelling on it wouldn’t do him any good, he knew that. He needed a distraction and so he gravitated to the kitchen, as he so often did. He would make bread, he decided: something labor-intensive and precise. Besides, the idea of kneading something was appealing right now. 

He set about pulling out the ingredients, steadying his breathing as he went. He reminded himself that he had every reason to be optimistic, that there was no real reason to expect the worst. TK had received treatment immediately, had been rushed to the hospital within minutes. He had everything going for him; as much as someone who had been shot could, at least. It worked, if even only a little. 

Then he turned to the sink to get the water he would need for the dough, and the sight of two coffee mugs - sitting innocently side by side, waiting to be washed - almost toppled him. 

He remembered now the quick moment where he had slid them into the sink before he and TK had walked out the door. He could see TK’s grin as he sipped from his mug clear as day, raising his eyebrows suggestively as Carlos had lamented that if they had gotten moving sooner they could have had time for breakfast too. He had fired back some quip about them choosing exercise over food that had caused Carlos to laugh, nearly choking on his coffee in the process. 

The image in his head of that moment was filled with a warmth he had felt more and more. It was the feeling he had been seeking all along, the sensation he had always wanted to feel from his home. He had been starting to feel the beginnings of it with TK. He didn’t want to lose that;  he didn’t want to lose him. He was so close to having the home that he wanted, the life that he had pictured for himself was in reach. 

But it had become increasingly more apparent to Carlos that a certain firefighter was an integral part of the equation. He had been trying for years only to find that there had been a missing piece all along. 

Carlos didn’t know what it was: his laughter, his smile, his voice or maybe a little bit of everything. What was certain was that TK made his house feel like home. He had brought mess and noise into his otherwise clean and orderly life and Carlos knew without a doubt that it was exactly what he had needed. He didn’t want to lose that, he didn’t think he could handle it. After so long he had finally found exactly what he had been looking for. He just needed someone or something in the universe to listen, to take pity. He just needed TK to be okay. 

Everything after that would be fine, Carlos was sure of it. 

--------------

Someone in the universe must have been listening because TK is okay, in the end. And after a bit of confusion, so are they. 

More than okay actually, in Carlos’s opinion. They wanted to start fresh but having already laid all of the foundations, it was no time at all before they fell into comfortable patterns. That warmth Carlos had noticed and longed for returned and it filled his home with every laugh and smile the other man shared. 

TK became more of a fixture at the condo; stuck waiting outside for Carlos to get home enough that Carlos gave him a key. He jokes it’s so that the neighbors won’t call the cops about a suspicious man loitering, but really it’s an offering; a stepping stone. A gesture to say that he hopes that maybe this could be TK’s home too, someday. 

Slowly his things started joining Carlos’s: a change of clothes in the drawer, his running shoes by the door.  A cheesy figurine TK had brought for Carlos as a joke, a vase they had bought at the farmer’s market because TK thought it would look nice in the entryway. The charger for his AirPods in the kitchen and the change from his pocket on the nightstand. Small and inconsequential bits of his life maybe, but tangible proof that TK had been here and that he planned to come back. 

Soon it is not just TK’s things filling the space but his friends as well. Carlos had offered to host them all once the pandemic hit as a way to maintain some sense of normalcy. He hadn’t been sure what to expect with inviting an entire fire station into his condo (though he did have a private laugh at the look of horror he could picture from his dad, the Texas Ranger, at the very thought) but the sound of laughter and casual banter-filled his kitchen and his heart in a way he had almost forgotten. 

It wasn’t long before his friends became their friends and that warmth he had been chasing for so long lingered more and more. He felt it in the sound of laughter and light conversation, he felt the heat of it lingering as he and TK lay in each other’s arms on the couch, stealing a moment of solitude before they cleaned up from the evening's festivities. 

It’s on one such night, while they were cleaning up, that Carlos noticed TK was quieter than usual. They worked in companionable silence but Carlos stole glances at the other man as he put away the clean dishes, trying to decipher the storm in his head. Minutes passed and Carlos was about to ask what was on his mind when TK spoke. 

“Your house must have been so quiet, before.” 

Carlos looked up from the sink with a start to see TK surveying the space thoughtfully. “I’m definitely sure there were no rowdy firefighters eating all your food.” 

“You don’t know that,” Carlos countered, “maybe I had some secret firefighter friends before you came to town.” 

“I don’t think so, babe,” TK retorted with a raised eyebrow, “firefighters are awful gossips, I would have heard” 

“It has been a change,” Carlos agreed, thinking about the smile that had come across his face at the sound of laughter drifting through his living room and the sight of their friends smiling as he sat with his arms around TK on the couch just a few hours ago. It was so different from his life before, but in the best possible way.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be with someone who didn’t bring this level of chaos to your life?” TK asked and though his tone was kept purposefully light Carlos could hear the doubt lurking directly behind the words. 

“No,” Carlos said decisively, shutting off the water and turning to face TK, stepping forward and placing his hands on the other man’s hips, and meeting his eyes. They were so full of doubt that it caused a physical ache to shoot through Carlos’s core. He held them though as he said his next words very clearly, need to make sure TK understood that there was no doubt in his mind: “You’re the only one for me. Friends and all, no one else even comes close. You are it for me, Tyler Kennedy.” 

There is silence in the wake of his words, but Carlos knows in his heart it is a different quiet than he had been so accustomed to. It wasn’t cold or impersonal, it didn’t echo with solitude and loneliness. It was a comfortable silence of two people coexisting; using the silence to hear each other, to grow. It was just another piece of the home he had been trying to build. 

“I never liked the quiet,” he admitted, hands still on TK’s waist. “Growing up, our house was never quiet.” 

“Mine always was,” TK confessed, “there was never anybody around to make it not be quiet. I hated it.” 

His voice was soft as he admitted that and Carlos tightened his grip on his waist, pulling him closer. 

“I never wanted my home to feel like that,” he told TK honestly. “All I have ever wanted is for my home to be full of warmth and laughter and love. I never had those until you came along. You’ve made my house into a home, Ty. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly thank you for that.” 

When TK looked up to meet his eyes Carlos was startled to see that they were full of tears. He reached up a hand to cup Carlos’s face as he spoke: “You are home to me, Carlos. You have been for a while. If anything, I should be thanking you. What we have together? It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of. To know that you are happy is all I could ever ask for.”

Carlos leaned into TK’s touch, savoring the warmth and familiarity of it. He thought about the words TK had just shared and the key that he offered not so long ago. He saw a life for them together; filled with laughter and love and friends and family. He had been too afraid to ask, still wary from the early days when pushing had almost been their end, determined to not seek too much too soon and risk it all. But the way TK was holding his gaze left few questions in Carlos’s mind. All he would have to do is ask, and it would be done. He leaned in closer, capturing TK’s mouth in a kiss that he hoped conveyed the words he couldn’t say just yet, to tell him what he now knew. 

Because this moment had made him sure: this was their home now and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[98prilla]

I Won’t Say I’m in Love

I had an idea at 2am that Janus sarcastically asks Roman to marry him during arguments, but each time he asks he means it a little more until he realizes he’s completely in love with Roman, until he can’t stand the rejection anymore and runs away because Roman would never believe him if he admitted his feelings, only for Roman to come after him and propose instead. 

This isn’t quite that, though it is in a similar vein. I started with that idea and it evolved into this. That being said, if anyone wants to take the original idea and run with it, feel free, just remember to tag me!

AO3

...

         The first time he asks, he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. They’re in the middle of an argument, him and Logan against Roman and Patton, Virgil staying out of it, either because he didn’t have an opinion or he didn’t want to get involved.

           “Roman, you’re absolutely charming right now. Won’t you marry me already?” He snaps, breath hissing in and out, and everyone freezes at his comment. Roman’s face has gone red, from anger or embarrassment, he can’t tell, but the longer the silence goes on, the more he feels his own shame at his words burning at his throat. “sorry. That was… out of line.” He mumbles, adjusting his capelet.

           “I apologize, also. You are correct, I have not been my most… chivalrous, this afternoon. Perhaps… perhaps we should all take a break, to calm down. Then we can work out a… compromise?” Roman says, face flushing redder at the question in his voice. The moment is broken by Virgil slow clapping from the stairs.

           “Wooow, both of you apologized and Princey suggested a compromise? It’s a miracle!”

           “Yes, thank you, Virgil. Your sarcasm had been duly noted, and disregarded. Now. Don’t come get me when we’re ready to start over.” He comments, popping back to his room before anyone else has time to comment.

…

         The second time, he’s had a bad day. He feels heavy and disjointed, not all there, not all focused. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, he just knows he didn’t sleep well and he can’t seem to get comfortable, so he forces himself out of bed and down the stairs, dragging his blanket behind him, before collapsing on the couch. It’s almost 1pm, far later than his usual first appearance in the commons since the whole wedding debacle, since he was accepted, truly, since he was welcomed.

           He doesn’t remember drifting off, but he shoots awake as he feels a hand on his shoulder, letting out a small groan, having flung his arm over his eyes at some point.

           “What on earth could possibly be important enough to disturb me for, Roman?” he asks, wincing at the pounding that has started near his temple.

           “Are you okay?” He snorts at the question, rolling his eyes as he halfheartedly glares at Roman.

           “Just peachy.” He snarks, and Roman backs away, hands in the air. He can feel Roman’s eyes on him as he left the room, and sinks deeper into the couch. He’s surprised when a moment later, Roman returns from the kitchen, sitting down next to him.

           “Alright. Here you go.” He looks down at the table, a bit confused.

           “What… is this?” Roman looks at him, lip quirked up in a half smile.

           “Well that, is a glass of water. And that is something for the headache you’ve got cooking in your noggin. And those are crackers, since you have not eaten anything all day.” He looks slowly up at Roman, eyes narrowed.

           “I am not sick.” Roman’s eyebrow raises.

           “I did not say that. You, however, just did.” He groans, sinking even further into the blanket, so his eyes are just barely visible.

           “I do not get sick.” He mumbles.

           “Of course not, bananaconda. Now take the medicine.” He sighs, but complies, drinking the rest of the water and nibbling at some crackers as well. He barely notices Roman getting up, coming back a moment later with a Gatorade, and dimming the lights. He breathes a sigh of relief as some of the pain dissipates.

           “God, I could marry you right now.” He mumbles, finding the Gatorade is cold, and he lets Roman rest a cold rag on his forehead.  

           “I think the fever’s getting to your head, Jan.” He doesn’t reply, just hums and closes his eyes, trying to squash down the warm, fuzzy feeling starting to grow in his chest.

…      

         The third time he doesn’t say it. He’s in his room, relaxing in his plush desk chair. He’d been doing a color by number, choosing whatever color he wanted for each number instead of going by the recommended color chart.

           He hears a knock on his door, and gets up, confused when he sees no one there. Then he looks down, and sees a small gift basket, wrapped in a red ribbon with a small card printed with Roman’s logo. He rolls his eyes, and brings it inside, smiling as he unpacks it.

           There’s a collection of lotions, each of which smells deep and heady, just the kind of scent he loves. There’s also a few moisturizing oils, for his scales, which he’s a bit grateful for, he can tell his shed is about to start and making his own was a bit of a hassle. He laughs at the small snake plushie, but drapes it across his bed’s headboard anyway, smiling fondly as he leans against the bed for a moment, before his eyes widen and he nearly slaps himself.

           No. no no no, he cannot do this, he cannot do this to himself, he will not be so stupidly naïve.

           He is not in love with Roman.

…

         The rest come in small moments of delight, of happiness, moments where he forgets to deny himself what he cannot have, when he cannot squash the fondness inside of him, when he forgets to push down the silent, useless emotion he refuses to give credence to.

Playing Mario Kart, and he exploits every loophole and shortcut, strategically laying bananas, somehow always avoiding the blue shell when he is in first, slowing down enough someone passes him and gets hit instead, Roman cursing his skill, every time demanding another round, both of them grinning and sweating by the end of their tournament.

…      

Roman gets up early one morning, makes breakfast. When he comes into the kitchen, Roman slides a plate of waffles, covered in homemade whipped cream and chocolate shavings in front of him, along with a coffee filled with the perfect amount of froth, a heart patterned on it. His own nearly stops, breathless.

            “Morning sleepy serpent.” He mumbles something, heart stopping at how beautiful Roman looks, still in his pajamas, hair sleep mussed, but eyes bright, light from the window shining onto him as he turns back to the stove, flipping pancakes, humming, then singing, belting out showtunes. He catches himself almost sighing at how sweet Roman’s voice is, before he snaps out of his trance, just barely getting his emotions under control as Patton comes barreling down the stairs, summoned by Disney and the smell of pancakes.

…

         It’s a late night, they’ve had a movie marathon and the others all turned in hours ago, giving up one by one, Virgil the latest to leave. He is debating the morals of Disney characters, tearing apart the heroes and defending the villains.

           “How was he to know that toys are alive? He was using his creativity, to combine and make new, original, toys! If he hadn’t been traumatized by Woodie and Co, maybe he would have ended up an engineer instead of a garbage man.”

           “Ugh, fine! You have me on that one. It’s technically Pixar, anyway.” Roman mutters, and he laughs. “Since you concede there, I’ll give you Scar.” Roman looks at him, eyebrows raised in confusion.

           “Seriously? I figured you’d defend him to the death.” He shrugs, yawning.

           “Mostly due to the cut song where he tries to… let’s generously call it ‘woo’, Nala, which is why she leaves to find help in the first place. Plus, he never really wanted change or peace, he just framed his alliance with the hyenas in that manner to gain control. Besides, everyone knows it’s better to be loved than feared. If you really want complete control, make every choice seem like their own, make every action seem benign or like a favor. Get what you want by making it seem like what the people want.” Roman is staring at him, agape, and he flushes.

 He winces, because of course he ruined this, they were having a moment, and he ruined it. “… I’ll give you Ursula, if we’re counting cut scenes. She was technically overthrown and banished by Triton, though she did nothing wrong. Her vengeance is a bit extreme, but she at least had good reason for it, and really only wanted what was always supposed to be hers.” Roman answers after a moment, and he nearly sighs in relief, though he gets the feeling they were both talking about more than just Disney villains.

           He’s absolutely mortified, and not at all the least bit pleased when he’s awoken the next morning by Virgil, smiling smugly at him, having fell asleep, head resting on Roman’s chest, Roman’s arm around his shoulder, a blanket pulled up over the two of them. He certainly strives to make sure it never happens again.

…

He's a mess. A miserable, stupid, mess. He can't stop thinking of Roman, can’t stop striving for his smiles, the soft, fond one he receives in moments of quiet, the bright, mischievous one that brings out his dimples, the small, confused one when he didn’t understand why he was pulling away. His laugh, loud and ringing, the nicknames bestowed upon him at every chance, the small, subtle touches that sent his heart racing and his mind into overdrive and he was burning, aching, from want.

 The desire to run his fingers through Roman's hair, to feel his hands around his waist, to kiss him until they were both silly from it, to say every sweet word and guileless truth about how absolutely perfectly stunning Roman is, to defend him and his ideas, to protect him from his own self doubts and negative thinking, to repair every crack he himself had made in Roman's armor, to apologize a thousand times until the side knew he absolutely truly meant every word of flattery he had ever said.

 He hisses at a knock on his door, drawing back into the shadows. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, he doesn’t want to see anyone, he just wants to wallow in his misery until this wrenching heartbreak goes away and leaves him alone! It’s no use, wanting something he can’t have. He won’t lie to himself and say otherwise.

 “Kiddo? You okay?” Patton, who can probably feel his emotional distress from miles away.

 “I'm fine.” He forces out, wrangling his voice into some sense of normalcy, wincing at the acrid lie on his tongue. He can feel Patton's hesitation, but the fatherly figure sighs.

 “Alright. But Jan? If you decide that you’re not fine, you know I’m here for you.” Then Patton walks away, and he’s only mildly surprised to feel wetness dripping down his cheeks.

 “I’m fine.” He whispers, curling in on himself, choking on tears. “I’m perfectly fine.”

…

Day three is when it all falls apart. He hasn’t left his room, he hasn’t moved much from his curled up spot on the floor, and it hurts why does it still hurt?

 He thought if he just stayed away, if he put distance between himself and Roman, if… if he detoxed it would go away, these pesky, useless feelings would go away!

 But they haven’t. They’re still pounding away with every beat of his heart, and he’s half convinced it would be better to just rip the stupid thing out than let it make such a fool of him.

 He knows limits. He understands them, he knows how far he can push the others before they start to break, he knows how much to push to make them give, he knows how far he can push before things start well and truly crumbling to ruin, and he knows, better than any of the others, his own limits.

 He knows what he can and cannot have, he knows how to be selfish without taking too much, and he knows this is something he cannot take, something he will never be given. He’s still the serpent, after all, still the liar, still the deceiver, still the snake in the grass, waiting to strike. He’s said I love you a thousand times to Roman, meant it more and more with each iteration, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to be loved. Not by Roman, whom he had broken so badly not so long ago, accidently, yes, and he had apologized, but still. He’d known how fragile the ego was, how tightly he was clinging to the final thread, and he’d still cut the strand without a second thought. He’s not to be trusted, least of all by himself, even his own heart has turned against him.

 “Janus? Can I come in?” He freezes at that voice, it makes his stomach sink and his pulse race and he feels a strange sense of vertigo.

 “No.” He says, as deadpan as possible, as much emphasis as he can, and he can almost see the frown on Roman’s face.

 “You haven’t been out in three days. Are you sick again?”

 “I’m fine, Roman, go bother someone else!” He spits out, anger creeping into his voice, because Roman is the source of this festering wound, even if he doesn’t know it. If he’s angry, he won’t be sad, angry he can do, angry he can fake as well as anyone.

 “no you’re not. I’m coming in.” He curses, lunging to his feet, but the door is already open before he has even a hope of locking it, and he and Roman stare at each other for a silent moment, before he looks away, biting his tongue. “Jesus, Jan. What happened to you?” He winces, knowing he must look a mess, knowing his hair is tangled and wild from running his hands through it so often, his face is a mess of dried tears and dark bags, his clothes are rumpled and wrinkled and his normally immaculate room is a bit dusty.

 “Nothing. Now go away.” He demands, turning to stalk to his desk. He feels a hand on his shoulder, warmth blooms down his arm, and he inhales sharply, turning and actually slapping Roman as he stumbles back, barely aware of the tears streaming down his eyes, because this is so goddamn hard. “Don’t. Don’t touch me, Roman.” He spits, venom in his voice, eyes sharp and fangs sharper. He hates this, hates playing this part again, but he needs Roman to leave.  

 “ok. I’m sorry, I should have asked.” He chokes on his bitter laughter because damn it, Roman is the perfect gentleman, isn’t he? He’s stepped back, hands raised in the air, the only thing on his face concern, not anger, or fear, or pain at the handprint still red across his cheek. “please, Janus. I know you’re hurting. I just want to know why, I just want to help.” He laughs this time, a wild, harsh sound.

 “That’s cute, Roman, but this isn’t one of your fairy tale quests where you rescue a damsel in distress. This is real life, with real problems, and maybe, for once, you should let it get through your thick skull that this ISN’T ONE YOU CAN FIX!” He screams, letting his words be cold, letting them be cruel, as he crumples to the floor, heaving, gasping in air through the shaking sobs squeezing tight his chest. “you can’t fix me.” He whispers, not caring if Roman hears, because what’s the point? He’s a pathetic, mewling lump, and surely after that display Roman will leave, warned off by his extremeness.

 “Janus.” He flinches at his name, whispered so softly, so gently, almost holding the thing he wishes more than anything his name would contain, coming from Roman’s lips, but that hope is a lie, a deceitful, monstrous lie, just like the rest of him. “why do you think you’re broken?” He doesn’t answer. He won’t answer, he won’t say it aloud, not now, not when Roman will see how much he actually means it. He squeezes his hands into fists, forcing his chin up, forcing himself to glare at Roman.

 “You should leave. Before I answer that question honestly.” He bares his fangs in a snarl, gold covering his pupils, racing throughout the room, lighting it up with a thousand pretty little lies that echo in Roman’s ears, telling him exactly how worthless and useless and pathetic he is, and he hisses for good measure, standing and sauntering over to Roman, leering at him.

 “I’m the dragon guarding the tower, I’m the hydra fighting Hercules, I’m the snake here to lead you astray, I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, I stand against everything you’ve ever believed in, little prince. You’d be so easy to dispose of. Then who could stop me, hmmm? No one. I could kill you right where you stand, and no one would ever know a thing, my greatest performance would be replacing you. Or do you forget what I am, Roman, what I well and truly am?” He stands back, fangs sharp as he grins, letting out a dark, sinister laugh, one that reverberates off the walls, and something is breaking inside him, something is cracking and crumbling and he hates himself, hates every moment, but if Roman hates him, too, then he’ll just go.

 “Janus.” Roman says again, so soft, and his grin falters, his mask slips for a moment before he rights it, scowling as Roman steps forwards, undaunted, something strange in his eyes, something soft and worried. “you don’t have to do this.” He stumbles back at Roman’s words, shaking his head.

 “stop.”

 “I know you’re afraid. That’s why you’re doing this, you’re scared, and that’s ok.” He’s shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to push back the tears.

 “Stop.”

 “I know you don’t mean it, Jan. And I won’t run away just because of a few threats. I want to help you, I want to be there, I want you to trust me enough to tell me what is hurting you so terribly… please.” He feels Roman’s hand on his, and he jerks back, hitting the wall, eyes snapping open, breath coming in short gasps, and he wraps his arms around himself, shaking.

 “STOP IT!” He shouts, voice breaking into a million pieces, and the gold vanishes, his façade crumbling, only raw emotion left in his voice. “Stop caring, stop asking to help, stop acting like you’re my friend, stop being kind, stop being so fucking nice to me, stop getting inside my head, stop making me feel happy being near you, stop sending butterflies winging through my stomach, stop making me smile, stop making me laugh, stop being so fucking incredible that I can’t help but love you!” He screams, jabbing his finger into Roman’s chest with every word, tears falling down his face as he finally says it, all the fight draining out of him as he collapses, empty, caught by Roman, who lowers them both gently to the floor.

 He doesn’t have the will to pull away from Roman’s all encompassing embrace. He doesn’t have the strength left to silence the tears, to force Roman out, to go back to being alone.

 Shame curdles in his stomach as he breathes in Roman’s scent, lilacs and sweet summer breezes, as he melts against Roman’s chest, as his hands fist the fabric of Roman’s shirt and he sobs, hopelessly sobs, because this is an empty victory. Once he manages to pull away, he’ll see the pity and disgust on Roman’s face, and this, this will be well and truly over.

 “I’m s-orry. I’m so, s-so s-sorry, I didn’t mean f-for this to happen, I h-hoped it would just go away but they won’t, and I’m s-sorry…” he gasps, shaking, exhaustion cresting over him, and despite himself the ache is being soothed, because Roman is holding him, and then he just feels sick at his own selfish want.

 “Oh, my little mocking jay, why didn’t you just say something?” He laughs at that, throat raw and scratched.

 “because then you’d know. And it would all be over, anyway. You don’t love me, you could never love me, I’m not nearly good enough for you, I’m not good at all, really. I’m not… I’m not what you want, Roman. I can never be what you want me to be. And I just… I just keep hurting you.” He whispers, heart shattering a little more as Roman pulls back, and he closes his eyes, taking a huge breath in, trying to control the crushing, plunging depths of his despair.

 “Janus. Who says you aren’t already exactly what I want?” His breath catches at Roman’s words, at the tenderness they hold, at the painful hope blooming in his chest. He trembles as he feels Roman rest a hand on his scaled cheek, gently stroking the scales with his thumb.

 “don’t lie to me, Roman. Please, I can’t… it already hurts so much, I can’t listen to you lie to me.”

 “Does it feel like I’m lying, dearest?” It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. Slowly, he opens his eyes, meeting Roman’s worried, soft… loving… gaze. “I love you, Janus. You’re funny, and smart, and I love your sarcasm, your half awake morning bedhead, how you gesture when you’re passionate, how all your emotion lives in your eyes.” Roman murmurs, a small, warm smile on his lips as he moves his hand, stroking back a stray piece of hair. “I love you for so many miniscule reasons it would take me a thousand thousand years to list them all. I would have told you sooner, darling, but I didn’t want to pressure you, not while you were still settling in.”

 “Roman…” he says weakly, he’s so flat out tired, so worn down and hollow and empty that he doesn’t even know what to say, what to feel, except this warming in his chest slowly spreading to the rest of him, making him feel lighter than he had in ages.

 “come here, dearest.” Roman says, and he can’t help but collapse into Roman’s lap, letting the creative side pull him close, pressing his head against Roman’s chest, more tears slipping out as he feels Roman gently stroking his back, cradling his head, murmuring soft assurances and words of gentle warmth, and repeated, wonderful, ‘I love you’s’ that ring true every time, and all he can do is keep clinging to Roman, praying he doesn’t wake up from this dream.

 Then Roman tilts his chin up, his pulse jumping at the touch, then Roman’s lips are on his and he melts at the explosion of warmth and color and light sparking in his mind, and he’s pressing forwards, desperate, and Roman is soft and warm and perfect and it’s everything, it’s everything he’s wanted for so, so long now.

 When they finally break apart, he’s breathless and flushed and the broken emptiness is almost gone, almost fully replaced with hope and love and light, and he laughs as Roman sweeps him off his feet, holding him bridal style as he showers his face in small kisses, each one making him flush redder and redder, until he yawns, despite himself.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, are my affections boring you, pretty little liar?” Roman teases, and he grins, nuzzling against Roman’s chest, letting out a soft breath that seems to untie the last lingering knot in his chest.

 “Obviously. What a trial.” He mumbles, feeling Roman stroking his hair again, realizing his eyes have slipped closed.

 “When did you last sleep, mi amor?” He shrugs, he doesn’t know, honestly, and now that Roman is holding him, it’s the only thing his body wants, it takes everything in him not to just fall asleep now. “alright. Let’s get you to bed then. We can talk more in the morning.”  

 “stay. Please.” He asks, nearly begs, eyes flying wide with sudden fear, suddenly sure that if Roman walks out the door, he’ll wake to find he was dreaming, because there’s no way this is real, no way Roman loves him.

 “of course, little hisser. I wouldn’t dream of leaving my beloved alone and unprotected from any foul nightmares that may come his way.” Roman soothes, sliding into bed with him still in his arms, immediately spooning gently around him, and he shifts closer, closing the little space there was left between them, until their legs are entangled and his forehead is resting in the crook of Roman’s shoulder, and Roman’s arms are around him, and he’s still holding tight to Roman’s shirt, feeling him exhale against his cheek.

 “I love you, lovely. Now get some rest.” And finally, he does.

[dreamingofscully]

no night but shadows

rating: explicit // length: 5366 words // classification: ust to rst, season 2, post-ep (f. emasculata), canon divergent or canon compliant (your choice) // summary: a worried mulder shows up at scully’s apartment late at night

thank you to @suitablyaggrieved​ @starbuckthirteen​ @fragilevixenfic​ @impulsive-astrophile​ for the amazing reviews and betas. love ya❤️

tagging @today-in-fic​

***

SCULLY’S APARTMENT, 1:15AM

Mulder hesitates, the smooth wood under his palm coolly unaware of the turmoil just beneath his skin. Making himself push forward, he knocks, not knowing and yet afraid of certainty.

His heart speeds up when he doesn’t hear someone right away. The turning of the lock abates his fear, but only a little. He’s still not sure if he’ll be faced with her mother, her sister, or her God, ready to cast judgment upon him. He’s relieved when he sees her shining red hair and curious expression.

“Mulder?”

“Can I come in?”

He told himself that he was only here to make sure his life hadn’t ended, that her report belied the fact that she’d soon be carried off in a plastic coffin to die a horrible, disfiguring death. Her unblemished skin and mild concern, only for him, gives him some courage. The rare comforting space between fear and guilt.

Scully pauses a moment, looks him up and down. She’s wearing her warm white robe, hair gently curled, face scrubbed clean, freckles peeking through the shine on her face. By contrast, he looks like he’s been to hell and back, and knows that she’s wondering if he came from a bar or some unsuccessful X-Files hunt, the product of a bad decision either way. He’s an intruder, disrupting the perfect domesticity that she’s created in her home; of course, she lets him in anyway.

Tossing off his leather jacket, he remembers to remove his shoes and slumps into the embrace of her couch; not a place for sleep or work, but conversation. She sits in the chair opposite him and waits, curling her slippered feet underneath her. He’s thankful for her patient mood.

He stares at his hands, ruminating over just what it is he’s doing here. What it is exactly that he came here for, now that he has confirmation that Scully is safe and sound. When he peers up at her, she raises an eyebrow, smiles slightly. That she doesn’t mind his barging into her life, her home, at ungodly hours gives him hope. Maybe she likes him. Just a little. He doesn’t fucking deserve it, but he holds onto that thought like a cliff’s edge, the sharp rock the only thing preventing his fast descent.

He chuckles and stares at the floor, breaking the uneasy silence that settled over them. He’s glad she can’t read his mind, his overdramatic musings at once too much and yet never enough.

“Did you want some tea? Water?”

He sits back and looks at her again. Despite the hour, she’d been awake when he knocked. The television is paused at some gruesome scene -- Rosemary’s Baby he thinks -- and there’s a giant mug of tea on the table along with a small bowl of disgustingly white unbuttered popcorn. She’s bundled and comfortable, and he thinks about her normal becoming his as well, that it feels right, despite the popcorn. The thought is banished as quickly as it forms -- he doesn’t belong here. He was the reason she’d been awake, the reason she wasn’t sleeping peacefully, as she deserved.

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened at the jail?” He accuses. Scully’s back straightens, and he knows she knows what he means because her eyes don’t harden at his challenge.

She licks her top lip and sighs, looking down at her lap...

“It didn’t matter once I saw you again, I wasn’t infected.” Her hands dance across the terrycloth of her robe. Fidgeting was her tell when she was uncomfortable with something, he knew, and usually he’d back off and let her form her thoughts, but he needed to know.

“Would you have told me if you were?”

Scully’s gaze rises sharply to meet his again, indignant protest in her blue eyes. They battle silently for a moment, but Mulder’s accusation falls flat in the truth of the matter. Of course she would. Closing his eyes, he lays his head back against the couch. He should leave, he has all the answers he needs. He just needs a few seconds to breathe.

He hears the clatter of the remote as she turns off the television, the whisper of her slippers as she crosses to him. The instinct he’d had to bolt at her approach vanishes when she rests her warm hand on his leg.

“Why are you really here, Mulder?” Her voice is soft again, worried.

His rumpled shirt and wild hair tell the truth of his emotional state. She gives and she gives and she gives. Her mind, her trust, her strength. He takes and takes. Her time, her life. But he's left with nothing in the end, while she's bursting, full of everything he wants but cannot receive.

“I... can’t keep doing this, Scully.”

Her thumb draws comforting circles around the outside of his thigh, and he focuses on it. Imagines leaving his body, following the point of her thumb straight through to her soul, somehow finding a way to tell her without using words.

“You mean putting me at risk.”

He just looks at her, sighs.

“I’ve told you I need to work. I chose to enter the FBI, to take a field position. Not to live my life safely as a doctor or a teacher. To be by your side finding the truth.” She moves her hand to cover his own, which had moved to pick at her couch, worrying the material until it frays. Does he ruin everything he touches?

“But--”

“No, Mulder,” she interrupts. “When I was in that jail, they wouldn’t give me any information. I had to go searching for it.”

“Scully, I don’t think--”

“Let me finish.”

As much as he doesn’t want her to give him any more fuel for his nightmares, he remains silent.

“I was in the incinerator. I’d opened up a body bag, was looking at one of the victims, at the pustules that covered their skin.”

Mulder winces at the memory, the pulsating greenish welts threatening to burst at any second. Right on the boy. Instead, a bullet and brain matter. Nightmares and therapy for the kid for the rest of his life.

“Doctor Osborne found me there, tried to warn me away, but it was too late. The boil evacuated. All over him, and, I thought, all over myself.” Scully pauses and looks away with a tight frown, her shoulders drooping, speaking her next words reluctantly. “I understand your guilt, Mulder. A little. He died because of me.”

Mulder shakes his head. “No, Scully… he was there by choice--”

She leans closer, presses her other hand firmly to his lips, keeping him silent. “And it’s my choice.”

Something shifts. The horror of the case fades abruptly, the heat of her body next to his comes into sharp focus, pressed near in her need to comfort. He can smell her soap, the lotion she uses on her hands. Her hair is lit from behind, shines like a halo. She’s so beautiful.

So he takes her thumb in his mouth, sees her eyes dilate and shift to watch his lips as he suckles. But she doesn’t move away.

One of his hands moves up her arm to cup her face, angling it upwards. He releases her thumb with an audible pop and she slides it over his plush lower lip, taking her own between her teeth.

“Is this okay?” Mulder leans towards her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.

“Yeah,” Scully sighs.

“You sure?”

“My choice.” She grins and closes the distance between them.

Mulder didn’t think things through when he took her thumb in his mouth, but the touch of her soft lips to his dashed away any thoughts of leaving her here with only a few sweet, nearly-friendly kisses. Something sparked, instantly, as their lips connected, and neither of them would be able to pretend this was simply an inappropriate but friendly moment between colleagues.

Did she crawl into his lap, or did he pull her on top of him? Like everything between them, he thought it was a bit of both. Her tongue in his, swiping across the roof of his mouth, the cage of his teeth. She tastes like flowers, salt, and something else that he knows is just her. Time has no meaning, and when she pulls away and rests her forehead on his, they’re both gasping for breath. He’s bereft, despite her closeness; diminished, despite his need to breathe.

Needing to keep connected, he finds the space just below her ear and kisses a hot trail down to her collarbone. A hum from deep within her chest accompanies his caress. He nuzzles her skin with his cheek, finds the layers of clothing hiding her from him suddenly offensive.

Thick fuzzy terrycloth gives way to the slick smoothness of her pajamas. She shrugs her shoulders and it falls to the floor in a heap, her hot mouth connecting with his once more.

As his hands glide up her ribcage, over the silky material, all he can think about is consuming her. Holding her close and disappearing into her soft skin. He winds his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, wonders at the feel of her small body against him. His thoughts zip from place to place: where he wants to kiss her next, memorizing the smell and feel of her, suppressing his own desires in an attempt to figure out what she likes, what she wants.

He reaches for the hem of her top, but she pulls away, stands, and holds her hand out to him. She’s smiling at him, trembling as she holds it there. Looking at her delicate fingers, he's worried that if he left the couch, he’d be just as likely to run out the door as he would to follow her. Her expression changes as she waits for him, confidence and desire giving way to uncertainty and shyness, something he’s never seen grace her features until now.

He takes her hand, lets her lead. He trusts her, more than himself.

They stand at the end of her bed, hands clasped together. He’s nervous, all of a sudden. The electricity between them fades, fills with awkwardness.

Releasing his hand, she starts unbuttoning her top, but he sees her hands shaking and knows it’s not just him. Covering her hand with her own, he places his finger at her chin and lifts her head to look at him. The light from the doorway brightens her face. Her eyes are deep indigo, and a flush brightens her cheeks. Her chest rises rapidly as they look at each other, the sound of their breathing and the ticking of the clock on her bedside table breaking the silence. As each tick and each puff of breath beats against his ears, he feels the moment slipping away.

It’s Scully who breaks the standoff. She grasps the collar of his shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. The tension between them dissipates, the passion reigniting. All of the doubt disappears at the touch of her lips against his. Her hands wind through his hair, tug not-so-gently. He resumes the task of unbuttoning her shirt, encouraging her efforts with a soft groan.

“Please, Scully,” he says, mouthing her name against her lips. Please love me. Please touch me. Please don’t stop. Please let this really be happening.

His fingers release the last button, push aside the material, graze along the smooth skin of her back. As they divest themselves of the rest of their clothing, Scully nips at his bottom lip, drawing blood in her fervor. Pulling away quickly, she raises a finger to his mouth, caresses the spot where she injured him.

“Sorry,” she says, and he sees the uncertainty start to creep back.

He shakes his head in amazement that she considers him and chuckles softly. “Don’t be.”

Scully stares at him, her eyes darkening, and a smile perking up the corners of her mouth. “You liked that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Grabbing her shoulders, he brings her close, kissing her roughly and guiding them both onto the bed. She’s underneath him, surrounded by him. Light against dark, hard against soft.

The spark in her eyes and the playful smile both betray her enjoyment of his attempt to wrest control away from her. She doesn't give in, though, fights back just as hard, pushes him away and pulls him back. Like the tides, his Scully, the inevitable surge against time and distance.

His.

When he grinds his erection against her leg, she whimpers - whimpers. His thoughts wander to places he usually avoids: how sexy she is, whether wielding her gun or her scalpel or her skeptical gaze. And now, nothing but her luminous skin, piercing eyes, and plush lips. As his hands wrap around her waist, he encompasses all of her with the width of his hand. Her presence makes everyone else seem so insignificant, it's easy to forget that she's so fucking tiny.

Nipping and grasping turns into soft caresses, his touch feathering her ribcage, dusting along the small curve of her abdomen, slipping down to slick against her wet slit.

“Oh… yes,” Scully whispers into his ear. Her nibbles turn into licks, as if they know they want this to last, that it might not be forever. That they could make time stand still in her bed, just for tonight.

He moves downward, swirls his tongue around one hardened nipple than the other. Pausing there, finding himself stuck. Her hand brushes through his hair as he nips and teases her hardened peaks. Glancing upwards, wanting to see her, needing to know if this is right, he sees her head thrown back, her other hand tangled in her own hair, eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth is open and relaxed, uttering soft moans and unintelligible words, and then it hits him.

“Muuh...lderrr…”

The way she says his name, how it rolls off her tongue. He'd thought he'd heard it said with every possible inflection, but this is his new favorite. The cadence of the sigh-like "Mu", the extended "r". It sends a shiver down his spine, vibrating along his limbs, through the tips of his fingers and toes. He breathes against her, closes his eyes, and takes a moment to recover.

Moving upwards, he caresses the side of her face and waits for her to look at him. Her eyes open, and she blinks a few times to focus.

“Why’d you stop?”

He chuckles at her protest, at the breathy whine that peeks through. Kissing her mouth a few times, he looks at her. Watches her expression change from mildly frustrated to tender. The fan of her hair against her pillow beckons him, and he threads his fingers through the strands, combing them out neatly, giving her a halo.

Scully’s hands wander, tracing down his neck, along his shoulder blades and around to play with the hair on his chest. Dancing her thumbs across his nipples, he jerks backward, a jolt of electricity moving through him at her touch. Her grin widens and she tweaks them in her fingers, pushes him back and over, moves downwards and swipes her tongue around the sensitive flesh.

She glides her tongue along his chest, dips into his navel, lower, lower. Traveling across his skin, leaving a soothing wet trail and an aching anticipation as she moves downwards.

Gentle hands trace the veins of his cock, graze the head, sweep the drop of liquid from its tip. She’s looking at him as she tests the weight of his balls in a hand, as the other takes his cock and strokes up and down a few times. He’s impossibly hard, knows that if she continues this will end much sooner than he’d like.

He scoots away from her, evading her deft hands, and pins her underneath him. The movement is more forceful than he intended, but her mischievous smile silences his apology.

When his breathing steadies, he kisses away her pout. He drags his nose along her cheekbone and breathes in the scent of her hair. Presses gentle kisses along her neck, feeling the pulse of her jugular with his tongue. The life of her, so intertwined with his own, the steady beat keeping him afloat.

As his touch travels down her body, he feels her tense, relax, whispers encouraging him on his journey. The musky scent of her arousal, growing stronger as he dips downwards, tastes her for the first time.

She writhes as he slicks his tongue upwards along her folds, his nose bumping her clit just briefly. The hair on her mound tickles his cheek, and he loves all of her. Kissing, sucking, nibbling with his lips. He memorizes her, drowns himself in her smell, her taste, the vision of her in front of him, her voice anchoring him to the present. Resists the urge to thrust against the edge of the bed, to make this about her, to let this last.

Trembling against him, her inner walls contracting around his fingers, he steadies her with his arms, avoids being crushed by her thighs. As she relaxes, he rests his head against her and dreams of always being surrounded by her - her liquid warmth on his chin, her scent enveloping him, the salty indescribable taste of her on his tongue.

He pulls away reluctantly, searches through the pile of clothes they discarded in their haste earlier. In his pocket, he finds his wallet, in it a condom, thankfully not expired.

Climbing up next to her, he pulls her next to him and brushes a soothing kiss against the flushed skin of her shoulder. He attempts to open the package but his palms are slick from sweat and Scully, and as a bonus, he’s shaking like a nervous teenager. Feeling foolish and inadequate, he’s about to throw the damn thing across the room when her small hands encompass his and she takes the square of foil from his grasp. His emotions settle at her gentle touch, and he leans down and kisses her firmly, gratefully. As her tongue slides into his mouth and tastes him thoroughly, he wonders: does she like the taste of herself on him?

He lays down next to her as she takes over, resting his hand on her leg when she sits up, drawing circles with his thumb, remembering what started all of this tonight. He studies her, eyes traveling over the soft curves of her breasts, her slim waist, the jut of her hip, and softness of her thighs. Hearing the rip of the package, his eyes dart back upwards and he sees the wrapper hanging from her mouth. The shyness creeps back into her face as she holds the condom between them.

“If you’re not sure--” he starts.

Scully looks at him, raises her eyebrow, and shakes her head.

“It’s just been a while.”

Mulder nods but doesn’t say anything. For him, unfortunately, it hasn’t.

His mind flashes back to the memories of when she’d been taken. Shame wells up, threatens to overtake him. The details of the case in L.A. were left deliberately vague, but Scully wasn’t stupid, she could read between the lines. She knew the risks he took, what he’d done. He was a piece of shit and Scully was…Scully was--

Her hand cups his face, and he returns to her.

“No, Mulder.”

The shyness is gone, replaced by familiar certainty, his steadfast partner holding him up, rescuing him from himself. When she gets him to smile, she withdraws. She places the condom on him and is straddling him in two quick movements, bottom lip between her teeth, eyes sparkling in anticipation. Bringing him back, moving things forward. She’s efficient, his Scully.

His.

Delicate hands dance along his shoulders and press into his chest before she locks her eyes with his and adjusts himself at her entrance.

He watches as she takes him in. Her brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like their lovemaking is a mystery that needs solving. Maybe it is? She inches down on his cock, agonizingly slowly, adjusting to his size before she finally surrounds him.

When she opens her eyes, looks at him, his breath catches. It’s really her.

He breathes out, feels the poison that consumes him, drives him, slip away into the darkness of her apartment. Breathing in and watching her move above him, his heart swells. He feels her everywhere, deep inside his marrow, every neuron in his brain - hers, hers. A beautiful tangle, something he hopes never unknots.

He sees her, really sees her. Her outer shell, her private warmth. All of it. But more importantly, looking into her eyes, he believes she sees him too. Even the ugliness that he tries to hide. But instead of disappointment and fear she caresses his face, loves him harder. For the first time, he believes he’s worthy, not only of her but of this.

“You feel that, Scully?” His voice breaks the silence, raspy and breathless.

She smiles briefly, grinds her hips around him, flicks her thumbs around his nipples. “Oh, yeah.”

“No,” he says, as he stills her movements with a hand on her hip. He needs to know. Is this as monumental for her as it is for him? Is all of this one-sided?

He places his hand over her sweat-slicked skin, where he feels her heart beating. He focuses on a smattering of freckles near his thumb, imagines he can see the universe. Raising his eyes to her face, he can't find adequate words to express the emotions swirling inside of him.

“This.”

She looks at him. He can feel her brain calculating all the possible meanings of his words. He hopes his eyes convey what he can’t speak.

A small nod, almost imperceptible if he hadn’t been looking for a sign. Leaning forward, she presses her lips against his. Tears fall down the side of his face as he squeezes his eyes shut.  He wraps his hand through her hair and kisses her back thoroughly, until he’s sure the tear tracks have blended into the sweat at his temples.

She starts moving again, rocking against him with soft thrusts, keeping her forehead pressed firmly against his own.

His hands wander up her back, counting her vertebrae. His teeth clasp at the junction of her neck and shoulder. He’ll have to ask her if there’s a name for it.

Slow movements shift quickly into erratic desperation. She’s tensely coiled, shoulders bunched as she grasps his chest, embeds her nails into the skin of his shoulders, marking him. Exhaustion causes her to falter, hands trembling and breath catching in her throat as he flicks his finger over her nipples, strains upwards to claim her rosy peaks with his mouth.

His Scully. His.

He takes control, wrapping his hands around her hips, marveling again at how small she is, yet how well they fit together. She’s so warm, so tight, and he’s glad for the barrier of the condom, it keeps him from falling towards the edge too quickly. What she would feel like without it, he can’t even imagine.

She’s so close, moans lengthening, deepening, a thread connecting him to this reality. The flush of her chest deepens, spreads, the pitch of her voice rises, and she stiffens as her inner walls pulse around him.

He catches her when she falls, kisses her temple. Moves her underneath him once more and waits. Watches. So beautiful. Her heavy lids lift, swollen lips reach for his, and they kiss as she returns to herself.

Her hand wraps around his neck, and she whispers in his ear. “I almost feel embarrassed.”

“For what?” Mulder pulls away to look at her.

“I feel… greedy,” she says. “This isn’t just about me, you know.”

“Believe me, Scully, I’m enjoying myself.”

She grins broadly, a smile he rarely sees that crinkles the edges of her eyes, places a dimple in her cheek. “Yeah?”

��Oh, yeah.”

“Well get moving, then,” she says impatiently.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her laugh fades as he starts thrusting, slow for only a few moments before the pleasure at the edge of his senses calls to him. Encouraging him, she grabs onto him, bites his shoulder, lifts her legs to wrap around his waist. He buries his face into her neck, breathes Scully. Her nails pierce into the skin of his back, and he imagines she wants to crawl deep inside him just as much as he wants to crawl inside of her.

It’s that thought and the sound of her gentle whisper calling his name that pushes him over the edge. He’s floating, all the darkness banished in a moment of pure, clear light. He drives into her a few more times, strains against her soft body, and somehow remembers to collapse to her side instead of crushing her beneath him.

Lying beside her, catching his breath for a moment, he keeps his hand entwined tightly in hers. He’s afraid if he lets go he’ll wake up, have to face the reality of life without having experienced this moment with her. Turning to face her, he watches her chest rise and fall, feels her pulse in the tight grasp of his hand steady. Holds on for just a few more moments.

He rises when her hand relaxes in his, thinks she’s asleep. In her bathroom, he removes the condom and disposes of it, pees and cleans himself, fetches a warm, damp cloth and brings it out to her. She’s lying in the same position he left her, legs and arms askew, skin glowing in the moonlight from the window. One of her arms covers her eyes, and if he strains, he thinks he might hear the soft sound of her snoring. Smiling, he touches the cloth to her knee so he doesn’t startle her.

“Mmmm.”

“You sleeping?”

“Mmm, not yet.” Her voice is low and rumbly, and she peeks out beneath her arm to grin at him contentedly. “That was nice.”

“Nice?!”

She chuckles, and his breath catches at the movement. The image is burned into his brain, and he vows to make her laugh at every opportunity from now on.

“Amazing, then.” Her grin has turned into a wide, toothy smile, blue eyes peering up through sleepy lids, reassuring him of the truth of her statement.

Mulder swells with pride and cleans her up. Settling down next to her, she leans up on her elbow and kisses him, dragging her teeth along his lower lip and then looks at him. She doesn’t say a word, but in the comfortable silence, he can feel her thoughts. She’s happy, and he did that. His hand rises to cup her cheek and she sinks into it, closing her eyes and sighing. The contentment that rolls off of her wraps around him like a blanket.

Turning her face, she kisses his palm and smiles shyly. “Be right back.”

She heads to the bathroom, and Mulder adjusts himself on the bed. He fidgets again, moves on his side. There’s something wrong. Is her bed too soft? He bounces, adjusts the pillows, fetches his boxers from the floor and puts them on before sinking back under the blankets. Her comforter is soft but not overly warm.

Everything’s perfect, he thinks.

Suddenly panic rises within him, the guilt from earlier almost pushing him over with its weight. What has he done?

He sees it now, a vision manifesting with excruciating clarity. Two paths laid out in front of him. The first - the comfort of her bed, the warmth of her embrace. Bubbling happiness in his chest. A bright light that blinds him. And the second - shadows and darkness, but his eyes pierce through them. Scully at his side, banishing the darkness slowly, inch by inch. He knows he can’t have both.

This could have been something good and whole and right. A respite from the horror of their difficult cases. An island where he could forget. But he knows himself, he knows what he needs to do, and things with Scully could never be just a momentary escape.

He didn’t know… didn’t know. The intensity of their time together, the feelings that welled up within him. He didn’t think he was capable of them, knew for sure that he could lose himself in her, that she would unwittingly consume him.

When she comes out of the bathroom, he’s yanking on his jeans and can’t meet her gaze.

“You’re leaving.”

He peeks over and sees her toes digging into the rug, but he doesn't speak. Staring at it, the white and blue checks blur, and her feet disappear behind a curtain of uninvited tears. He blinks fiercely, looks away.

He continues dressing, and he hears the whisper of her pulling on her pajamas, discarded on the floor in the heat of their passion. Several times he opens his mouth to speak, thoughts half-formed into inadequate words. What he wants. What he needs. But what about what she needs? The awareness, the connection they had only minutes ago fades. It’s replaced by sudden and terrible uncertainty.

Completely clothed, he turns to her. She’s lying in bed, curled on her side away from him, her hair fanned out and hiding her face.

“Scully--”

“I know.”

She knows?

“You can’t let this interfere with the work, right? That’s what you’re going to say?” She says, voice thick and flat.

“We can’t… I can’t...”

She doesn’t say anything. He watches the rise and fall of her body as she breathes, and it steadies him.

“That was…a lot,” Mulder says, as he perches on the edge of the bed, ready to take flight at any moment. Being so near and yet knowing those last few inches, pressed against her side, are an impossible distance.

She turns to face him, face stoic, cheeks dry. It doesn’t comfort him.

“I wondered how long it would take,” Scully looks at him, hiding away. That connection they had, so intense and unexpected, scurrying away in the shadows of her bedroom.

“I could lose myself in this…and I just can’t,” he says.

“I know.” She bites her swollen lips, and his gaze can’t help but linger on them. He knows what she tastes like. How can he make himself forget?

Dread rises in his chest as they look at each other. Strangers with a tenuous connection. No longer partners from before, or lovers as of tonight, but something in-between. Would it be like this forever, or could they return to the safety of their partnership?

“Can we go back? To the way it was?” Mulder can’t believe he could be so lucky to have had this moment with Scully, that he could discard her so easily, and that she’d still be willing to stay.

At her silence, he looks up at her, the fear crawling in his belly and making him feel sick. Her hair is wild, the bed sheets tangled beneath her, but her eyes pierce into his with steely blue determination, and her mouth is set in a stubborn line. She’s sitting up ramrod straight, her back rigid, her shoulders set.

“I don't have a choice, Mulder.”

The corner of her mouth turns up in a small smile, and he lets out his breath in a ragged sigh. This quest is hers just as much as it is his, now. He knows he can’t do it without her, at least not for very long. Hates himself for indulging in this moment tonight, that he could have lost it all because of his impulsiveness.

He smiles at her sadly and wrenches his gaze away, pushes himself off of her bed, and flees from her apartment before he can change his mind. The key twists in her lock with finality, his head a mess of conflicted emotions, the walk to his car a blur.

Taking a moment in his car, head bowed, he polishes his memories of tonight. Turns it into a small gem, buries it under the weight of his obligations. Tells himself he regrets giving in, regrets the weakness that led him here tonight. Knows that deep down, his weakness is not being strong enough to stay.

[inyourwildestdreamslove]

Fearless: Chapter 6

You deal in fear…

So who else to help Klaus master his powers? Who is quite determined to set you up with his brother…

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“No one ever does darling…”

Diego x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 6: Love, Gimme Love

The next morning you are woken up by Cleo bumping her head against yours. You open your eyes to see a pair of vibrant yellow eyes gazing down at you. She is laying on your chest and seems intent on you getting up. 

“Alright...I’m up…”

Grabbing a long cardigan you put it on and wrap it around yourself to protect you against the morning chill. You cautiously step around a sleeping Diego who is sprawled out on the makeshift bed in your room. He insisted on putting himself between you and the door. The silence of the house is almost deafening as you make your way into the kitchen. Standing in your kitchen is the man from the night before. 

“Who are you?” you ask calmly. 

He jumps before he turns around, “Uhh… well…”

You raise an eyebrow at the man before. 

“A friend of Klaus?” 

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest as you regard him harshly. 

“Look… we uh… knew each other a while ago and I just wanted…” he says awkwardly scratching his head. 

“To use him?” 

You ask bluntly.

“Huh? Who are you?” he asks defensively as if questioning his clearly questionable motives is simply unheard of.

“Look, Klaus is my friend and we’ve worked hard on getting and keeping him sober. What happened last night?” Your question is like a bullet as you fire it at him.

“You sure you’re just his friend? You sound like a jealous girlfriend,” he snaps back.

“What Klaus does with his time romantically is none of my business, I merely want to know why months of progress was thrown to the wind last night.”

“Look, he’s a grown man, it’s not my fault he doesn’t take rejection well,” he snaps. 

“Get out of my house,” you say monotonously. 

“What?”

“You heard her,” Deigo’s annoyed voice comes from the doorway. 

The mystery man whips around to see Diego standing in the doorway. 

“Who are you?!” he exclaims in shock.

“Klaus’ brother, who are you?”

“Uhhh… Listen man…”

“No, you listen man,” Diego as he takes a menacing step towards him, “leave Klaus alone. He was doing just fine until you came along and messed him up again. We’re trying to help him. If you don’t have his best intention in mind, you don’t need to be near him, understand?”

The guy nods in fear as he regards Diego. 

“Why did he listen to you and not me?” you whine catching Diego’s attention, “Is it the macho guy thing?”

Diego hides a smile as he regards you, “It's because you’re so cute.”

You pout and cross your arms which only seems to make Diego’s point.

Diego turns back to the mysterious man standing in your kitchen and glares at him, “What are you still doing here? She told you to leave!”

He jumps in surprise before he grabs his pants from the living room floor and scrambles to leave. The sound of your front door slamming closed behind him indicates that you and Diego fulfilled your mission to get rid of him. 

“What do you think happened?” Diego asks.

“I think he rejected Klaus,” you say softly.

You regard your kitchen before making your way into the living room and frowning at the mess that the two men made last night. The scent of stale cigarettes lingers in the air mixed with the faintest scent of weed. The pungent scent of beer drifts up from your carpet and you notice where it looks like one or two was knocked to the ground. You’re thankful that you didn’t find any evidence of anything else. Relatively speaking this relapse seems to be minor even if it’s unwelcome. 

It’s a few hours of cleaning before Klaus wakes up and walks out of his bedroom. He looks ashamed as he makes his way into the now clean living space avoiding your eyes. 

“I’m sorry…” he croaks out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

You regard him with a frown as you turn your attention away from the book you're reading to the man standing in the doorway. 

“I just don’t get it…” you say softly, “you were doing so well…”

“I just…”

Diego comes out of the kitchen two cups of coffee in his hands as he makes his way over to you. He hands you one before he settles himself back onto the couch beside you, his arm draping itself over the back of the couch lingering in the space behind you.

Klaus looks surprised to see Diego there, “Diego?”

“He walked me home last night after the match. You opened the door and you were obviously drunk and there was a man passed out on my couch. Diego didn’t feel right leaving me alone with him.”

Klaus winces as you tell him about the events of last night, “He was…”

He stops and takes a shaky breath, “We used to…” he tries again.

“It’s okay…” you murmur as you pat the place on the couch next to you. Klaus plops down in the space next to you and leans into you. His head comes to rest on your shoulder as he heaves a sigh and you notice tears threatening to fall once again. 

“I thought he liked me…” he says with a sigh, “No one has really given me the time of day sober… except for Dave… maybe ever… Kyle and I’ve been talking lately. We used to run in the same circle a few years ago, but he really just wanted a hit of something, he didn’t want me...”

Klaus leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees running his hands up and down his face. 

“Klaus, he’s a jerk and you deserve someone so much better than him,” you say softly. 

“I just want…someone to love me...”

“Hey…” you say softly, “I love you, maybe not in the way you’re talking about, but I do love you. And I want what’s best for you. I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t try to find someone if you’re lonely, but maybe stay away from people from your past. If you need companionship we can look into hobbies for you okay?”

“You aren’t mad? You aren’t kicking me out?” he asks looking at you in surprise, “You still want to help me?”

“Klaus… you’re trying so hard. I’m not going to say I’m not disappointed, but you aren’t perfect. You’ve spent years of your life being high on something to escape feeling anything real, it’s ridiculous of me to expect you not to slip up. Especially, when the only way you know how to cope with anything is with drugs and alcohol. I’m just relieved that it wasn’t something worse.”

Klaus just blinks at you before he wraps himself around you. You feel his tears wet the shoulder of your tee shirt as you hold him against you. You slowly rock him back and forth as you allow him to cry. 

Pulling away Klaus wipes his eyes before he regards the two of you, “So Diego walked you home huh?”

“Oh for the love of…” Diego trails off his hand coming up to run up and down his face in exasperation. 

You blush as you look away from Klaus and his dancing eyebrows. 

“Nothing happened…” you mutter as you grumble under your breath, “the universe made sure of that…”

Klaus breaks out into a grin having heard your muttering, “So you DO like Diego! I knew it! Diego! When you take her to bed make sure that you take very good care of my flower okay? She’s been very stressed lately! She deserves-”

“Klaus!” you yelp in embarrassment before you launch yourself at your friend, your hand going over his mouth to stop the words from leaving him. 

“W-what?! W-why a-are you?” Diego stutters in embarrassment.

Klaus just cackles as he grabs your wrists to keep your hands from his mouth, “She deserves-”

“Klaus if you finish that sentence I am not cooking for you for a month!” you threaten. 

He looks up at you in wide-eyed horror, “A month!?”

“A month!” you exclaim, still fighting with him. He may be scrawny, but he’s a lean and strong scrawny. 

He gasps dramatically before muttering a ‘fine,’ under his breath. You regard him with narrowed eyes suspiciously for a few more moments before you are satisfied with his silence. The air now feels heavy as both you and Diego shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“So did he teach you how to throw knives? That’s his oldest-”

“Klaus!” Diego roars as he launches himself at his brother, getting caught in the crossfire and ending up in a dog pile between the two brothers and yelping as someone’s elbow is in your side.

“Guys!” you yell as Diego fights to get to the cackling Klaus. 

“Get off!” you yelp pushing the two away from you, Klaus just clings to you as he yells for you to save him from Diego. 

“I need a- something…” you say your head in your hand after you have untangled yourself from the fight and the two brothers have calmed down. Ok so you banished them to separate sides of the couch but that is beside the point.  

“You should take a relaxing bath! That always helps me! I’m sure that Diego would love to join-”

“Klaus!” you both yell in unison as he snickers to himself, obviously proud of his ability to make you both uncomfortable. 

“What?! That is not going too far! They both need to get laid! It would-”

“Klaus!” you both yell again interrupting his one-sided conversation with Ben. 

He just laughs and you shake your head attempting to ignore your best friend and your crush respectively. 

“I’m going to make lunch,” you grumble as you get up. 

“I’ll help,” says Diego as he gets up off of the couch to follow you.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” yells Klaus.

“There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do,” snips Diego.

“Exactly.”

You roll your eyes as you head into the kitchen with Diego hot on your heels. You head towards the refrigerator to see what you have to eat. 

“You know…” You glance over your shoulder at Diego as he stands in the middle of the kitchen. He’s fidgeting and keeps crossing and uncrossing his arms and ruffling his hair. 

“Yeah…?” you trail off waiting for him to continue. 

“Can I take you out? O-on a-a-a r-real date?” 

You blink at him for a moment confused about his sudden nerves, “Of course you can.”

He smiles in relief before he nods, “Good.”

You giggle at him as you pull some pasta salad off of the shelf and put it on the counter. 

“What would make you think I wouldn’t want to go out with you after last night?” you ask with a sly smile. 

“Well… I didn’t know if you were… you know… just being nice…”

“Letting you almost kiss me isn’t me being nice Diego, it’s me wanting you to kiss me,” you murmur with your hands on your hips. 

“Oh? You want me to kiss you?” he asks with a cocky smirk as he takes a step towards you. 

“I thought I made that abundantly clear last night?” you ask as you turn back towards him. 

His hands find their way to your waist as he gently pulls you towards him. He leans his head down before he brushes his nose against yours. A soft smile blooms onto your face and he chuckles as you give him an Eskimo kiss. With a surge of confidence, Diego leans down and captures your lips in a chaste kiss. 

“If you two are going to go at it like rabbits… I would like to be informed so I can vacate the premises,” Klaus interrupts.

You and Diego jump away from one another like teenagers at high school prom and blush. 

“Klaus!” Diego growls as he regards his brother.

“They do make a cute couple…” Klaus says as he turns to the empty space next to him, where no doubt Ben was. 

Diego sends Klaus a warning look as Klaus just sends you a wink with a smirk on his face. 

“Oh leave it, Diego… He’s never going to let us live this down…” you grumble as you push Klaus out of the kitchen, “You’ve been rooting for this, the least you can do is give us a moment!”

“Okay okay! So pushy now that you have a mans to make you happy!” he gasps dramatically, “Do you love him more than me now! Are you going to ignore me in favor of Diego?! What have I done?”

Klaus’ eyes widened in dramatized horror showing he was just joking. 

“Leave Klaus,” you grumble, “I keep getting interrupted and all I want is a kiss, okay? So go!”

“So demanding! Kitty cat aren’t you? Be good to her, Deigo!”

You and Diego both roll your eyes at Klaus as he saunters out of the kitchen. You huff in annoyance as you feel a pair of arms around your waist pulling you into a strong chest. Diego buries his face in your neck and you feel a few chaste kisses as his voice becomes a low grumble. 

“Forget him,” he says nuzzling you, “Let’s enjoy this…” Diego trails off as he presses languid kisses to your neck. You blink up at him as you repress a shiver and drape your hands on his entangling your fingers. He pauses for a second before he turns you in his grip and pulls your body towards  him. You squeak in surprised excitement as your hands rest on his strong chest before you slide them up his chest to dangle around his neck. Diego bows his head and pulls you into a deep fiery kiss that leaves you weak in the knees. You stumble back against the counter as he presses into you, an almost desperate groan leaves his lips as he presses you back into the hard surface. You gasp as you feel his hands slide from your hips to your ass and squeeze your supple curves. He picks you up and sets you onto the counter settling himself in between your thighs and pressing into you. You can feel his bulge as he presses himself almost desperately into you. You let out a soft moan as you press back almost desperate for his touch.

“And another thing!” Klaus says coming back around the corner, mischief in his voice. 

“GET OUT!” you both yell each grabbing the closest thing to you, which just happens to be a dish cloth and the sponge you use to wash the dishes and throw it at him.

“Hey! Fine! Jeeze!” he exclaims with a cackle he walks away effectively dodging the projectiles 

You heave a sigh as you bury your face against his neck and he hugs you to him. 

“That was intense…” you say softly. 

“Too intense?” he asks hesitantly.

“No… Just intense…” you whisper pulling back to look into his eyes. He’s trying to catch his breath too. Almost shly you bump your nose against his and capture his lips again. 

“We’re going to have to find a… distraction… for Klaus,” Diego breathes as he breaks the kiss. His voice still a little breathy from the earlier passion.

You just nod absently as you gently push him away suddenly feeling too hot, “Yes… we definitely are…” 

With a sigh you turn back to the task at hand, or better yet your distraction from Diego’s lips, and finish preparing lunch. 

When you both exit the kitchen Klaus is sitting innocently on the couch as you hand him a sandwich with the side of pasta salad you made yesterday. 

“Finished so soon? At this rate I’ll never be an unc-” Klaus begins only for Diego to smack the sandwich the of the way into his mouth causing Klaus to sputter indignantly. 

“Careful Klaus… Or you might find yourself kicked out afterall,” you say with a smirk at your friend. 

“You wouldn’t?!” he gasps scandalized. 

“Try me… Interrupt again and see what happens…”

Klaus snaps his mouth shut in a pout as he regards his sandwich before murmuring, “You two are no fun…”  

“Oh, we’re plenty of fun… We just keep getting interrupted….” grumbles Diego. 

“What happened last night?” Klaus asks innocently.

“Some assholes…” you mutter in derision as you take a violent bite of your sandwich remembering the events of the night before. 

“Did you…?”

“Yes…”

“Are you okay?” Klaus asks in concern. 

“I’m fine, Klaus,” you murmur with a smile, “Things just got a little dangerous last night is all…”

“Well, I'm glad Diego was with you at least,” Klaus says decisively, “He’s always good in those situations.”

Diego looks surprised as he regards his brother, “Thanks, man…”

“I mean (Y/N) is a force to reckon with so it wasn’t like she needed help, but it’s always good to know someone is there,” Klaus continues, completely destroying the moment. 

“Thanks, man…” Diego reiterates, this time with a scowl. 

You chuckle as you watch the interaction as you settle back against your sofa, “So who is up for a movie?” 

“Isn’t your new one out?!” Klaus exclaims, “the one you worked one a few months ago?!”

“It is! Do you want to watch it?” You answer.

A book on the far wall falls to the ground indicating that Ben is there and he does.

“I do! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen any of your work,” Diego says suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing a film you’ve worked on. 

“Cool! Let’s put it on!” you say in excitement. 

You quickly put the movie on and relax against Diego who had instantly pulled you against him. Klaus being Klaus laid down so his head is resting in your lap and the sudden chill in the corner of the couch, and the way that Klaus kicks at the otherwise empty spot indicates Ben is resting there.  

You feel a sense of contentment as you spend a lazy day with the people you have come to care for more than anyone.

Notes: Super excited for the renewed interest in this story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please drop some love and leave a comment or send a message! It makes my day!

[juliandev0rak]

Ghost

There’s a ghost in Beatrice’s attic and she needs help to exorcise it. She finds, however, that some of the things that haunt her aren’t so easy to get rid of.

characters: Ella Sagen (of @leechobsessed), Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens), Beatrice Viano / beaellaleila

also Julian Devorak (he’s here too)

words: 3530

warnings: a bit of angst 

Squeak

Beatrice is startled from her sleep, her eyes opening to inspect the dark room around her. She wordlessly casts a light spell to dispel the darkness and tries to calm her racing heart. As she sits in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin she hears it again, the sound that she’d thought was simply part of a dream. 

It sounds like something is scraping against the floorboards of the attic above her. It’s an awful, grating noise, like nails on a chalkboard. The next time she hears the noise it’s more of a squeak than a scrape. She stifles a nervous squeak of her own and pulls the covers over her head, feeling a bit silly for how childish she’s acting. 

On any other night she might have been able to ignore it, but Beatrice has been doing a lot of reading about the paranormal lately. 

She wouldn’t normally consider herself superstitious, but she’s come to the conclusion that if magic exists- ghosts must exist too. And due to the volume of books she’s been reading on the subject, she draws the hypothesis that the mysterious sound might be caused by something not quite of this world. 

As much as she’d like to ignore the problem and hope it goes away, a hypothesis requires testing. Beatrice tells herself she’s being ridiculous, it's probably the wind making a strange noise, or perhaps the building settling, but as the scraping squeak happens again she decides it’s time to take action. She is a rather proficient magician after all, she should be able to handle this even if it is a ghost. 

She’s careful to avoid the creaking floorboard in the doorway as she creeps out of bed and in to the hallway. There’s a narrow stairwell that leads to the attic, but she hardly has cause to go up there anymore. The ceiling is so low she has to crouch, everything is covered in a layer of dust, and it’s full of memories she’d really rather forget. Nevertheless, she creeps up the stairs, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. 

She finds the door to the attic slightly ajar. 

Beatrice stops. There’s no way someone could have broken in, she’s certain she would’ve heard more from that- breaking glass or voices. And besides, all of the merchandise is in the shop below rather than her apartment. As a precaution Beatrice checks to see if she can feel anyone’s aura in the room.

She stands in the doorway and peers carefully into the darkness, casting out her senses. Nothing. And then- the noise again. It’s even louder now that she’s up close, and she feels a flash of distress from the corner of the room.

Something in the room is very upset. Beatrice can’t tell if they’re angry or scared and she doesn’t really want to find out anymore.

“Nope!” Beatrice says out loud, and then she runs down the stairs as if her life depends on it. 

She bangs her head on the ceiling on her way down and her hand goes up to cradle her bruised forehead. Whatever’s in that room, she doesn’t want to face it alone. She watches the stairs with wide eyes as her logical mind scrambles to find a course of action.

There had been a spell to contain and dispel spirits in one of the books she’s been reading, it’s probably her best bet. She frantically pages through the book to find the correct section, eyes skimming over the instructions. A chalk sigil, a spoken incantation, it seems simple enough. In her haste she nearly misses the note at the bottom of the page, 

“This spell is best performed by three magicians standing on each of the three points of the sigil. The power of three must be invoked for complete spirit exorcism.” 

Three. She needs help, and luckily Beatrice knows just where to find two other magicians, though they might be less than pleased to see her at this hour. Beatrice pulls on her cloak and shoots one last apprehensive look to the attic stairs before heading out of her apartment. 

Leila isn’t too far away, she only has a few blocks to walk in the comfortingly well-lit streets. Beatrice tries not to run, but as the tea shop comes into view she finds herself quite out of breath. She knocks on the door, wincing as the sound echoes off of the cobblestones of the empty street.

A few moments pass and she considers knocking again when the door finally opens a crack and a very tired looking Julian appears.

“Oh, good evening Julian! My apologies for the late hour, can you get Leila, please? It’s a bit of an emergency.” Beatrice smiles politely, hoping neither of them will be annoyed with her for waking them up.

Julian looks concerned and takes an immediate step towards her, “Are you alright Beatrice? Do you need medical assistance?” 

“No, thank you, I’m quite alright. I need magical assistance actually,” Beatrice says, though her head does throb a little where she hit it on the ceiling. 

“Ah yes, well I’m afraid I can’t help with magic. I’ll go get the woman who can.” Julian opens the door for her to enter and heads up to find Leila. He comes back a few moments later with Leila who pulls her dressing gown closed with the tired motions of someone who might be sleepwalking.

Leila rubs at her eyes as she takes in Beatrice standing in the doorway, “Julian said it was an emergency? Are you alright?”

“I think there’s a ghost in my attic!” 

“A ghost? Are you sure?” Leila’s tone is concerned, and perhaps even curious rather than annoyed like Beatrice had feared.

Beatrice nods her head as she explains, “Yes! I felt something up there, and I heard an awful noise. There seems to be a spirit of some kind who needs to be put to rest, but I need your help to banish it. The spell I read about works best with three.”

“Three?” Leila frowns in confusion, “Oh, you want to go get Ella?”

Beatrice nods again, “Yes, I think it’ll be safer with the three of us.”   

“If you need medical backup you know where to find me!” Julian says as the women head to the door. Leila just laughs as she swaps her dressing gown for her usual shawl. She kisses Julian’s cheek in goodbye and then they’re off.

Leila links her arm through Beatrice’s as they walk across town to find Ella. When Ella answers the door she looks a little confused, and very tired, but she’s not annoyed either. 

“What are you two up to this late?” Ella opens the door to let them in.

Leila collapses on Ella’s couch in a tired heap. “Beatrice has a ghost.” 

“Well technically, my attic has a ghost. I’m not possessed.” Beatrice moves Leila’s legs so she can sit down on the couch and Leila promptly lays them across her lap.

“I’m sorry, did you say a ghost?” Ella perches on the edge of the couch next to Beatrice, who takes in the tired circles under her friend’s multicolored eyes. 

Beatrice reaches a hand out to rest on Ella’s. “Have you still been having trouble sleeping? I’m sure we could find a potion for that.” 

“Believe me, I’ve tried it all,” Ella sighs, and then she turns to look at her friends with an only slightly false smile. “But let’s focus here, you have a ghost?” 

Beatrice explains the full story to both of them, describing everything from her research into the paranormal to the distressed aura she’d felt in the dark attic. Neither girl interrupts her as she talks, and by the time she's finished both of them are looking much more awake. They seem to believe her, which is quite a relief for Beatrice.

“I think I need some tea.” Leila swings her legs off of Beatrice’s lap and heads towards the kitchen “Do you mind, Ella?” 

“You know where things are as well as I do, go ahead! I’ll have some too if you’re making a pot.” Ella replies, “Maybe something that will wake us up.” 

“I’m on it! Beatrice would you like tea?” Leila disappears into a cupboard, already reaching for three mugs.

“Yes please.” Beatrice smiles politely.

Ella gives Beatrice’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “Don’t worry, Beatrice, we’ll get rid of that ghost.” 

“Yes, so you can get back to dreaming about Lysander,” Leila laughs as she hands them each a cup of tea. Beatrice scoffs and hopes her blush is hidden in the dim lighting of the room.

“I was having a perfectly lovely dream about being on a boat actually, it was quite soothing before I awoke.” Beatrice takes a delicate sip of tea and nearly spits it out when she realizes she hasn’t added any sugar yet. She covers for the clumsy moment by reaching for the bowl of sugar Leila has placed on the table in front of her.

“Was Lysander on the boat?” Ella smiles, stirring her own tea.

“He might have been,” Beatrice says vaguely, hiding another blush as she thinks back to the dream she’d been having of staring over the vast expanse of the sea with Lysander. His arm had been around her waist, familiar and warm and pulling her closer towards him. Dreaming about Lysander always makes her sad when she wakes up, and she'd much prefer to have mundane dreams about sorting library books or whatever it is she thought about before him. 

“Well I’m sorry to break your fantasy, Beatrice, but Lysander hates boats. He gets seasick.” Leila’s face pulls into a frown, as if thinking about her brother’s discomfort. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Beatrice takes another sip of tea, trying not to get distracted by her thoughts of him. “I'll go over the plan.” 

She explains what she’d read in the book again, detailing the procedures of the banishing ritual, “We need to draw the sigil, stand on the three points, and repeat the incantation. It should be quite simple. I’d have done it myself but…” Beatrice was too afraid. 

Beatrice doesn’t like to admit how easily frightened she is. As a magician she feels she has no logical reason to be scared of anything, but she is. Some of the things she’s afraid of make sense, like loneliness or the unknown, while others are much more specific to her. There are fears she keeps hidden deep inside of her that would be far too difficult to explain, far too revealing. To share them would be like cutting herself open, and she doesn’t want to bleed.

And ever since she’d had the accident with the cursed book, she’d learned her lesson about running into magical situations without thinking first. Her fear is there to protect her, though she’d rather not have its suffocating presence in her life. She knows her friends wouldn’t judge her for any of these feelings and fears, but she keeps quiet all the same. 

She sips her tea and tries to avoid thinking about the dark attic and the ghost. She tries to ignore the thought of boxes full of things that had once belonged to her aunt, whom she misses terribly, and her mother, whom she doesn’t miss at all. The guilt of not missing someone you’re “supposed” to miss has followed her for years, just as the guilt of being the last one in her family has kept her stuck in the old magic shop.

Beatrice finds it entirely too likely that a ghost would choose her attic to take up residence, it’s already full of ghosts after all. 

She hasn’t noticed the conversation come to an end around her, but when she looks up from her mug she finds both Ella and Leila looking at her. She clears her throat and sets the mug down on the table. “Right well, let’s get going then shall we?” 

“We’ve got a ghost to catch!” Leila grins, pulling Beatrice up off of the couch by the hand. 

“Yes! This’ll be exciting, I’m curious to see this ghost for myself.” Ella pulls on a cloak and gestures towards the door. Leila and Beatrice follow close behind and Leila links her arm through Beatrice’s again as they wait for Ella to lock up.

“You look cold.” Leila remarks. She’s right, but it’s dread rather than the weather that’s making her shiver. She doesn’t quite know what they’ll find in that attic.

They talk as they walk through the empty streets, keeping the conversation light as Ella talks about one of the patients she’d seen earlier that day. But all too soon her shop comes into view and they’re at the door. When they step into the dark shop Beatrice hurriedly lights the candles in the room with a flick of her hand.

“It’s upstairs.” Beatrice murmurs, a bit afraid to raise her voice. Leila and Ella nod and follow her up the stairs to her apartment. She opens the door to let them in and, as if on cue, the scraping squeaking noise sounds from above.

Leila takes a step towards the attic stairs, “Was that the ghost?” 

“Yes, I believe so.” 

“It sounds like it’s moving furniture around, can ghosts do that?” Ella asks, joining Leila on the bottom step. 

“A few of the books I’ve read said it’s possible.” Beatrice eyes the stairs warily, and decides to light a few candles in the living area just to feel more secure. When she’s done she finds Leila has already made her way up the stairs with Ella close behind. 

She takes a deep breath and forces herself to focus, this is magic, she can do this.

“Alright, when we get inside we need to draw the sigil as quickly as possible, just in case,” Beatrice instructs. 

“Do we have everything we need?” Ella turns to smile encouragingly at Beatrice. She’s glad Ella and Leila are here, neither of them seem scared in the slightest. They’re both excited in fact, and it’s enough for her to be able to press forward.

“I’ve got a piece of chalk right here.” Beatrice reaches into her cloak pocket and holds a piece of white chalk up for them to see. “And the book too.” 

Leila goes in first, opening the narrow doorway for the others to enter behind her. They all have to crouch a bit, but poor Ella is almost bent in half and still nearly touches the ceiling. It’s a good thing they hadn’t brought Julian along, he wouldn’t have fit. 

The room is eerily silent and dark but Beatrice stops herself from reaching for one of her friend’s hands for comfort. She conjures a ball of light instead, so she can see to draw the sigil. Ella and Leila walk around the small attic as she works, looking for signs of the ghost. 

“I can definitely feel that something isn’t right in here.” Leila turns in a circle, surveying the room. 

The scraping noise comes again from the back of the room and Beatrice swears she can see a box move out of the corner of her eye. Leila squeals in surprise and moves closer to Ella.

“It’s done! Ella please stand on that point there, and Leila you join me over here.” Beatrice points to the corresponding sigil points. Her friends hurry to follow her instructions and they all join hands. “Now repeat after me.” 

They repeat the incantation together, nine times- three sets of three. Beatrice recognizes some of the words as a binding spell, one used to bind potion ingredients together or, in this case, to trap something. The girls wait for something to happen, a flash of light or another squeaking noise, but there’s no response. 

Beatrice lets go of Leila’s hand to look through the book again, but finds they’d followed all of the directions perfectly. The three friends stand looking at each other in confusion until suddenly the scraping noise starts up again. Leila raises an eyebrow and steps out of the chalk markings, crossing the room purposefully.

She steps over to the darkest corner of the attic where the noise had emanated from and picks up an overturned box on the ground. Immediately, something rushes out into the darkness. Beatrice suppresses a scream as the dark shape approaches her. 

She shuts her eyes and braces for impact, but is met instead by the sound of her friends’ laughter. 

“Beatrice look!” Ella says. 

She opens one eye and peers down towards the ground. Immediately, she’s flooded with relief when she notices the shape of a small brown rabbit at her feet.

“Bramble!” Beatrice scrambles forwards, pulling the rabbit into her arms. Her familiar looks at Beatrice in a way that manages to convey that she’s upset, but glad to have been rescued. “Did you get stuck up here?”

“She must’ve been scratching on the floor, it looks like the box overturned on top of her.” Leila picks up the box in question, “It also looks like she was trying to push past some of the furniture stacked up over here, which would explain the scraping noise.” 

“I think the distressed aura you felt was just Bramble,” Ella suggests, making another turn about the room to inspect a few of the dusty boxes.

“Yes, it did feel a bit like her. Oh, I should've known better!” Beatrice strokes Bramble's ears, checking her over for any sign of injury. 

She seems unharmed but she’s quite annoyed at having been trapped in the attic. Bramble often wanders throughout the house, but she’s never come up here before. Beatrice can’t fathom why she would have wanted to, nor can she understand how the rabbit was able to get the door open. But Bramble is no ordinary rabbit after all, she’s always been able to do peculiar things. 

“Poor bunny.” Leila reaches out to scratch Bramble under her chin.

Beatrice feels terrible, and she can’t help but fret out loud, “All of that fuss over a ghost and I never once thought to check where Bramble was. What if there actually had been a ghost and she’d been in danger!” 

Ella stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, “It’s not your fault, Beatrice. You couldn’t have known she got stuck up here, and she doesn’t seem hurt.”

“I’m so sorry I pulled you out of bed for this.” Beatrice ducks her head so her friends can’t see her embarrassed expression.

“Don’t apologize! This was fun.” Leila smiles and holds the attic door open, “But let’s get downstairs, there might not be a ghost in here but this attic is still creepy.” 

“Yes, I’m quite ready to leave this place.” Beatrice gives Leila an almost smile and follows her and Ella back to the living room. 

“I’m glad you thought to call us, you never know what could be lurking when magic is involved.” Ella takes a seat on the couch and gestures for Beatrice to sit next to her. “Better safe than sorry!’

“I’m sorry I let my nerves get the best of me.” Beatrice avoids her friends eyes, staring at Bramble instead who is contentedly falling asleep in her lap, none the worse for wear.

“It’s ok to be afraid, Beatrice. There are plenty of terrifying things in this world, and you’ve always got us to help you face them.” Leila joins them on the couch and offers Beatrice a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Thank you.” Beatrice still can’t meet her friend’s eyes, but now for entirely different reasons. She’s still not used to having people in her life who care about her this much. 

“That’s what friends are for,” Ella says, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Well, I’d better get home and let Julian know I didn’t get possessed by a ghost,” Leila jokes as she stands up from the couch.

“And if you need us again, you know where to find us!” Ella adds as she joins Leila.

“Maybe stop reading those paranormal books for a while.” Leila pulls Beatrice and Ella into a goodbye hug. Beatrice nods in agreement, she’s certainly had enough of the supernatural for a while.

As Beatrice tries to get back to sleep, her mind wanders to the attic and all of the things that are stored up there. She’s avoided going through it for years, too afraid of the hurt it might cause her. But perhaps now she’ll be able to face it, perhaps Bramble had not-so-subtly been leading her up there.

There’s nothing in the attic but her memories. And while some of them are sad, there are just as many nice memories up there as well. She deserves to remember those, and maybe she’ll be able to banish some of her guilt in the process. She could even invite Leila and Ella to help her organize it, they’ve asked about her family before and maybe now she’ll be able to talk about them. 

Talking about the past might hurt, but Beatrice is finally realizing that she doesn’t have to hurt alone.

[fairylightsandchai]

The Internship - Part 4 (Finale)

A/N: Hello, again! Just popping in again to say that I know I don’t usually post fanfic here, but I really wanted to take part in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​​‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you don’t follow me for fanfiction. :) Also, I’ll be adding tags in a reblog. 

Read Part 3 Here! 

As a side note, since writing this, I’ve made a side-blog dedicated to writing fanfic, so if you guys wanna check that out, click here! 

Pairings:  Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:  You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no?

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and this part will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.)

               Being back in your childhood bedroom was bittersweet. The same twin bed was pushed into the corner; the same pictures were on your walls. And yet so much had changed since the days when this was your home.

               You lay curled up on the small mattress, watching your window with unseeing eyes. It had snowed last night; a pure white sheen rested over everything. The only disturbance to the blanket covering your front yard were the footprints and tire tracks your mom had left behind when she’d gone to the store that morning.

               With a sigh, you rolled over onto your back, one of your hands coming to rest over your stomach. You still hadn’t told her. Hell, you were still having trouble accepting the truth yourself.

               When you’d shown up shivering on her doorstep – barefoot, covered in blood, and with no luggage to speak of – she’d bombarded you with questions. You hadn’t been able to answer anything, though. In fact, you didn’t say anything on your first night being back home. You’d just shuffled into the living room, sank down onto the sofa, and cried.

               After a night of fitful sleep, you’d told her the basics in the morning – that you’d been raped and kept as a hostage by a very powerful man. Her first reaction was anger, and she’d grabbed her coat and urged you to come with her straight to the police station.

               But then, she’d seen your eyes. You hadn’t looked in a mirror yet at that point, but she’d always been good at reading you. She could see how helpless, how hopeless, you were. And when you’d told her that he was too powerful, too well-connected, to be punished for the crimes he’d done to you, she’d believed you.

               After that, it was like both of you were grieving. She emailed your professors for you, explaining that you wouldn’t be returning to finish out your semester. She’d even hired some people to pack up some of the things from your apartment and bring them to her house; you’d told her that you didn’t feel safe going back, and she hadn’t questioned you.

               Once you got past the initial shock of what had happened, you’d been a shell of your former self. All you could do was cry or sit staring blankly at the wall, trying your best to trample down the fear, the anxiety, that at any moment Steve would come busting down your mother’s door to take you back to his basement.

               It was so bad that you couldn’t keep your food down, especially in the mornings. You’d given up on trying to eat breakfast altogether; after spending a sleepless night plagued by nightmares, you couldn’t keep anything on your stomach.

               It was only after the second week of you being there that your mom started to question you further – not about who had done this to you, but, rather, a much more disturbing topic.

               You’d been hunched over the toilet bowl early in the morning, catching your breath after another round of nausea, when you felt her comforting hand on your shoulder.

               “Sweetheart, I… I need to ask you a question,” she’d murmured. “It’s an uncomfortable question, but it needs to be addressed, alright? Did he… Did he ever use protection?”

               Your eyes had flown open, and you knew. You didn’t need a test to confirm what you already could feel in your gut, but you took one anyway, and your greatest fears had been confirmed.  The trauma, the terror, that you now lived with weren’t the only souvenirs that Steve had left you with.

               You were pregnant.

               You still hadn’t told your mom, even though it had been a week since you found out. You’d always found a way to dodge the question, thinking stupidly that, if you just ignored it, if you refused to acknowledge the life growing inside of you, then it would go away. It hadn’t, though, nor would it ever, and you were faced with a decision to make.

               Were you going to keep it?

               With a sigh, you got out of bed, taking the first shower you’d had in days. You tried to keep your mind off of everything, to banish all thought so you could have a few minutes of peace, but everything reminded you of him. It was his fingers washing your hair, his hand scrubbing your skin clean.

               “See how much better it is when you just let me take care of you?”

               You sobbed, sinking to your knees as his voice echoed in your ear. How long would it take for you to be free? To be truly free of him?

               By the time you got out of the shower, it was almost noon. After pulling on some leggings, an oversized sweater, and some thick wool socks, you made your way into the kitchen, deciding that you would start off with some coffee and, if you could keep that down, some toast.

               You froze where you stood, however, when you heard the bell ring.

               Feeling your heartbeat quicken, you creeped to the door, trying to keep your footfalls silent. Ducking your head, you peaked out of the peephole.

               A policeman was standing on your porch, his hands shoved into the pockets of a thick winter coat. You let out a sigh, feeling relieved but also confused at his presence. You opened the door just a crack, poking your head out from behind it and trying your best to smile at the man.

               “Hello,” you greeted him timidly. “What can I do for you, officer?”

               He looked up and gave you a warm, close-lipped smile, and you were both struck by how handsome he was and how familiar he looked. You couldn’t, for the life of you, place where you’d seen him, but you knew without a doubt that you’d met before.

               “Good morning, ma’am,” he smiled. “Are you Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) by any chance?”

               You narrowed your eyes, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

               “Why do you ask?”

               He chuckled, taking his hands out of his pockets to show you his badge. You noticed that he was wearing leather gloves as he showed you his identification.

               “I’m Sergeant James, NYPD,” he said. You turned the badge over in your hands, looking for any sign that it could be false, but it looked authentic to you. “I’m here in regards to an anonymous tip we received regarding you and a Mr. Steven Rogers. You might also know him as Captain America?”

               You gulped, squeezing your eyes shut as you envisioned his face again – smiling at you, scowling at you, cumming inside of you-

               “Wh-what,” you asked, shaking your head, “What kind of anonymous tip?”

               “…I think it would be best if I stepped inside for a few minutes,” he said, taking back his badge. “You don’t look so good; this might be a conversation best had sitting down.”

               You nodded hesitantly, slowly opening the door wider for him. You closed and locked it behind you before leading him to the sofa, sitting as far away from him on the couch as possible. Once you were settled in, he took his hat off, revealing neatly cut brown hair – it was almost a militaristic hairstyle, you noticed, but his clear blue eyes softened the look, especially when he leaned towards you and gave you an honest smile.

               “Listen, Miss (Y/L/N),” he began, “I know that, if any of the allegations our anonymous tip made are true, then you’ve been through quite the ordeal, alright? I’m not here to question or judge you; I just need to ask you a few things. And, if you’re comfortable with me after our little talk, I would like to bring you down to the station with me to talk to a few of my colleagues, ok?”

               You gulped and nodded, bringing your knees up to your chin and hugging them tightly. After clearing his throat, Officer James leaned back against the sofa, his eyes never leaving yours.

               “Is it true that Steve Rogers abducted you?” he began. You closed your eyes, nodding.

               “Yes.”

               “What did he do after he abducted you?”

               You felt a tear slip past your eyelids, and you jolted when you felt the officer’s hand on your knee. You looked down and saw that he was just offering you a handkerchief, though, which you gladly took.

               “Thank you, sir,” you murmured, dabbing at your eyes. His smile only grew, and he gave you an encouraging nod. “Um… After he kidnapped me, he, um…” You paused, trying to swallow back more tears, and Officer James waited patiently for you to regain your composure. “After he kidnapped me, he um… He raped me. He kept me for five days and…and…”

               You paused, setting your forehead on your knees and trying to breathe.

               “Hey, hon, it’s ok,” the officer tried to soothe, but you flinched at the nickname. “So you’re saying that you never consented to any kind of sexual interactions with him?”

               Your breath caught in your throat, remembering that last night. You had been the one to suggest going back to bed; you’d wanted him to fuck you, even if it was just part of your escape attempt. But, surely, that didn’t count… Right?

               “I… No,” you finally answered.

               “Seems like you had to think about that for a second there,” Officer James noted. “Are you sure that you didn’t-“

               “What would it matter if I had?” you snapped. “The first time I tried to fight back, he hit me again and again and again, and then he raped me. I just… I didn’t want him to keep hurting me.” Your voice cracked, and you could see the sympathetic look in the officer’s eyes.

               “I understand,” he said, but you only rolled your eyes.

               “You understand? Have you ever been kept somewhere against your will? Forced to do something that you hate, that will leave you scarred for the rest of your life inside and out?”

               “Yes.” Your eyes widened at the officer’s abrupt answer. His eyes were hard and truthful when he’d said so, and you immediately shut your mouth against any further protests.

               “Now,” he went on, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, “Do you have any proof that it was Steve Rogers who violated you?”

               “I… I have scars on my, um… my wrists,” you stuttered, pushing up the sleeves of your sweater so he could see where Steve had tied you up with rope. “And I could show you where he was keeping me; there’s bound to be evidence there.”

               “Well actually, the police have already studied his home, and we did find DNA from the both of you,” he assured you. “That was the first thing we did after we got the tip; that’s why I’m here. But any semen or similar fluids had either been on the sheets, which Mr. Rogers informed us he washed before we could get there, or they’d been on another surface that he’d similarly cleaned. So, while we do have proof that you were there, we cannot prove that the two of you were…intimate.”

               You gulped, feeling your limbs go numb at the sound of Steve’s name; he had survived. And he’d escaped. If this police officer could find you, then what was stopping Steve from doing the same?

               “Miss (Y/L/N),” he went on, oblivious to your rising panic, “Steve Rogers is a national icon. He will have the best lawyers, and he will have the public on his side going into any trial. Now, I want to help you. Right now, we can’t prove anything, but if you come with me to the station, we can-“

               “I do have something,” you interrupted him. Slowly, your eyes raised up to meet his, and you let out a shuttering breath before speaking again.

               “I’m pregnant.”

               The officer blinked once, twice, before fully processing the statement. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out as he stared at you. You looked away in shame, the world around you warped by the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

               “I found out a week ago,” you murmured, surprised he could hear you despite how quiet your voice was, “and I haven’t told anyone. Not even my mother. I… I wasn’t planning on keeping it, but if there has to be a trial, and if you need proof that he forced himself on me, then… I’m sure we could get a DNA test done to prove who its father is.”

               “I… And you’re sure it’s Steve’s?”

               You nodded. “He’s the only man I’ve ever been with.”

               The officer was quiet for a long moment, clearly thinking hard about what you’d said, and once more you were struck with how familiar he looked; it was driving you crazy, not knowing where you’d seen him before.

               “You must be feeling a lot of confusing…conflicting emotions right now,” he eventually spoke. “And I’m sorry you’re under such duress. But I promise that I want to help you.”

               You gave him a small smile, sitting up a little straighter.

               “That means a lot, sir,” you spoke. “I know a lot of people aren’t going to take my side over Captain America’s.”

               The man smirked and shrugged, standing up once more.

               “Well, to me he’ll always be a punk from Brooklyn,” he said. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, could you come with me?”

               “With you? Where are we going?” you asked, standing beside him. Something about what he’d just said was rubbing you the wrong way; there was something…endearing in his tone of voice when he’d called Steve a punk.

               “Down to the station, ma’am,” he answered. “We’ll need to take your statement and ask a few more questions.”

               “Do we have to go now? My mom-“

               “Ma’am, Steve seems very intent on finding you again. You would be safest going with me, rather than waiting here for him to find you.”

               You nodded, although all of your instincts were screaming at you to run away from this man.

               “A-alright,” you managed. “My boots are up in my room; is it ok if I go and grab them?”

               “Of course. I’ll wait right here.”

               You gave him a forced smile before walking over to the stairs, climbing them slowly so as not to alert him. When you got to your room, you locked the door behind you before grabbing the burner phone your mom had gotten you for emergencies. You dialed her number with shaky fingers, but, to your dismay, you only got her voicemail.

               “Mom,” you whispered, “there’s a man who says he’s a cop here at the house. He started asking me… He asked me about him, Mom. And he wants me to go to the police station with him. I-“

               “Ma’am?” You jolted when you heard a knock at your door, and you backed away from it even as the officer called out to you. “Are you ok in there?”

               Your doorknob jiggled, and that’s when you knew – there was something off about this, about him.

               “Mom, I never told you, but the man who kidnapped me was Steve Rog-“

               You screamed when your door was suddenly kicked in, and before you could do anything, the man was upon you, ripping your phone out of your hand and crushing it – just like Steve had done to your old phone.

               “I’d really hoped it wouldn’t come to this, sweetheart,” he sighed. “I really do feel for you; Steve shouldn’t have done what he did to you. It wasn’t right.”

               “Who are you?” you whimpered, kicking your legs as he picked you up and held your body against his. “Why are you doing this?”

               “Doll, I really wish I could say I had noble intentions,” he grunted, struggling to carry you down the stairs with you thrashing around in his arms. “Wish I could say I was doing this for my friend, or in the name of whatever love he thinks he has for you.”

               He ripped your front door clean off its hinges and started trudging through the snow with you still captive in his hold, and you screamed, begging the neighbors to come help you. When you got to the police car, though, you looked around and saw no one coming to your aid. With a rough shove, the man had you sprawled out in the backseat, leaning down to give you a smirk.

               “But the real reason why I’m doing this is because Steve made a deal with me that was too good to refuse.”

               With that, he closed the door, not even seeming bothered when you struggled to open it from the inside. No matter how hard you tried, though, it wouldn’t open, and when the man was settling into the driver’s seat he looked back at you through the plexiglass partition separating you.

               “This is a police car, doll. You’re not getting out of it any time soon.”

               You pressed yourself against the door as he started driving away, trying to wave at anyone who might see you being abducted. Even after you left Buffalo behind, you still tried to wave at any and all pedestrians, vehicles, or street cameras you could see. But no one helped you.

               After an hour, you slumped against the leather upholstery, your head pounding from all the screaming. Your eyes wondered to your driver, your mind teasing you once more with his familiarity. You’d seen his face somewhere before. But where…

               It was when his eyes made contact with yours in the rearview mirror that you realized. Years ago, you’d seen news reports of the bombing at the UN the day the Avengers were supposed to sign the Sokovia Accords. And after that, pictures of the ‘Winter Soldier’ had been plastered all over the place. He’d even been one of the ones to fight against Thanos before and after the snap.

               And he’d been the man in Steve’s sketchbook.

               Bucky Barnes.

               “Bucky?” you breathed, watching in the mirror as a grin split his lips.

               “There ya go,” he chuckled. “Was wondering when you’d realize it.”

               “You’re doing this for Steve,” you sighed, feeling your newly-found freedom slip right through your fingers.

               “Mostly, yeah,” he confirmed. “I mean, you hurt him pretty bad, doll. And not just with your little Swiss army knife. You broke the guy’s heart.”

               “He raped me! He tortured me-“

               “I know, I know,” he interrupted. “I know. He’s not the same kid I grew up with. And back then, I would’ve been ashamed of him for what he’s done to you.

               “But I can get it. Neither of us are the same people we were back then. We both got so much darker, doll. I’m not saying what he’s done to you is right. And I sure as shit ain’t saying what I’m gonna do to you is right. But it’s a small price to pay for the things we’ve had to see and do over the years.”

               Your blood ran cold, and you once more pressed yourself against he door, putting as much distance as possible between the two of you.

               “What… what you’re going to do to me?” you repeated.

               Bucky nodded, tapping against the steering wheel absentmindedly. You could see that he’d taken his gloves off, and now he had both hands, one flesh and one metal, exposed as he drove.

               “That’s part of the deal Steve made with me. See, we shared a lot of things when we were younger. Toys, clothes, that sorta thing. So…when Steve told me that, in return for me chasing you down and bringing you to him, he would share you with me, the idea really appealed to me. The three of us’ll live together, just like a little family. Especially now that you’ve got a little one on the way-“

               “You’re fucking insane,” you spat, starting once more to pound at the window you’d been leaning against. “You’re both fucking crazy!”

               All Bucky did was chuckle, nodding his head.

               “Yeah, you’re probably right, sweetheart.”

_______

               Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep, because when you woke up, the car was stopped and Bucky was leaning over you in the backseat, trying to pick you up. You immediately were on high-alert, and you swiftly kicked him in the chin and crawled around him, throwing yourself out of the car.

               You landed face-first in the snow, and your bare feet were already aching as you scrambled to stand up. Bucky huffed but made no move to put his hands on you again, and when you took a look around yourself, you soon realized why.

               It was nighttime, but the thick snow gleamed in the moonlight, illuminating the thick forest all around you. You saw the tire tracks from Bucky’s stolen car wind down a long driveway, disappearing around a bend about a hundred yards away from you; you would never outrun him.

               “Go ahead and start walking, dollface,” Bucky drawled, coming to stand beside you. “It’s about three miles from the first stop sign. Ten miles from any neighbors. Go ahead and see how far you’ll make it before your toes start freezing and breaking off.”

               You whined, hugging yourself in the cold. Your tears left frozen tracks down your face, and when Bucky put his arm around you, you couldn’t even muster the strength to shake him off.

               “Listen, hon,” he murmured. “Steve is gonna wanna punish you for running off on him. But if you get it over with and let him do what he wants to you, I promise I’ll be gentle. I’ll even be nice. But you’ll have to behave.”

               You let out a sob, letting him pull you into his arms as you cried into his chest. He shushed you softly, his footsteps crunching in the snow as he carried you to a small cabin close by.

               You were right back to where you’d started. The only difference was that, now, you had two super soldiers holding you in captivity.

               You held your breath as Bucky walked into the cottage with you, and you flinched when you heard a record player – ‘It’s Been A Long, Long Time’. It was the same song you’d danced to with Steve a month ago, and tonight, it had an even more sinister feel to it.

               No words were spoken as he set you down on a sofa, and you kept your eyes resolutely on the ground. It didn’t really matter, though; you could sense Steve nearby. You could feel his eyes on you. You tried to keep your crying quiet, a skill you’d gotten good at over the last month.

               You could hear Bucky whisper something to Steve, and then two pairs of footsteps walked away into the other room. You strained your ears, trying to make out what was being said. You thought you heard Steve’s voice say something like, “Are you sure?”

               Eventually, you gave up, staring into the warm fireplace just to the right of the couch. The glow and heat radiating from it should’ve been comforting, but nothing could soothe the ache, the emptiness in your chest. You’ll never be able to escape, you thought. You should’ve given in when you had the chance.

               All too soon, you heard the footsteps approaching again, and soon you saw a pair of jean-clad legs come into view. A throat cleared above you, and reluctantly you looked upwards.

               Steve was glaring back down at you, and you were surprised to see his face freshly-shaven. Somehow, it made him look colder; you were able to clearly see the way his jaw was clenched as he stared down at you. He knelt down in front of you, getting onto one knee while his eyes searched yours. He heaved a sigh, setting one of his hands on your thigh.

               “Bucky tells me you’re pregnant,” he started, and you gulped when you finally heard the voice that had haunted your dreams addressing you directly.

               You looked away, neither confirming nor denying his statement.

               “I wouldn’t,” he growled, “do anything that could tempt me to do something rash right now, doll. I would love nothing more than to tear you apart for what you did to me, so I’d suggest answering my fucking question.”

               With a trembling bottom lip, you nodded, making yourself meet his gaze again.

               “Yes,” you whispered.

               Steve took in a deep, shuttering breath, bowing his head for a minute while his hand squeezed your thigh so hard that it was almost painful. You were stiff as a board as you waited for him to say something more.

               “Typically,” he started, “I would be overjoyed at hearing that, baby. But I think you have an idea of just how much trouble you’re in. I loved you, and you…”

               He trailed off, looking back up at you with an almost pleading look.

               “You almost killed me, doll,” he breathed. “But more than that, you broke my heart. You made me think you cared about me.”

               Your teeth clenched together, and you leaned forward, your nose nearly touching his as you spoke.

               “You,” you murmured, “raped me. You kidnapped me and beat me and broke my soul. The only regret that I have is not sticking around to stab you in the heart.”

               Despite the fury you could see rising up within him, you felt almost lighter. A part of you was satisfied with the glimmer of hurt you saw flash across his face, and despite how scared you were of him, you knew that he hadn’t totally broken you – nor would he ever.

               After heaving a sigh, Steve stood up and grabbed you, roughly pulling you into his arms as he marched into the nearby bedroom.

               “Is that how it’s gonna be?” he grunted, throwing you onto the bed. “Fine. You want to make me your villain? You wanna paint yourself as a victim with me as your big, bad ‘rapist’? Fine. Then I’ll fucking act like it.”                You felt tears running down your cheeks as you tried to crawl away, but his hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you back to him harshly. His other hand slapped you across the face so hard that you saw stars for a second. You blinked, shaking your head as you felt a sudden wave of dizziness.

               “Oh, don’t cry yet, babydoll,” he chuckled. “Oh, no. Not until I give you something to cry about.”

               As you waited for your head to stop spinning, you were vaguely aware that Steve was taking his clothes off. You knew what was about to happen, but still you couldn’t summon the coordination to try and move away.

               “I tried to be good to you, doll,” he was saying. “I was gonna treat you like a goddamn princess. You could’ve been spoiled rotten. But instead you decided to be an ungrateful little bitch.”

               You whimpered when he dragged you over to the edge of the bed, and without any warning he plunged his cock into you. You screamed and clawed at the sheets beneath you; it was somehow even worse than the first time. Because it wasn’t just the pain, oh no. It was the knowledge that you were trapped again, and the chances of you pulling off another great escape were nonexistent.

               Steve immediately started pounding into you, the bed squeaking and shaking in protest to his harsh movements. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You were just along for the ride as he used your body.

               You weren’t really even wet, but that didn’t stop him. No, he wasn’t fucking you for your pleasure. Hell, he probably wasn’t even fucking you for his. His teeth were gritting together and his muscles were as taught as a bowstring as he focused on your body beneath him.

               “I’m gonna fuck you every single fucking day, doll,” he grunted. “Gonna watch you get all round and swollen with my baby. You’re never gonna forget who you belong to again, you hear me?”

               You could only whine in response, looking away from him. And that was when your eyes focused on the man standing across the room.

               Bucky was watching you two with an unreadable expression, his arms crossed over his chest. You stared at him pleadingly, begging him with your eyes to help you, to stop Steve. But you were met with cold steel in response, and after a few moments you had to look away.

               Steve was getting close; you knew all of the signs by heart. The veins in his neck were becoming more prominent; his voice was getting rougher; his thrusts were becoming harder and more irregular. You couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or relief inside of you when you realized you were nowhere near close to cumming, but whatever the feeling was, you pushed it down and tried to focus on anything but the man on top of you.

               “Shit-!” With one last thrust, you felt him cum, his hot seed filling you up. You let out a sigh of relief, wanting nothing more than for this to be over with, but your hope were completely dashed when, after catching his breath for a few seconds, his hips bucked against yours once again.

               “What?” Steve laughed after seeing the look on your face. “You didn’t think it was over, did you? Oh, no, baby girl. We’re nowhere near finished.”

               You yelped when he flipped you over onto the belly, shoving your face down into the mattress so hard that you could barely breathe. His hand came down on your ass hard, and you tried your best to crawl away from him.

               “Fucking lay still and take your goddamn punishment,” he growled, pinning you down with a hand between your shoulder blades as he spanked you once again.

               He stopped after three more, though, and when you felt him pull away you knew better than to hope it was over. You weren’t surprised when you felt him kick your legs apart again, nor were you surprised when he crawled up onto his knees between them.

               But when you felt your cheeks being spread apart, you realized with a cold dread what exactly he was about to do.

               “N-no, please no,” you shrieked. “Steve, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll never do anything bad again, I swear-“

               “God, I missed hearing you beg,” was all he said before thrusting into your ass.

               If it weren’t for his hand pushing your face into the mattress again, you were sure you would have made your own ears bleed with how loud your scream was. The sting was unbearable; every thrust felt like he was splitting you in half. You could feel the movements of his hips in your goddamn teeth, and it took all of your focus just to breathe in and out.

               “Jesus Christ, baby,” he panted. “You’re so fucking tight, so- fuck, so warm-“

               You clung to the sheets as he started thrusting in earnest, struggling to lift your head up with the grip he had on your hair. You gasped for breath, vaguely aware that you were babbling, stuttering half-formed words that all amounted to please, stop.

               “I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just been a good girl for me,” he growled, bending over to press his lips against your ear. “You think I like punishing you? You think I like hearing you beg me to stop instead of begging me to make you cum? Because I don’t. But I have to be sure you’re sorry.”

               “I-I am sorry,” you cried, trying to turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I swear, I swear I’m so so sorry, Steve-“

               “Yeah?” he asked, hips still moving at a brutal pace. “You’re sorry, huh?”

               “Yes!” you shrieked. You managed to turn and look over your shoulder at him for a second before he pushed your face back into the bed.

               “Prove it, then. Beg me to cum. Tell me you want me. And you better make me believe it, slut. Because if I have any doubt whatsoever, I’m gonna keep fucking your ass until you pass out.”

               You felt his hand let go of your hair, and you shakily leaned up on your elbows, forcing your hips to move with his despite the pain. You arched your back, looking over your shoulder again at Steve, gulping when he met your eyes.

               “Please cum for me, Steve,” you begged. “Please, I’ve been so alone since I left. I’ve been so bad, I… I deserve to be punished and you deserve to use me.”

               The words tasted like poison on your tongue, but they were working. Steve’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he kept slamming into you.

               “Don’t stop, baby,” he growled, letting his head hang back.

               “Please, baby, I want you to cum in my ass. I want to be good for you, now; I’m ready to be good for you, Steve.

               “I… I love you.”

               His eyes flew open at that, and you suddenly felt his hips give one last twitch before he came again. He let out a long, drawn-out moan, rocking into you slowly as he rode it out. You bit your lip and tried to lean away from him, desperate for him to pull out, but he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you up onto your knees, your back against his chest.

               “Fuck, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Slowly, inch by inch, he pulled out of you, and you gave a relieved little whine.

               When he let you go, you flopped onto your side; your legs felt numb, and you looked down to see blood smeared over your inner thighs. Steve gently rolled you onto your back, cupping your cheek and making you look at him.

               “I’m not stupid enough to believe you meant that last bit,” he sighed, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “But I know that one day it’ll be true. You’ll see. I’m willing to give you a second chance, doll. You know why?”

               He waited expectantly for an answer, and you stamped down that last spark of pride inside of you as you opened your mouth to speak.

               “Because you love me?”

               A smile stretched his lips, and the hand stroking your cheek turned rough, gripping your chin and pulling you into a searing kiss.

               “Yes, doll baby,” he growled. “I love you so much. But it’s also because you’re mine. I own you, and if you ever try to leave me again, I’ll lock you up in the basement and leave you there to starve.”

               He let go of your cheek and pulled away, and you heard him pick up his jeans behind you.

               “She’s all yours, now, Buck,” he said. “I’m gonna go make some dinner; your plate will be in the microwave when you’re done.”

               With that, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

               Up until then, you’d been laying there limply, but upon being left in the room with someone you didn’t even know, you forced yourself to sit up despite the pain in your ass the movement brought.

               “Well,” Bucky sighed, sauntering over to the bed. “I’m surprised you’re still coherent after that. I didn’t know Steve had it in him.”

               You were tense while he walked over to the bed, but you slowly started to relax when you saw him sit on its edge.

               “C’mere,” he said, patting the space next to him. “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.”

               Your eyebrows furrowed, but you eventually crawled over and sat next to him, leaving a safe amount of distance between the two of you.

               “But… I thought that I was part of your deal with him,” you said.

               “Oh, it is,” he nodded. “And I plan on fucking you tomorrow. But, uh… Well, no offense, doll, but your pussy isn’t all that appealing with blood and another man’s cum dripping out of it. Not to me, at least.”

               Your cheeks burned with shame and you turned away. Bucky sighed and set his hand on your thigh, and when you scooted away from him, he made no move to pull you back.

               “Listen, hon. I meant it when I said that I realize this is a fucked up situation. And I also meant it when I said that I wanted a family with you, Steve, and your bun in the oven. I think both of us know that you’re not getting out of this, right?

               “I mean, you could run away. I’m not saying it’s impossible for you to escape from us, but what’ll you do after you get out? He’ll be able to find you wherever you go on this planet. And most people out there wouldn’t believe your story if you told them. And even if they did, this is Steve we’re talking about. No prison can hold him, and Stark will get him the best lawyers in the country. You’re not gonna win this fight.”

               You whimpered, knuckles white as you gripped the edge of the bed. Deep down, you knew he was right. You knew that you were trapped. But he didn’t deserve your resignation. He didn’t deserve to break you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

               “I know it’s still hard,” Bucky sighed. “But if you’d let me, I would like to be able to at least be your friend. You don’t have to like me; you don’t have to trust me. But I’d like to at least be civil with one another. Ok?”

               You made no reaction, and you heard the gears in his metal arm whir as his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

               “Fuck, I’m crazy,” he muttered.

               “You’re telling me,” you sighed. A laugh spilled from his lips and you saw him smile over at you from the corner of your vision.

               “Listen, doll,” he started. “I’m gonna go eat. In the meantime, I want you to take a bath, ok? When you’re done, come in here and lay down. I’ll be here waiting.”

               With that, he got up and left you, and you waited until the door clicked shut behind him before hobbling to your feet and waddling into the en suite bathroom. The bath you ran for yourself was lukewarm, and there wasn’t enough water in the tub to properly cover your body when you sat down in it, but you didn’t care. With the first rag you’d found in the linen closet, you scrubbed at your body, watching the white cloth turn red after cleaning the cum from your used holes.

               You didn’t linger once you were done. Standing up from the now-pink bathwater, you dried off with a towel and drained the bath. You didn’t glance in the mirror, and you didn’t pause to take a breath. With your head bowed, you walked into the bedroom to find Bucky sitting on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.

               “I thought you said you weren’t going to fuck me,” you stated, startled to hear how lifeless your voice was.

               “And I’m not,” he answered. “But…I’m not going to pretend that watching the two of you earlier didn’t make me horny. If you do as I say, I’ll make it worth your while.”

               You felt no fear, no stirring in your chest as you made your way over to him, standing next to the bed. Bucky sat up as you approached, swinging his legs over the bed and spreading them wide. Your eyes darted down, seeing that he was already half-hard.

               “Go ahead and get on your knees for me, sweetheart,” he commanded. You did as he said without having to be told twice. “Now take off my underwear.”

               You stared ahead as his stomach as you complied, rolling his boxers down his legs and tossing them to the side.

               “Have you ever done this before?” he asked, tilting your chin up. Your eyes were still looking forward, unseeing.

               “No.”

               Bucky hummed and dropped your chin, reaching down to hold the base of his cock.

               “Well, ya gotta start somewhere, I suppose. Start off by-“

               You batted his hand away, replacing it with your own and squeezing his shaft. You hardly even registered the stilted gasp he made when you started to stroke it, pausing only to lick your palm.

               “Jesus, hon, you’re-“

               He was cut off when you leaned forward, licking a stripe up the slit on his head, ever looking forward, the numbness in your legs seeming to spread into your chest. You felt…empty, totally empty, as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, going off of instinct to get the deed over and done with.

               “Sh-shit, ok,” the man above you groaned. He was now fully hard, and his hands moved into your hair as you started bobbing up and down, taking more and more of his cock with each downward stroke. “Fuck, doll, I wasn’t exactly expecting this.”

               You didn’t make a sound as you struggled to swallow around his cock; he wasn’t quite as long as Steve, only shorter by maybe an inch or two, but he was just as thick. Your jaw was already sore, but you pressed on, thinking back to all of the smutty romance novels you’d secretly indulged in and trying to copy what you’d read about the characters in them doing.

               You breathed through your nose and bobbed up and down, gripping his shaft and stroking whatever you couldn’t fit. When Bucky’s hips stuttered upwards you gagged a bit, pulling back to take a calming breath before getting right back to it.

               “Ohhhh, fuck,” he breathed, letting himself fall back onto the bed as he guided you to move faster. “That’s so good; fuck, how are you so good-“

               You didn’t let up, letting him guide your pace until, with a groan so deep that you swore you could feel it in your chest, he was cumming down your throat. You gasped in surprise, gagging at the sudden intrusion, but only a little bit dribbled down your chin before you reflexively swallowed.

               “God, baby…” Buck sat up on his elbows, watching as you sat back on your heels and wiped your chin. “What the fuck came over you?”

               You only glared at him, getting up onto your feet on wobbly knees. His smirk only grew, though.

               “There it is,” he grinned. “The anger. I knew it was coming at some point. For what it’s worth, I’d be angry too. But I think I know what’ll help. Come over here.”

               He patted his stomach, and you hesitantly walked over, climbing up onto the mattress beside him. You let out an undignified squeak, though, when his hands pressed against the back of your thighs, manhandling you until you were straddling his neck.

               “What are you doing?” you asked, fighting to keep your balance.

               “I know that you must be tired of being used tonight, doll,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your inner thigh. “So why don’t you use me for a change, huh?”

               He grinned and licked his lips, and you froze when you realized what he wanted you to do. The real surprise came, though, when your pussy clenched at his words.

               “I… I don’t-“ you tried to say, but he leaned up, swiping his tongue against your slit before letting it fall back again.

               “C’mon, it’ll feel good,” he cajoled. “I learned this in Paris from a lady who had no doubts about what she wanted in life. And she sure seemed to like it when we did this.”

               You bit your lip and looked away from him, fighting back the shame blooming in your chest as you hesitantly lowered yourself closer to his face.

               As soon as you were close enough, Bucky wasted no time in delving in, pushing his tongue past your folds and lapping softly at your clit, running the flat part of his tongue up and down slowly. You gasped, closing your eyes as you felt your body responding despite its soreness; you could already tell how good he was at this.

               He let out an obscene moan as he trailed further down, sliding his tongue past your entrance and running it along your walls. You hated to admit it, but its cool wetness soothed the ache left behind by Steve, and a moan worked its way out of your mouth before you could bite it down.

               “C’mon, baby,” he encouraged you. “I wanna hear how I’m doing; let me know what feels good.”

               Your hands sought out his hair of their own accord as he started tongue fucking you, your hips rocking in time with him. Every now and then, he would pull back to lap at your clit, spreading your wetness over the tight little bud until you felt your legs trembling.

               “Bucky-!” you gasped, falling forward to support yourself with your hands. You’d never felt like this before; a part of you was extremely satisfied that he was better at this than Steve. That part of you wanted to moan and scream and gloat in Steve’s face that Bucky was bringing you more pleasure with his tongue than Steve ever had.

               You felt your orgasm coming over you fast, and all you could do was buck your hips and grip Bucky’s hair. Somewhere close, though, you registered the sound of a door opening, and you turned your head to see Steve leaning in the doorway, watching you with narrowed eyes as you rode Bucky’s face.

               You gasped, trying to pull away, but Bucky’s hands gripped your hips hard, pulling you back down and shoving his tongue inside you. The moan you let out was borderline pornographic as you felt your pleasure build up inside you, pushing you through your climax so hard that your ears started ringing. Your hips spasmed, but Bucky held them steady, slowly lapping at your pussy while letting out a content hum.

               Once your body stilled, you rolled over onto your back, trying to slow your breathing as you watched Steve turn away from you and look at Bucky.

               “You learn that in Paris?” he asked.

               “Yep.” Bucky smirked and licked his lips, his stubble glistening with your juices. “I’ll coach you sometime, Stevie. She sure seemed to like it.”

               For the first time that evening, Steve’s smile didn’t hold any malicious intent, and he looked up at you before turning back to his friend.

               “I don’t need you to teach me how to please my girl, Buck.”

               Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled himself to his feet, bending over to grab his boxers.

               “I think she’s our girl now.”

               You closed your eyes, exhaustion starting to take you over. When a hand came to rest on your cheek, you knew it was Steve, but you were too tired to pull away when he pressed his lips against your forehead.

               “You hear that, doll? You’re our girl now. We’re gonna make such a beautiful family.”