#the moments when I move wrong and my back spasms are painful

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! I think I've asked this before, but do you have any home remedies/advice for handling muscle cramps, knots, and/or spasms? I'm staying well hydrated, taking electrolyte supplements, and using a hot water bottle as my current management method but it's not working super great this time Also, crafting updates may be delayed on account of ouch

[0xstarzx0]

NDA: The moment happens when Rafe comes to see Sarah at the Pogues’ shop, but instead, he finds Kiara there. (ep:5 S4) English is not my native language!!

+18

"Rafe, if someone-" you started, but Rafe quickly silenced you by pulling off your panties. He growled, locking eyes with you.

"Listen to me, Y/N. Did you really think you could walk around in a miniskirt without there being consequences? Are you stupid?"

You shot him a glare. "Hurry up." Rafe smirked.

My god. This is so wrong.

Rafe had a girlfriend who loved him, yet here he was, with you bent over the counter of your older brother's small shop.

At first, you and Rafe saw each other as nothing more than casual hookups. You wanted to annoy your brother and his friends, and he just needed an escape from the pressure of taking over the Cameron family legacy.

Unfortunately for you, Rafe developed a serious thing for you.

You never thought that, in the middle of the day, he’d decide to visit his sister at her shop—and walk in to find you, wearing a miniskirt, tidying up the store.

Rafe enters you gently, he moans, and you arch your back slightly. Your nails dig into the marble of the counter. "Move"

He begins to move, his erection stretching you. You hold back every moan that threatens to escape, and you lower your head.

Rafe establishes a regular rhythm, his hips slamming against your ass with each deep thrust, deeper than the last.

You feel your insides lifting with each penetration, and you hold your breath again, your lips slightly parted.

Your eyes roll back, Rafe looks at your arched back, you're so easy to have. He slows his thrusts, no longer moving to stimulate your pleasure. You look over your shoulder and shoot him a cold glance. "I was enjoying myself."

Despite the icy glare, a smirk plays at the corners of Rafe's mouth. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers: "For someone who didn't want this at first, you're acting like a cheap whore." He resumes his thrusts with renewed vigor, each one harder and more brutal against your defenseless little pussy.

Your breath hitches as Rafe's cruel pace, his thick member slamming into you without mercy. You let out a cry of pain and pleasure, your body tensing as he hits a particular deep spot. "Rafe!"

Your moans sound like those of a porn actress, but this time, you're not simulating. Each cry is raw, genuine, torn from your throat as Rafe pounds into you relentlessly. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room.

A few boats pass by but don't stop, all eyeing the sordid little scene with disapproval and distaste. They quickly avert their gazes, unwilling to witness the brutal coupling unfolding on the shop.

You throw your head back against his shoulder, the position uncomfortable but the pleasure too intense. "I'm... I'm going to come!" you gasp, your voice strained with need.

Rafe's hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck. He sinks his teeth into your flesh as he continues to thrust into you, the double sensation sending you over the edge.

Your inner walls begin to spasm, gripping Rafe's hardness tightly. Your eyes fly wide open, and you try to push away from him, but his iron grip holds you in place. Your legs turn to jelly, and you'd swear that no man could ever make you feel so helpless, so thoroughly owned.

Rafe's teeth remain buried in your neck as he feels your pussy clench around him rhythmically. He groans against your skin, the vibrations adding to your intense sensations. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his own release hitting him hard.

After a few seconds of nothing but ragged breathing, Rafe pulls out and pulls up his shorts. "Tell Sarah I'm looking for her. And take a damn pill, I don't want to end up with the kid of a pogue under my arm."

"I love you too, you jerk." You mutter, rolling your eyes. Despite the harsh words, there's a tenderness in your voice that belies your true feelings.

Rafe nods curtly, his expression unreadable. With one last lingering glance over his shoulder, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone on the shop.

MY REQUEST ARE OPEN!!

[bagdaddyb]

Oh to Mate

Kinktober 🎃

Summary: ABO with little plot but a lot of smut cause sometimes we all need omega Nat in our lives.

Pairing: alpha g!pReader x omega! Nat

Warnings: NSFW NSFW NSFW. 18+ Minors DNI . Asshole Steve.

AN: First time posting my writing in a while but I miss it. Hopefully I've improved. Enjoy!

It started out as simple disbelief. Natasha was tired of all the female omegas around the compound raving about you, unmated fun and a few sympathy ruts left many of the females hoping you'd truly become their alpha. No one could be that good, Natasha's few experiences with unmated alphas were less than pleasurable an alpha never even having made her cum. So only to prove the rumors wrong when her next heat started to come around she stayed close to you every free moment she had. On the final day before she knew she'd have to isolate everytime you came around she let go small whimpers and pained noises. It was no surprise by that night that you approched her mentioning a sympathy rut and offering to help her through her heat. Now in her room a few hours later heat hitting her full force she squirmed not looking forward to another unsatisfied heat.

She was already bare her body temperature, threatening to overheat if she kept on clothing. Laying on her back head propped on her pillows surrounded by things she used to put together a make shift nest she watched as you slowly pulled off your shirt scars laced your abdomen and arms proof of past missions and a tramatic back story. You were thick with muscle and meat. A large alpha whose presence could be felt enter a room you would make any omega happy. You kept on your shorts and bra on not wanting to intimidate the omega. Approaching slowly, you stand at the end of the bed, eyeing the case of water and small snacks you'd stacked near the bed before meeting Natasha's eye.

"May I enter your nest?"

Natasha's brows raised in slight surprise, while a nest was meant to be an omegas safe space she hadn't met an alpha who'd respected it yet.

"Yes."

She whispered. You cut back your scent as much as possible, climbing lightly into the nest not wanting to disturb anything or overwhelm the omega.

"What do you need omega? How can I help you?"

Another surprise, since when did an alpha care about anyone other than themselves. A whimper left Natasha involuntarily, it'd been a long time since she's had an alpha this close during her heat and it was making the pain worse.

"It hurts."

Natasha whimpered slightly curling in on herself. Releasing a comforting noise you crawl towards Natasha hovering over her you lean and kiss her head before moving down her body, you run your hands down her side as you kiss her chest leaving fire in your wake. You left kisses everywhere you could reach softly sucking each of her nipples before continuing down. Lifting her legs you finally reach her apex slick leaking out of her. You dont waste another second there was nothing better than an omegas slick, eating her out desperately you lick up every ounce of juice you can get. Something was sweeter about Natasha, her slick like candy and you'd always had a sweet tooth. Natasha moaned loudly, no alpha has ever gone down on her before and the sensation running through her caused goosebumps to appear on her body.

"(Y/N)."

Your name slipped from her lips in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. Her hands gripped the sheets, back arching off the bed, knots tying in her stomach. Oh my god. Natasha thought as she looked down at you meeting your predatory gaze. Oh my god. You slurped, sucked, and lightly nibbled at every piece of Natasha slowly building her up until finally penetrating her with your tongue. Natasha visibly jumped before rolling her hips roughly. Oh my god.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming alpha."

Another second was all it took before her eyes rolled to the back of her head body spasming with pleasure she'd never felt before. For only a mere moment her heat tampered down, catching her breath as you climb back up her body.

"Mmmm there we go omega, that won't be the last time you cum for me."

Your voice is deep as you lean into her neck taking a deep breath of her scent gland and Natasha's arms wrap around you needing you closer.

"Alpha please, please, I need more."

You hum again your own sympathy rut making your erection painful. Pulling off your shorts and boxers you spring out slapping against Natasha's stomach. The feeling of your length is enough to make Natasha eyes dialate even more you were thick and long bigger than any alpha she's taken before. Whimpers escape her, you're taking to long, grinding up against you she feels your shuddering breath against her neck. Leaning back on your knees you pump your cock giving Natasha her first view of your member and she nerely drools. Pumping yourself a few times before rubbing against Natasha you look into the eyes of the omega below you.

"Do you want this omega?"

"Yes, YES! I need you alpha."

Loosing your focus you let your pheromones go your scent surrounding Natasha and overtaking her nest making her go feral. You slip in slowly, too slowly for Natasha the stretch was a wonderful burn and the full feeling she needed. She felt doused in her heats fire. You pumped into her gently giving her time to adjust another action unlike any other alpha who only cared about thier own pleasure. Bending back down over the omega you tuck your arms close to Natasha your right hand holding the back of Natasha's neck, sticking your nose back against Natasha's scent gland you shudder taking in the omegas intoxicating scent. Natasha'sm arms wrap back around you the hold you have on her highly intimate keepings your bodies impossibly close which you knew an omega craved. Pumping into her you penetrate her hard and deep. High pitched noises leaking from Natasha's mouth.

"So good alpha, you feel so good."

Releasing a light growl you open your mouth careful of your canines you bite Natasha's scent gland without breaking the skin. In an instant Natasha spasms beneath you an orgasm having been ripped out of her.

"Alpha.... alpha."

Natasha cried the pleasure she felt almost overwhelming. Letting go of her neck you lift to meet her in a sloppy passionate kiss. Your hips never faulter keeping their bruising pace pounding into her. Your hand on the back of her throat felt possessive your free hand grabbing her leg to raise it to your shoulder. Now wide open your thrust hit Natasha at a different angle and the red head releases high pitched whines into your mouth unable to maintain the kiss.

"Alpha, please alpha."

Natasha wasn't even sure what she was asking for anymore eyes rolling as another orgasm takes over her body.

"Just like that omega. You like that don't you, like how your alpha takes care of you."

Natasha can only whimper your words causing another wave of slick,  her head nodding in response. Bending towards her scent gland you lightly bite again. Another rapid orgasm taking over the red head. Growling into the bite your grip tightens on the woman pace becoming a bit faster and rougher. After a few thrust Natasha feels your knot begin to slam at her entrance and she almost cries.

"Yes alpha knot me, fill me up."

You growl again slamming against the red head faster, Natasha's eyes roll as she cums for what must be the sixth time but before she can be breached you pull out releasing your white ooze onto the omegs stomach. Natasha whimpers repeatedly, your knot wasted, having been the last thing she needed to feel whole. You let go of her neck releasing relaxing pheromones while you pepper her face is kisses.

"Relax omega, relax."

You hum into her skin until you feel the womans rapid heartbeat calmdown. As her adrenaline stops Natasha feels satisfied for the first time ever, her heat subsiding enough for her to relax. You lean away from her grabbing a water from the case and Natasha releases a distressed sound at the distance.

"Shhhh omega. Drink this, you need to stay hydrated."

The woman grabs the bottle downing it quickly if only to have you close again.

"Good omega now rest, you'll need it."

You return to your previous position pressed up against the omega listening to her heartbeat until you're sure she is asleep. Rolling next to the omega you take breaths of your own, your rut having been left unfulfilled since you hadn't knotted the woman. Even though your knot subsided your hard on continued to rage. Relaxing as much as you can you lay on your back closing your eyes, you needed rest as well. For the first time in her life she came out of her heat two days later feeling satisfied rather than her usual seven days of misery. Laying in her nest which still smelled strongly of your scent she couldn't stop the smile that rested on her face. You'd been a good alpha taking care of her every need keeping her fed and hydrated suddenly Natasha felt a longing. Wanting a bond, wanting to truly mate with you. It isn't till the next day that her happy bubble pops, whispers of other omega sheild agents making her remember why she went for you in the firzt place. Not only had you gone way past her expectations but now the way these woman spoke about you made her blood boil. Overwhelming her with the want to attack the woman talking about her alpha. Natasha once again sticks to you like glue after her heat bristling and sending glares at any omega who even thinks to look your way. At first you think nothing of it Natasha was your partner, you'd been working together for over a year now but a week later when you hear her little growl at Maria when she approaches you about paperwork you put together the signs of her overly possessive behavior. You aren't quite sure what you want to do, you don't want to possibly mess up the close bond you two share but at the same time you are an unmated alpha the after effects of her heat should of faded days ago. Thinking back to Natasha's heat your mouth begins to water, the omega was candy. The sweetest nectar you'd ever had and helping her through her heat you were more attentive than you've been with any omega thus far. You can see Natasha being a good omega not just a good omega but your omega, you want to care for her protect her claim her. But at the same time you aren't sure you're ready to mate aren't sure you'd be the alpha any omega deserved. You ponder on this for days but by the end of it, it seems you don't need to make a decision. Natasha seems to distance herself from you, her overly possessive behavior abandoned in favor of space. Space you assumed she needed so you didn't comment on it at first no matter how much your alpha yearned for the omega to be near. Now near a month later you know the red heads heat should be approaching any day now. Staring at her across the room during one of Tony's over the top parties you can't help the low growl that starts while you watch her closely hover around Steve. He was an alpha you disdained, having heard enough from omegas in the compound for a lifetime of disappointment. He believes himself somewhat a god, treating the omegas around him like objects rather than people and the thought of him rutting with Natasha during her heat made your Alpha flash with rage. All it takes is a second. Steve wraps his arm around Natasha's waist and you're on your feet quickly cutting across the crowd to get to their location. You try to reign in your growl but it seems futile the closer you get to the pair. Natasha looks your way first, her omega senses alert to the sound and smell of angry alphas. The look on your face says you're ready for a fight chest rising and falling rapidly and she hates the way her omega responds breaking from Steves tight grip to address your distress. She tried to distance herself from you, determined not to become a fangirl like the rest but she was to close to her heat, to intune with her primal instincts to be away. You stop when you see Natasha approach allowing her to enter your space eyes never leaving her form.

"(Y/N)? Are you alright?"

You hesitate not sure what to say, not sure if you should say anything. Then you smell her, early stages of heat making her scent even sweeter and lean into her space.

"Omega."

You whisper in her ear and fight back the smirk at the whimper you get in response. You wrap your arm around Natasha's waist taking the place Steve once held before guiding her towards the doors. Natasha allows herself to be guided, your touch burning her skin your scent igniting something inside her. Once outside the venue in the cold night air Natasha feels some relief your heat not all encompassing. You lead Natasha to your car opening the passenger door for her before climbing in the drivers side youself. Your leg bounces impatiently as you start the vehicle the mere ten minute drive to the compound seeming to long in your mind.

"Since your last heat I crave you omega."

You pause if only to gauge Natasha's reaction peaking at her out the side of your eye you catch her surprised expression and decide to continue.

"I crave your pressence, I crave your scent, I gave you the space I thought you needed. I thought I needed, but tonight seeing you with another alpha I almost lost it."

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel just thinking about the way Steve touched the omega, your omega. Natasha remains silent unsure of what to say or what to do and you respond in kind holding your tongue until you pull into the parking garage of the compound. You put the car in park sitting for a moment in the silence before speaking again softly.

"The truth is Natasha, I want to mark you make you mine if you'd have me. You don't have to respond today, don't have to respond at all. I'm still not sure I'm the alpha you want or the alpha any omega deserves but I know I want to be your alpha."

With that you open your door exiting the car. Walking to Natasha's side you open her door for her closing it behind her once she exits the car.

"Just think it over."

With that you walk away entering the compound without another word and the red head remains too stunned to speak. You, (Y/N), the infamous alpha just propositioned to mate Natasha. You asked to mate her, since when do alphas ask but thinking on it Natasha realizes you've always asked. Asked to help her with her heat, asked to enter her nest, even asked her repeatedly how she was doing during her heat. In three short days you'd cared for her more than any alpha ever had maybe thats why she felt so possessive over you after. Maybe thats why she got excited everytime she caught your scent or perked up everytime you showed her attention. But maybe it wasn't, maybe Natasha wanted you just like you wanted her. The red head never even considered mating, her experiences with alphas proving that it would only hurt her and hold her back but with you the possibilities were endless. Despite being the alpha you'd always given her control giving her the opportunity to say no at any point. The next morning telltale signs of Natasha's heat overwhelmed her senses she'd be fully succumbed by nightfal for sure and even after a good nights sleep her thoughts couldn't help but flood to you. Alpha. Hopping up Natasha dresses rapidly eager to be in your pressence. Exiting her room she moves quick before another alpha catches wind of her. Natasha surprises herself by how fast she arrives outside your door, knocking six times rapidly she cluches herself goosebumps running over her skin despite heating up.

"Mmmh well well well what do we have here."

Steve's voice cuts through Natasha like a knife.

"Where'd you go last night omega? I thought we'd have a little fun."

His eyes are predatory, evil and Natasha isn't sure if in her state she has the strength to fight the alpha off.

"No Steve."

The alphas nostrils flare taking the direct rejection as a challenge.

"Who are you to tell me no omega bitch?"

He growls and Natasha growls back. Steve grabs Natasha's wrist harshly tugging her into his space but before he could do more you appear pouncing on him like a feral animal. Your growl shakes Natasha with its intensity as you throw blow after blow at the man you tackled.

"You little alpha piece of shit, it's dumbasses like you that give alphas a bad name."

You hit him across the face repeatedly your pent up frustations taken out on him one by one. You loose yourself in your anger, he touched your omega how dare he. It isn't until Natasha is trying to pull you back screaming at you to stop that you see the true damage you've done to your fellow super soilder your knuckles covered in his blood. Standing you spit on him before kicking him one last time.

"Touch my omega again and I'll kill you."

You say deathly low before pulling the distressed omega through your door locking it securely behind you. You immediately begin to scan her, eyes and hands running over her body to confirm her safety and once you're satisfied you let out a verbal sigh of relief. You pull Natasha into you holding her close and breathing in her scent.

"I"m sorry. I stepped out to grab a snack I should of been here. Did he hurt you?"

Tears appear in Natasha's eyes, at the way you'd fiercely protected her. At the way you'd cared for her and Natasha knows with certainty she wants you.

"No."

Natasha whispers and it doesn't seems to be enough pulling back you scan her again double checking her for any signs of foul play.

"I'm sorry for verbally claiming you, my instincts took over and I had to protect you."

Natasha fights back her tears as she looks at your concerned face.

"Don't apologize alpha, I want you. Claim me. Make me yours."

Your eyes shoot to the green ones infornt of you. Her easily ignored heat due to your adrenaline now burning your nostrils.

"Are you sure? This isn't just the heat talking is it?"

Natasha laughs happy tears finally falling which she quickly wipes away.

"Yes alpha, I'm sure."

You surge foreward meeting her lips in a passionate kiss and lifting her in your arms. You take her to your bed never breaking the kiss overwhelmed with a need to be attached to the omega laying her lightly you break away from her lips only to travel down to her neck. Hesitating at her scent gland you take a deep breath before pulling back the omega below you whines but you ignore it urging her attention elsewhere.

"I wasn't sure you would come but just in case I stacked blankets, clothes, and pillows here so that you may nest."

Natasha's eye buldge before shooting to the pile you gestured at.

"I noticed you nesting at the beginning of your last heat and I want you to be comfortable. I tried to keep my scent to a bare minimum as not to overwhelm you."

You pull away completely allowing Natasha to turn over and crawl towards the pile, watching her take in all the fabrics and items.

"Nest omega, I want you to be comfortable."

Natasha turns to you again lifting on her knees before pulling you into a tight embrace that you return before she turns and gets to work you merely stand by and watch enjoying the attention Natasha gives to every little detail of her nest. Your eyes wonder to your hands and you quickly step towards the bathroom washing off the evidence of Steve beating. It only takes five minutes and you are surprised by the speed at which she works but don't deny her needy whines when she lays to stare at you.

"May I enter your nest?"

"Of course alpha."

You crawl back over the omega giving her a sweet kiss before pulling her shirt above her head glad yet unsurprised to find nothing underneath. Throwing the shirt towards the edge of the nest so it can have her scent you move your lips to her chest.

"My beautiful omega."

You whisper against her skin before you trail love bites down. Corrupting her perfect milky skin with your dark purple marks. You suck on both of her nipples getting them rock hard before continuing down. Your eyes get darker with every claiming mark you leave and as you get to her lower stomach your fingers hook her shorts swiftly pulling them down. Your mouth begins to water as her shorts are discarded elsewhere. Pushing her knees to her chest you come eye to eye with the feast of her slick.

"You smell so good omega."

Natasha whines in response hips wiggling in your hold. Without hesitation you begin your meal, lapping up her slick like a dehydrated dog. Her sweet nectar addicting and you can't get enough. You slurp and suck at her bud cause loud moans to fall from the red head.

"Feels so good alpha."

Natasha moans back arching of the bed. You growl against her center tongue entering her in search of more of her juices and Natasha releases a high pitch squeal. Hips bucking in time with your tongue before she spasms and you're rewarded with her orgasm straight in your mouth.

"You taste so good omega."

You growl against her, lips trailing to the back of her thighs leaving dark purple to match her abdomen.

"Mine."

You growl against her skin before moving up to meet her lips in a sloppy kiss. Natasha meets you with equal passion arms wrapping tightly around you holding you close.

"I need you alpha, it hurts."

You lift to your knees in response quickly pulling your shirt over your head and taking off your bra before removing your shorts and boxers. You spring out releasing a small sigh of relief as you being to pump yourself.

"Fill me up alpha, claim me."

Natasha whispers and you possessivly growl. Rubbing your cock through her slick you use her juices as lubricant before slowly slipping in. Natasha moans at your intrusion the wonderful strech making her feel whole. You enter her space pressing your chest against her you hold her tightly one arm tucking under her back the other tucking behind her neck hand holding the back of her neck your lips meet hers. Natasha holds you back tightly bodies molded together as you begin to pump into her roughly. High pitched whines enter your mouth as you kiss Natasha, devouring her mouth until its clear she needs air.

"My beautiful omega. Mine. Mine. Mine."

You whisper against her lips burying yourself as deeply as you can before pulling out again.

"Yours alpha, yours."

Natasha whines before spasming as she orgasms. You tuck your head into her scent gland taking deep breaths of the omegas scent. Natasha does the same your scent surrounding her, your body pressed against her, you planted deep inside her. The red head feels like she's going crazy. Her skin buzzes as her fingers run into your hair holding your head closer to her neck. She's on fire yet she needs more, she needs more of you.

"Mark me alpha. I'm yours, make me yours."

You open your mouth trailing your teeth against Natasha skin causing electricity to run through the omega.

"Mine."

You growl against her skin before sinking your canines into her scent gland. Natasha's eyes roll into the back of her head, an unbelievable orgasm washing over her body. The pleasure is intense orgasm stretching on for what feels like years. Her slick leaks out of her in waves as you pound her and her nails dig into your back. By the time Natasha comes down from the high she's drunk on you. A blabbering mess of noises.

"Alpha. Alpha."

Natasha whimpers over and over again and you finally release her neck licking at the mark.

"Omega, my omega."

You pump into her wildly riding on the high of your mating mark. Natasha clenches around you again another orgasm washing over her as your knot begins to slam at her entrance.

"My personal cum dump, you're gonna take it aren't you omega? Take my knot and get filled with my seed. Swollen with my pups only mine."

Moans escapse Natasha at your words nails digg8ng into your skin.

"Yes alpha, fill me up. I need it, I need your pups inside me."

You pump into her faster your own moans escaping at her words using her for your own pleasure.

"Fuck. Yeah take it omega. You feel so good I could pump into you all day. Fuck squeezing me for all I'm worth."

Your hips begin to stutter as your lips return to hers in a loving kiss, arms wrapping around her tighter your bodies are pressed together as closely as they can be. You continue to work your knot against her entrance feeling how her slick pours out to accommodate you. Breaking the kiss you return to her scent gland teeth sinking into her once more as you knot slips in. Natasha's eyes roll back at the combined feeling of your bite, your warm load seeping into her, and your knot the pleasure so good she nearly passes out. Releasing her neck you lick the wound again before placing light kisses on it.

"Mine."

"Yours."

You hum in satisfaction.

"Bite me omega, mark me as yours."

Tears threaten Natasha's eyes again at your words, rare was the alpha who wore an omegas mark. Many refusing to allow themselves to be publicly tied to one omega and with your words Natasha is once again reassured she chose the right alpha. The red head sinks her canines into your scent gland a light growl releasing from her as she does and is satisfied when she feels another hot spurt of your cum shoot into her.

"Mine."

Natasha whispers against your skin as she licks at the bite.

"Yours."

You whisper back allowing yourself to relax ontop of Natasha baring your whole body weight against her. Three days later by the end of Natasha's heat you feel maybe a bit overly possessive of the female. You haven't left your room since Steve threatened your omega and as the time to break your mating bubble nears you find yourself wanting to be near the omega at all times. Laying in her nest you snuggle into the omegas body, front pressed against her back arm wrapped around her waist. You nuzzle her neck enjoying the way her scent is now mixed with yours and can't help the light possessive growl that rumbles at the back of your throat.

"My beautiful omega."

The omega coos back at you and you release a relaxed sigh.

"We should get you cleaned up and fed."

You say as you begrudgingly sit up causing the omega below you to whine. She rolls over wrapping her arms around you.

"Do we have to?"

You laugh lightly running your fingers through red tresses.

"Yes, you haven't had a proper meal in three days." You shuffle around finding Natasha clothes and handing them to her. Throwing on your old clothes you grab some clean ones as well before walking to your door.

"Come on we'll shower in your room."

The omega nods and stretches before walking towards you. Opening the door you both quietly walk down the hallway enjoying the fresh air. The walk to the omegas room is quiet but peaceful, she stays close to your side the small distance between you two after such a passionate heat seeming like to much. In Natasha's room the two of you shower together, you make love to her one more time in the shower soft and slow before you truly have to return to the reality of the real world.

"I will always protect you omega, you're safe with me."

You hum into her neck as she rides the after shocks of her orgasm.

"My alpha."

The hums back fingers running softly against the back of your neck.

"My omega."

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Two

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - some angst, mentions to past trauma, fluff

Part One

The crescent moon scars peered out from the neckline of your nightgown, still raised and angry, threatening to split open in the hope of having their former partners restored.

It wasn't often that they caused you pain, and if they did, you had learnt to live with it, but there was a knot twisting around the muscle there and every movement was causing you to hiss and wince. After you had managed to lift yourself out of bed, you stood braced against one of the posters of the frame, eyes closed and inhaling deeply to halt the contractions pulsing around the area and shooting down your spine.

A gentle knock pulled your attention, the swirling pain striking hard and threatening to send you crumpling to the ground, "What's wrong?" Azriel appeared at your side, no doubt hearing the deep breaths and audible whimpers from the other side of the door.

Azriel's room was across the hall from your own, a silly decision on Rhys' part when you thought about the complicated relationship you shared with the Shadowsinger. It wasn't odd for you to enter your room at any point of the day to find him splayed across your bed or sat by the window, he'd always liked the comfort of your room more than his own.

"There's a knot in my shoulder, I can feel it moving," Azriel nodded in understanding and led you to the bathroom at a pace that was comfortable to you, helping you to sit on the edge of the tub before moving to your medicine cabinet.

Azriel knew where everything was in your room, he knew exactly where you kept the expensive ointments and where you kept the cheaper ones that Cassian would 'borrow' from you unknowing to the fact that you knew full well that he took your things. All you needed to do was mutter what you wanted and his shadows would slither back and tell him, moments later he would return with the item and a warm smile on his lips.

Soon enough Azriel had returned to you, tub in hand and glancing to your clothed back, "Do you mind if I lower it a little?"

Shaking your head, you caught the straps of your gown before they fell too far and exposed your chest to him. Azriel's touch feathered over the scar, and he could clearly see the muscle spasming beneath the skin, you entire body convulsing along with it. It was usually Mor that tended to you in these situations, but you didn't mind Azriel helping at all, you had seen the most gruesome parts of one another. An angry muscle was nothing.

The cream was cold against your skin but you leaned into it and the owner of its appearance, Azriel's fingers worked meticulously, applying pressure in just the right place to bring you untold relief but also a surging amount of pain. Azriel apologised softly as his fingers worked their way into the muscle, rolling small circles into the skin and wincing with you as you hissed in pain.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," his shadows had flowed over your shoulders, hugging themselves around your neck and purring softly in your ear.

Azriel always tried his best to be mindful of your loss, going as far as to tuck his large wings behind him as much as possible when you were around despite you telling him that it wasn't an issue. It was obvious how much you missed them from when you looked at his wings, or Cassian's, or Rhys', even Feyre and Nyx weren't safe from your gaze.

A few more minutes went by of Azriel's fingers rubbing into your skin and you weren't in pain anymore, it had floated away in the abyss and you exhaled from your mouth as his hands came to rest atop your shoulders, "Thank you."

"Of course," he glanced about the bathroom, "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"I should be fine, thank you."

The touch of his fingers were still on your bare shoulders and you could feel his gaze trailing down the thick waves of your messy morning hair to the large scars carved into your shoulders. Warmth spread across your skin as his digits lay unmoving on you and you turned your head to the side to capture his gaze, “Is everything alright?”

Pulling him from his trance, Azriel cleared his throat and took a step backward, bumping into the jagged edge of the tub with a dull thump, “Fine. Everything is fine,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how his shadows had restrained his wings, pinning them behind his back, but before you could tell him to stop, to not hide from you, he had spoke, “I should go. Rhys is sending me on a mission with Nesta.”

You stood, pulling the thin strings of your nightgown back over your shoulders as you faced him, “You and Nesta?” Your voice echoed in the large bathroom, rattling against the windowpanes that were begging to be opened to allow the sweet sonnet of Velaris to reach you, “Why both of you?”

“I can’t say,” he couldn’t say? Or he didn’t know? “I just wanted to come and say goodbye.”

“And to tell me to watch my mouth whilst you’re gone?”

Azriel smirked, “That too,” he wound his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, swaying softly with you in his arms, “I’ll be back soon.”

Cedar was consuming you and you swayed with him, eyes fluttered closed and enjoying the contact of his arms around you, “Be careful,” it was all you could say to make him aware that you cared, he knew that too.

Pulling back from you slightly, he looked down on you, running his thumb along the curve of your jaw, “Always am,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, where your hair met the skin, and paced from the room, his shadows fighting to stay back for one more moment with you.

It was no coincidence that Rhys had decided to send both Azriel and Nesta on a joint mission, the two people closest to you suddenly being ordered away from the Night Court. Away from you. It was unsettling to say the least. Rhys had been keeping a wary eye on you since the morning Eris had left a few days ago, he had noticed how Eris had lingered around you that night at dinner, how the High Lord had unknowingly dressed in the same colours as you, and he didn’t like it one bit.

It felt like punishment, to force you into solitude for aiding Eris at that meeting. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy spending time with the rest of your family, or that you didn’t like them, it’s just that Azriel and Nesta understood you in the deepest way possible, from the intricate ticking of your mind, to your wit, to the abuse you had suffered and the darkness that lingered inside of your soul, tainting it with its inky mist.

The entirety of Prythian, whilst they knew of you, wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd if it weren’t for your telltale eyes. It was always something that had bothered you, why exactly were you so hidden, like forbidden fruit born from a poison oak. To look at but never touch, to never be intrigued by, to never interact with unless they wished death upon themselves.

You were the last resort, the one Rhys would call upon if there was no other option. At first you believed it was because he truly wanted to keep you out of harms way, to protect you and the future of the court, but as time ticked away, it became glaringly obvious that protecting you wasn’t the reason for it at all.

Rhys was supposed to be the most powerful High Lord that Prythian had ever seen.

What would people think when they saw you, his lesser than sister unworthy of any true title, possessing power that even he found unfathomable?

Sure, Rhys could mist a portion of an army away with a lift of the finger, but you could decimate entire battlefields without even blinking if you so wished it. It wasn’t information he wanted to be common knowledge, so it wasn’t.

The reflection in the mirror was the perfect rendition of the mask you had worn your entire life, soft, elegant, naive, unknowing, it disguised the raging wildfire that consumed you daily, that begged to be unleashed, to devour the world in your fury and conform anyone who stood against you to ash.

A practiced smile fell onto your lips, your hands were neatly folded atop your form fitting plum purple skirt, and your shoulders dropped with a sigh. In that moment, as you stood before your reflection, dressed in fitted fabric of onyx and purple, did you realise how much better you looked in red.

The library had always been your sanctuary, perhaps that was the reason you and Nesta had become so close. She too sought out the comfort that only the library could provide, maybe it was the smell of worn parchment or the faint aroma of oak from the sturdy shelves, maybe it was how the light trickled through the stained glass windows or the comfort of the deep seated armchairs. Whatever it was, it definitely owned a part of you, of you both.

Nesta had found herself idly glancing at the titles on the shelves, it was the week after she had been Made, and one of the first moments she had left her bedroom since finding herself in Velaris. The eldest Archeron sister knew little of you, so little in fact that she didn’t realise you were Rhys’ sister until you told her.

You’d found Nesta in one of the many hidden pews of books, clutching a particular title between your fingers, she had looked awful back then with her hallowed cheeks and sickly pale skin, and she had commented on your inability to announce yourself, and you had told her that she better watch how she spoke to you in your home. Of course that meant that you would become close friends.

Silence swirled about you, a room that was usually rife with Nesta’s sharp humour and chatter about the books you had swapped with her was nothing but a wistful memory.

The library was off limits to everyone bar you and Nesta who came and went as you pleased, other members of the inner circle had to ask for special permission to enter the sanctuary you had made for yourselves. It was an uninterrupted space, a place of harmony and exploration.

Which is exactly why you scowled when you saw Lucien sat in your usual seat with his legs propped atop the vintage coffee table, sifting through pages of a random book he had removed from its perch without giving it much attention or care.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here, Lucien?”

Lucien glanced up at you then, cocking his head to the side and examining you. His mechanical eye whirred, filling the space, as his gaze narrowed in on you, “You look better in red,” his eyes moved to the space behind you which led to the open hallway with walls adorned with various portraits, namely one of yourself that Rhys had commissioned before the happenings of Amarantha, midnight purple wings and all; Lucien silently beckoned you inside with his stare and you closed the doors behind your entrance with a soft click.

Floating to the nearest open seat, a plush black armchair opposite him which homed a red wine velvet cushion, you waved your fingers and the atmosphere fell dense, “You can speak freely,” a shimmer clung to the air like speckles of glistening starlight, and Lucien knew that if anyone were to enter in search of you that they wouldn’t see anything but an empty room before their eyes.

Glamoured.

Lucien was by no means an unpleasant male to look at, he shared so many aspects with Eris, the elder brother than you could see in Lucien’s fire red hair and russet eyes, in his chiselled cheekbones and golden skin, even in the distant surveying glint in his eye. You didn’t know much about the Vanserra brother that resided in your city, but from what Feyre had told you, Lucien was trustworthy, one of the few males in the land she would always be able to count on.

Reaching into the back pocket of his deep brown briefs, Lucien held a piece of parchment before your narrowed eyes, turning it over in his fingers whilst contemplating whether or not to give it to you. Lucien knew little of you, only fragments of you from what Elain had told him in passing, but he had a feeling that you were much more than what you appeared to be. Such was obvious from the subtle notes he picked up from watching you converse with Eris a few evenings prior.

The parchment was rough under his touch, calloused paper that was singed at the edges. Lucien hadn’t dared to open it when it had appeared under his mug that morning with your name intricately scribed onto the folded surface, instead awaiting for his own note to appear, which it had moments later with strict instructions to make sure the note reached you no matter what.

“This is from Eris,” you sat up straighter in your seat, the once unbothered and passive stare now replaced with one of excited intrigue. He smirked.

Lucien held out the parchment to you, and you were ashamed at how fast you rose from your seat to claim it from your fingers. It smelt of him, of autumn pine and cinnamon, the same scent that had lingered on your skin since the morning he had left.

You sent him a sidelong glare and tried to keep your features as trained and neutral as possible, holding it lax in your fingers like you weren’t itching to flip it open and read away, “You know that Rhys would nail your balls to the wall if he knew you were giving this to me?”

Lucien hummed, grinning at you, “Yes. But something tells me that he’s not going to find out.”

Damn Lucien Vanserra and his keen eye, and damn you for allowing a sliver of your true nature to shine through for him to see.

Deep down you were a young girl in love with the idea of fated mates, of true love and happiness, of bright tomorrows and forevers, and it taken a lot of darkness to try and squash that hope that lingered within your soul. Centuries of believing that your power and name made you unlovable, to be feared only.

“What makes you think that?”

Lucien cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down, confirming to himself that there was no way that you would tell a soul, not even Nesta, “That hope I just saw in those eyes,” he rose from his seat and approached your position, “Perhaps it’s time for you to wake up,” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he knew something that you didn’t, many things actually.

Casting his gaze downward at the beautiful cursive rendition of your name, he spoke, “Write your response and will it back to him, it will dissipate into ash in your fingers and float to him in the wind.”

“Why have you delivered this?”

Lucien shrugged, “So many questions,” his voice trailed off, shoving his hands deep into his pockets he stepped toward the door, “Because y/n,” he turned from you, talking to you over his shoulder, “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever seen Eris be so openly kind to, do you know how hard it is for him to apologise about anything?”

Then he was done, and the moment he stepped out into the hallway the glamour dropped and you shivered at the sensation of it.

The portrait of you stared at him and he stopped before it, drinking in the beauty of the starlit backdrop and your wildfire ringed orbs that cut through the darkness like a beacon of enveloping safety. Lucien glanced back to you, noting how you stood in the room peering down at the parchment, turning it over in your hands and thinking about whether or not it was a good idea to indulge the new High Lord, “Life has its challenges, y/n. It’s up to you to decide if they’re worth the struggle.”

He spoke from knowledge, of his own truth, “Were they worth it to you?”

Lucien smiled fondly, no doubt casting his mind to his beautiful mate that breathed life back into his weathering essence, “Very much so.”

It had taken a lot of back and forth mental arguments to bring yourself to open Eris’ note. There was a delicious foreboding about it all that made it all the more tempting, Rhys would lose the reigns of his consciousness and submit himself to his own darkness if he knew.

But Lucien was right, there was no way that you were going to tell him.

With your heartbeat thundering in your chest, you slipped your thumb between the fold and flipped the note open.

Eris’ writing wasn’t as you thought it would be, you were expecting messy handwriting with little personable tone to the words, but how wrong you were, how wrong you were when you could hear that sultry whisky deep voice linger in every neatly curved word you read.

I apologise for putting you in the position of keeping something from your family, but I had to speak to you, and this is the only way I can.

Allowing your gaze to linger on the words, the paper rustled in the breeze from the open window, like Eris had sent the element to give you a little nudge. Reaching for a pen, you scribed your reply, watching the paper engulf in contained flame and the ash dance away in the wind, just as Lucien had said.

It’s not just yourself that you’re putting in danger. Poor Lucien for becoming entangled in another scandal.

A moment passed, and another piece of parchment appeared in your lap doused in his scent.

Any danger is worth even a mere second of your time.

Even if it means pissing off the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history?

Even then. But we both know that Rhysand isn’t the most powerful, don’t we Fawn?

Butterflies pulsed in your stomach at the name, you were by no means a fawn, but the sincere softness of it made your heart clench.

If you’re alluding to yourself then I’m afraid you’re severely mistaken, High Lord.

The paper vanished, reappearing again moments later and you could have sworn you could see Eris tucked away in the office of Fir Manor, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and forest green briefs, hair tousled and smirking into the air with a quill resting between his digits.

This is perhaps the one and only time where I will happily be mistaken… and please, it’s Eris.

Do I not threaten you?

Should you?

You thought about it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that wished to be feared or appear as threatening, it was the role you had grown into, the one you had always played with little say in it, and it was like he knew that.

No, I shouldn’t.

The paper vanished and you waited a stretch for it to return, confiding yourself to staring at the starlit skies beyond the window and wonder where exactly Nesta and Azriel had been sent off to.

Where would Rhys have sent them? And why couldn’t Azriel tell you about it? Did he even know himself what the aim of his mission was? Did Nesta? Why had he chosen the two people closest to you and knowingly left you without someone to lean on?

I see the mask you wear. I see what it’s done to you. You’ve worn it for so long that you feel lost within it, as though the mask has consumed your light. I want to tell you to let the fire burn, to be yourself is the greatest gift you could ever give.

Who knew that the fox could speak with sentiment?

And, like you could hear the earthy chuckle through the inked words, you could practically hear him say,

There are many things that you don’t know about me, Little Fawn. Perhaps one day I’ll let you close enough to find out.

The ghost of his voice lingered around you, like faint whispers of a lover at sunrise.

No, you wouldn’t tell Rhys, or anyone for that matter about the oh so wrong pit burying itself into your gut, or about your nerves prickling with flaming desire.

Blood and loyalty be damned.

Authors Note

Hope you love this x

Feedback is, as always, appreciated

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh

[aetherdoesthings]

priorities

forethoughts: ✨guess who's sick again✨ i'm kidding i'm not sick. i have a few ideas i want to write out (all including arlecchino because she has my heart rn) so expect to see more aether original fics! i'm still writing requests rn; so if you want something to be written, send an ask!

notes: fem!reader, domestic life, protective!arlecchino, arlecchino trying to be a good wife

Being the Fourth Fatui Harbinger’s wife was probably the best thing in the world. For one, you didn’t need to be worried about being attacked out of the blue when you had a squadron of Fatui agents always watching you while you were out. Arlecchino always showed love and kindness to you, despite her cold and indifferent look. Even though her workload and job filled up most of her time, she always found time to talk to you and bond with you whenever she had even the sliver of free time. Arlecchino always sought to communicate and ensure everything was clear between the two of you to avoid as much worries as possible. Sometimes she would take you to the House of the Hearth to play with the children and join in on the family barbecues. In every essence, she was the perfect partner.

Your job was to watch over the mansion the two of you resided in while Arlecchino worked in the House of the Hearth, and make sure everything was in order. Nothing ever went wrong or put a stop to your task; you were an unstoppable force that would always complete your tasks everyday. 

Well, until you weren’t.

“Darling, I’m back.” You heard Arlecchino’s voice echo off the walls of the mansion. You stumbled off the couch in the living room, your brain taking an awful long time to readjust to its new state as stars filled your sight. You hobbled over to the door, one hand pressed against the wall and another on your temple. Your head was pounding, threatening to explode and kill you in an instant, while your muscles were numb and jelly-like. A cough was forced out of your mouth, causing your body to convulse and spasm. 

“I-I’m here…” You croaked, hobbling towards your wife. 

“There you are, darling. How are-” The sound of her heels clicking against the ground came to an immediate halt, before dashing towards you. You felt hands clutch onto your arms, one of them shooting up to your forehead. “Y/N, are you alright? What’s wrong? Your forehead is burning.” You swore you saw a flicker of worry and fear in those pools of darkness. Or maybe you were hallucinating. 

“I-I’m fine.” You coughed, causing another strike of pain in your head. You lugged one of your feet forward, then the other, hobbling to the kitchen like a drunkard. Arlecchino immediately blocked your path, her arms wrapped around your frail and weak body to stop you from moving or fall unconscious and hit your head. 

“You are the opposite of fine, my love.” Arlecchino stated matter-of-factly.

“I need to get s-started on dinner… need to…”

“Sshhh… sshh…” Arlecchino swooped you into her arms, carrying you bridal style as she marched towards your bedroom. “None of that. You are clearly sick. Your lips are ghostly pale, you’re coughing up a storm and sniffling, your forehead is burning hot, and you can’t even walk two steps before stumbling and falling.”

“I’m perfectly fine-” Of course a coughing fit struck you the moment you said that. Arlecchino stayed put, rubbing her hand up and down your back in an effort to soothe you.

“Deep breaths, darling. Deep breaths. It’s alright. You’re alright. You’re okay. You’re okay, darling.” Arlecchino whispered into your ear, pecking soft kisses on wherever was available, trying to calm you down. Once your cough had retreated momentarily, Arlecchino took the opportunity to carry you all the way back up to your shared bedroom, helping you change your clothes into your pajamas as she placed you down underneath the bed sheets like you were made of glass. She tucked you into bed, before scurrying over to the table where all your makeup was stationed, grabbing your makeup remover. She dabbed some of the liquid on some cotton pads before going back over to your frail body. Her fingers traced the contour of your face, removing all your makeup for you without you even knowing or feeling the pressure. Arlecchino rolled up her sleeves, worry and panic starting to plague her mind as she tried to stay calm and be rational for you. “Okay, I will be right back. I am just going to get some things for you.”

She was already out of the room before you could register and reply to her, and back before you could say a word. Arlecchino set down the tray of items she had retrieved on your nightstand, eyes always flickering towards you to monitor your state. 

“Arle… I swear.. I-I’m okay, I really need to-”

“You really need to shut up and let me take care of you, sweetheart. Open.” Arle held up the thermometer. You reluctantly opened your mouth, as she placed the thermometer under your tongue. 

“Close.” She ordered, while drenching a towel with cold water. You obliged to her commands, too weak to protest and do anything. Arlecchino laid the towel on your forehead, the heat radiating from your body overpowering the coldness of the towel. While it managed to bring some reprieve, it only lasted for a few minutes. 

“Can you sit up for me, darling? I just need you to take these meds and you can go back to lying down.” Arlecchino asked, a couple pills in her hand. With her help, you put yourself flat against the wall, your mind protesting about the change in altitude again. With the cup of water Arlecchino provided, you downed all the pills, and immediately slipped under the safety of the blankets.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, darling?” Arlecchino sighed, her hand on yours as she rubbed small circles on your thumb. 

“I… didn’t want to worry you. C-Cause y-you’d have to come back home a-and take care of the work here.”

“Y/N, my dear, I’m your wife. I will always worry about you no matter what; your health and wellbeing is always my first priority. Please, do not ever hide from me if you are unwell or in need of something. I wish to be able to provide for you and treat you like you are a princess. Do not ever think you are an inconvenience to me nor a burden, that cannot be farther than the truth. I will handle the chores around the house and manage my work simultaneously. All I want you to do is sleep and rest, understood? Can you please do that for me, darling?” Arlecchino moved her hand to your face, cupping your cheek.

A small, weak smile crept onto your face, your eyelids growing heavy by the minute. You pressed your face into your wife’s palm, letting yourself bask in the warmth you loved to feel, instead of the burning and drowning heat of the fever you were experiencing. “So…Arle’s cooking tonight?”

Arlecchino chuckled softly, as she leaned down to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Arle’s cooking tonight. Don’t worry, dear, I’ll make your favorite. If you ever need me just call my name and I will come, no matter how quiet or loud you say it. Go get some sleep, okay? I’ll bring dinner shortly.”

“No you won’t.” You giggled to yourself, closing your eyes before Arlecchino could confront you and rebut that.

[sadhornyygirl]

Kinktober

Day 9: sleep sex (stu macher)

You horny bitch.  It would be the first thing he would say, when he found you climbing onto his legs, sitting down with one movement.

 “How about I fuck you to sleep, huh?” Strong hands gripped the sides of his hips.

 The thought of being used and drained to the point of weakness made you attack him with anxiety.

 "Alright, relax you insatiable slut."  Feeling her wetness seep into his boxers, he groaned.  “I’ll make sure you regret waking me up.”

 You didn’t falter, the growing hardness beneath you caught your clit here and there, making you almost exhilarated by the sensation.

 "Go ahead, use me, pretty girl."  Lowering herself onto his cock, the words of praise made you clench.

 You didn't move for a moment, letting your fullness settle in, but the sharp slap to your side made you cry out, Stu grinning back.  "I didn't tell you to fucking use me."

 Shaking your head, you quickly pulled up and down again, the feeling of his dick dragging against your insides drew a moan from your lips.

 However, it was not enough.  Even with you slamming back onto his length, watching him moan at the heat of your pussy, you needed more, needed him to fuck you.

 “What's wrong, baby?  Can't you fuck off like I can?

 You whimpered and begged, hoping he would give in to his own desires and ravage you, but he just smiled.  “But it was you who wanted this, waking me up in the middle of the night.”

 “Please Stu” You struggled with the words, praying he would just move.

 "You want me to help you."  continued to mock.  "Why should I help a dirty little slut like you?"

 With his hands on his chest, he watched your pained expression, silently begging, and took pity on you.

 "My dirty slut, aren't you?"  Suddenly, he pulled you forward, pressing his lips to yours with the movement of his hips.  “Always wanting, needing that dick?”

 He pushed hard, reaching that specific spot you couldn't reach, making you arch back, giving him access to your neck.

 It didn't take long for the two of you to reach the end, ropes of cum spraying you as you spasmed around him.

 Laying on his chest, calming down and steadying your breathing, the two of you simply enjoyed the feeling of each other for a while.

 Until Stu went to push you, the stickiness became uncomfortable, but your still body didn't move.

 There he watched her dozing form, blissed out and breathing softly.

 “I think I fucked you to sleep,” he said kissing your forehead.  "Good night Princess."

@wearequeerskittles

[victimeyez]

Needles and Pins

Professional//Victim Masterlist

An unexpected discovery delays a road trip out to see a client.

Content warnings in tags.

~

Today’s the big day. On the road again, a whole three days drive out. 

It might have been exciting, if it didn’t consist of being stuck in a car with Caius and Sam. 

Caius was very comfortable driving. He’d often drive through the day and night to return to the house. He preferred his space, and it was easier than hustling Tommy in and out of a hotel room. With the addition of Sam, they could switch out driving - if Caius would actually allow it - but they had a few tourist stops on the way in mind. Mixing business with pleasure.

Tommy could hear them walking back and forth upstairs, going in and out as they packed their bags in the car. Sam had visited Tommy with Caius last night, and Tommy wasn’t sure that he’d gone home afterwards. There was talking and laughter he could hear faintly. 

The couple's first road trip.

It was hard for Tommy to imagine Caius being an actual boyfriend. Allowing Sam a life apart from him, giving him a say in the relationship, being an equal. It was a far cry from what he demanded from Tommy. How could Caius insist on total submission from him, yet allow Sam to just - exist as an autonomous human being he didn’t have to crush to keep? And why Sam, of all people?

Why not me?

He paced around his room restlessly, even though a loop around the small space only took a few steps to cover. He kneeled down to do some pushups, but even from his knees he struggled to get past three. Between his restricted diet and constant need for bedrest, he’d grown shockingly weak. He switched to some jumping jacks, anything to move before he’d be cramped in a car for days. He only got to 7 before he could barely lift his arms.

Fuck me, I’m helpless.

Five high-knees, and then he’d quit. He stood facing his “window”, the clear glass brick in the wall that let in the only daylight he usually saw. 

Just five. Then you can stop for now. 

He pulled up his right knee as high as he could, feeling an unpleasant pull in the muscles. 

Well, that’s what you get for skipping stretching. 

Left knee up, a little easier, but his knee hurt when he folded it. It had been sore for weeks.

Right knee up and he felt a sudden twinge in his thigh, like a nerve being pinched. When he brought it down, his leg suddenly seized with a sharp pain. Tommy managed to stumble over to his bed before he hit the floor, and he sat on the edge clutching his leg. 

He tentatively stretched it, wincing as the pain sharpened before dulling to a throbbing ache. He palpated the area with his fingers, trying to massage the cramp out. He could feel a knot in the muscle there, tender to the touch. When he pressed down, he grazed something hard, in the same second that an agonizing jolt ran through his leg. The muscle convulsed, painful enough to paralyze his lungs for a moment until he managed to choke a breath back in. 

The floorboards squeaked overhead, and he could hear two pairs of footsteps working their way down the stairs. For once, he was almost glad. 

5, 4, 3, 2- Caius unlocked the door. He entered while Sam hovered by the door. 

“Time to head out. Did you brush your teeth?”

“Caius, yes, um-” he breathed, and then hesitated. Would Caius be angry if he complained that he was in pain?

“What’s wrong?” Caius noticed he was clutching his leg, but the concern in his voice was wary. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy started, and whatever he was going to say got caught in his throat.

“Tell me.” Caius turned stern, stepping uncomfortably close. His hands immediately went to pry Tommy’s away.

“I was stretching and my leg started to spasm, it hurts and I can - I think I can feel something hard inside,” Tommy confessed, reluctantly relinquishing his hold. 

“Pants off.”

Tommy treated his leg tenderly as best he could while he struggled to undress. Caius shoved the leg of his boxers up out of the way to inspect, and he gently pressed on the area, searching. There was a slightly raised bump on his skin where the pain was coming from, and Caius frowned. 

“It feels warm. Sam, come here.”

Sam sighed dramatically but obeyed, bending over to look. He pressed three fingers over it, his touch more calloused than Caius’s. He dug his fingertips in, moving them in a rough circle. Something moved inside of his thigh and his leg lit up with pain again, forcing a surprised cry from him as he kicked out uncontrollably.

His foot knocked into Sam’s shin, but at an awkward angle, hurting him more than it would Sam. He immediately curled in on himself, dragging his throbbing leg back in. 

“Oh god, oh god I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!”

Sam slapped him across the face, nearly knocking him off the bed as he was already off-kilter. 

“Hey!” Caius interjected. “We still have a client, don’t mark him up. Tommy, get it under control.”

Sam stared daggers at Tommy, and he winced, rubbing the sting from his cheek.

“There’s a bump or something, it’s probably fine. He’s just trying to get out of work.”

Caius worried his lip, thinking. Tommy forced himself to meet Caius’s eyes, pleading silently.

Caius searched his gaze, and his brow creased in concern. 

“Let’s stop at your lab, just to double check. Make sure we know what’s going on, and then we can head out.”

Sam scoffed. “You’re not seriously buying this.”

Caius grabbed Tommy suddenly, gripping him by the ears to force him to make eye contact. 

“Do you really, truly think something is wrong?”

Tommy gulped. If they didn’t find anything, he’d be pegged a liar, and suffer the consequences. Caius had many creative ways to punish him without leaving marks, and he wasn’t keen on any of them. 

“I - I think so. Can I try walking on it again?”

Caius released him to let him try to get up. Staggering to his feet made the pain flare up, but fully standing it seemed to ease. He took a hesitant step, and then another. Maybe it was just-

Shooting pain shot up his thigh and into his groin, and he crumpled to the ground. 

“Something’s wrong!” He gasped, his hands fluttering around the pulsing center of the pain. 

“Sam, help me get him up,” Caius instructed, reaching down to pull Tommy back up. 

“He’s faking it, man, don’t fall for it.”

Caius pulled Tommy’s arm around him and slowly started to lift him. In spite of his bitching, Sam did step in and help until he was back on his feet. Tommy clung to Caius desperately. 

“If you are wasting our time, you will pay for it sevenfold. Do you understand?” Caius asked Tommy, gravely serious. His glasses had started to slide down his nose a bit. Tommy had an odd urge to fix it for him, but it felt too intimate for him to initiate.

“I understand, I promise.”

It was a tense ride to Sam’s lab. Sam was conversational, but Caius was less so. When they pulled up to the alley door to the lab, Sam unlocked it while Caius helped Tommy out. Tommy leaned on him to limp his way in. The pain was mostly dormant when he wasn’t moving it too much, but just as he started to doubt himself, it would light up with pain again. 

Sam wheeled over his mobile x-ray to Tommy on the table, flashing a few quick pictures without bothering with any kind of safety protocol. Caius stepped to the long side of the room to avoid it. 

It loaded quickly, and Caius joined Sam to take a look at the screen. It was facing away from Tommy, and his heart was hammering. What if it was nothing? Or what if it was something serious? He really wasn’t sure what was more terrifying. 

Sam flipped through the pictures. 

“So here it looks like…………….oh.”

They both stared at the screen in silence for a long moment. Tommy’s mind raced with speculations. Was it bad? Would they have to cancel with the client? 

He hoped it was. He hoped it was something they couldn’t fix.

Caius’s expression grew dark. Tommy recognized it well - a fairly collected mask on the outside that hid a temper about to boil over. He shrank back instinctively, bracing himself to be hit. 

Caius turned to Sam, seething. For maybe the first time, Tommy saw Sam look scared of Caius. 

Which was fair, because Caius grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him back against the nearest counter.

“Caius-” Sam’s plea was cut off when Caius hit him, striking him hard in a flurry of blows. 

“FUCK, FUCK, STOP!” Sam protested, cringing away from him with his head ducked and his hands raised to try to protect himself. Tommy winced in sympathy, the hair on the back of his neck standing up in alarm. He had seen Caius go after bad clients a few times, but he’d never seen him lash out at Sam like this. 

“Are you fucking stupid? Were you high?!”

“I must have just missed it, or - fuck, maybe he put him in himself-” 

“Of COURSE he didn’t. Stop with the shit. You fucked up.”

Caius let him go and stalked back over to Tommy, who shrank away from him as much as possible on the exam table. He expected a beating, but Caius just went back to Sam’s screen and turned it around, letting Tommy see for himself. 

It must have been the side of his thigh, judging by the slight bit of his knee on the edge. But there was a mangle of screws around the bone, right in the femur. He stared at it, unable to tell what he was looking at. 

But the real star of the show was floating further out in his thigh, a small white artifact in the shape of - oh.

In the shape of a nail. 

“Doctor Dipshit left a nail in you.”

He stared at the picture. Apparently he looked dumbfounded, because Caius snapped his fingers in front of Tommy’s eyes. 

“A client, years ago. He liked to put staples and nails in your thighs. Apparently Sam here didn’t bother removing it.”

Caius looked like he was waiting for Tommy to say something, but he didn’t even know what to do with his face. 

Sam joined them, looking a little ruffled. Caius turned to him expectantly. 

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, his voice quieter after his chastisement. 

“This one…” he pointed to the nail, bright white in the translucent flesh of his thigh.

“...yes, it was probably from that time. It’s pretty deep, I probably just saw the hole and…thought I’d already pulled it. Let me see.” 

Sam touched his leg again, groping around for the swollen bump. Tommy pointed at it to hurry it along. His touch was much softer now than earlier, and he pushed gently around it. 

“Yeah, there’s some scar tissue around it. But stuff tends to start to work itself out eventually. It might’ve started to move and got stretched the wrong way. The nerves in your thigh there got fucked up when you crushed your femur - fuck, I forgot about that, there you go.”

Tommy frowned. “I’ve never broken my femur,” he murmured faintly. His eyes were still on the screen, at the hardware embedded in him.

Sam hesitated, giving him an irritated look. 

“Yeah you did, it was a mess. That took something like, three months recovery just to get you healing and starting to move again.” Sam didn’t even look up to respond, but Caius gave him a concerned look. 

“Tommy, you remember that, don’t you?”

Tommy racked his brain for it. He couldn’t remember that happening, what could even cause that? Weren’t femur bones supposed to be stronger than concrete? He wouldn’t have forgotten a big recovery like that, right?...

“So…the screws?...”

Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, from pinning the pieces of your leg back in place, dipshit. I should have put you out of your misery like a lame horse, but Caius insisted.”

“Just get on with it,” Caius interjected. He snapped his fingers impatiently and this time, both Tommy and Sam cringed. 

“I mean - I can take it out, but there’s going to be a hole left. I’ll have to pack it to make sure it heals from the inside out. But, honestly?...” Sam hesitated for a moment, thinking. 

“-there’s not any real danger with it. It might be uncomfortable, but…it’s not like he should be running, anyways. He’s supposed to be whole though, right? If the client wants him in good condition…we should wait to take it out until we get back.”

Tommy looked between Sam and Caius a few times. When Caius didn’t immediately object, he balked. 

“You - you can’t just leave it in me!I can barely walk, please, please get it out!”

Caius chewed his lip, thinking. 

“Mmm… and you’re sure it’s safe to leave it?” He asked, turning to Sam expectantly. 

“Yeah, it’s probably fine,” Sam shrugged. “Even if there was a problem, I’ll be with you the whole trip, so…”

“Caius,” Tommy pleaded, trying to push down his hysteria. Now that he was aware of the long nail buried in his thigh, he wore he could feel it. There was something so violating about something buried in his body, helpless to remove it. He did remember that client now, and how he felt almost impaled. The idea of moving his leg the wrong way and driving the nail in deeper terrified him, and he was desperate to get it out. Even if it meant Sam digging into him again.

“Please, please just get it out. Can you really trust him after his mistakes?”

Caius narrowed his eyes. Sam gave him an incredulous look that quickly morphed into fury. Caius stepped forwards and Tommy reflexively shrank back, trying to pull himself backwards on the exam table. Caius caught him by the leg, and when Tommy froze, he closed a hand over his thigh and squeezed. He rolled his palm down to put pressure over the nail, and Tommy shrieked when it made the pain flare again. His leg was limp and unresponsive as the fear of deeper damage overrode his senses.

“Are you a medical expert now, Tommy? How many times has he put your sorry ass back together? You owe him everything, everything that you have left.”

He pulled back his fist and Tommy recoiled, his arms trembling in front of him in an attempt to shield himself. 

“Think of the client!” Sam interrupted, startling them both out of the moment enough that they turned to look at him. Caius still had his fist raised, but he hesitated. Sam was right, if he beat Tommy, he’d leave bruises. 

He brought his fist down hard on Tommy’s thigh again, making him squawk before he huffed out an irritated sigh and ran his hands through his hair. He paced a few steps away to cool down, his anger still apparent. When he stalked back over to Tommy, he took his jaw in his hands, his thumbs pressed threateningly over his throat. 

“How shall I punish you then? Hmm?”

Tommy was shivering slightly, his leg still urgently throbbing. He pried his own fingers from his leg to place his hands over Caius’s, gently, begging with his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, please, I’ll be good!” he promised, but Caius’s face twisted in a sneer.

“What more do I have to take from you before you finally fucking learn?!” 

Tommy was too afraid to try to answer, he’d already fucked up. 

Caius can be angry at Sam, but Tommy can’t. Message received. 

“Sam?” At Caius’s beckon, Sam stepped around the table to stand beside him, leering at Tommy. 

“...Say when.”

Caius’s hands tightened as he started to choke him. His grip was crushing, painful, but not overkill - closing his throat with an eye-watering pressure that wouldn’t leave a bruise. Tommy got himself beaten black and blue often, but he was surprised how much force he could take before bruising formed. Caius was good with his hands.

Tommy’s face felt hot and swollen, his pulse battering weakly against Caius’s hands in protest. If he put on a good show, he could sometimes placate Caius, but he could barely force out a whine against the pressure. He managed a few, but Sam looked unimpressed.

Save your breath - just focus on getting through it. 

Caius’s broad hands overlapped Tommy’s collar below his grasp, drawing the pain sharper. The curved tines lining the collar bit harder into his neck and pulled at the wound, creating a prickly and itchy pain that throbbed dully along with everything else. The pressure in his lungs was building as he could feel them deflate, the base urge for oxygen mounting in desperation. His eyes bulged with the pressure and watered, leaking out the corners as they spilled over. 

Tommy started to struggle, his legs kicking reflexively as if to run away. Caius leaned harder on his hands and Tommy’s eyesight started to blur at the edges. He patted Caius’s hands urgently, tapping out. 

Please, please no more, I’ll be good!!!

Sam turned away, and stepped out of Tommy’s eyesight. His lungs burned like lava inside of him, and he gaped for air he could not draw in. His head pounded like a hammer to his temples. He tried to push Caius off, but he was already so weak, and Caius didn’t even acknowledge it. 

Sam returned, Tommy could see hazily, but his sight was diminishing quickly. Caius had choked him to unconsciousness before, but Tommy had slowly started lasting longer and longer over the years. It just meant he had to suffer the pain and discomfort much longer before sleep would take him. 

“...Alright.”

Caius released instantly at Sam’s word, and Tommy dragged in his first breath. It stung in the back of his throat and in his lungs, but the relief was heady. 

“Hold him down,” Sam told Caius, his voice cool. Caius locked Tommy’s arms down to the exam table with his own. Sam contributed by pinching Tommy’s nose, making his eyes fly open - he hadn’t even realized he had closed them. When he panted through his mouth, Sam dropped a tablet between his lips before securing a hand over his mouth. 

“Swallow, Tommy. Swallow.”

The pain flooded back so fast, Tommy wasted no time trying to choke the tablet down his dry throat. It was a struggle, but the hands let up again, and he was able to finish swallowing it. Every breath in was too much, yet he ached for more. Every breath out was too shallow, leaving him caught between hyperventilation and deep breaths that ached. As he started to calm, an overwhelming exhaustion took over, and his eyes drooped. 

“Once that kicks in, it’ll shut him up for a few hours. Let’s hit the road,” Sam told Caius. Caius seized Tommy’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze again.

“You’re going to make this up to Sam later. This, and your bad behavior at the party, I won’t tolerate it. Understand?”

Tommy wheezed quietly but nodded. Caius patted his cheek condescendingly. 

“Well then. Time to hit the road.”

~

~

~

Taglist:

@suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

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@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

Thank you all so much for reading!!!

[green-eyedfirework]

"Hands off, Rick," someone shouted from the other end of the table, "Slade wouldn't like you sniffing around his bird."

Dick let the words wash over him.  He gripped the knife a little harder, and focused on his meal.  They were too close.  Too close, and it felt too hot, even though the fire was a little distance away.  He needed to breathe.

"Screw Slade," Rick called back, and Dick suppressed the flinch as the man's arm came around his shoulders.  The grip was inescapable.  "If he doesn't want to make a move, well, we're not going to wait for him to!"  There was a smattering of laughter.  It rang too loud in Dick's head.  "Isn't that right, Your Highness?"

It took only one blink for Dick to twist, a flare of pain traveling up his spine, the knife blade against Rick's throat.  "Let go of me," Dick said, his voice strangely level, "Or I'll slit your throat."

The laughter died awkwardly.  Rick's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed, the smile dying to something that looked more...searching.  But he made a dramatic show of lifting his hand off, his voice still light.

"Determined for Slade after all," he said loudly, and the chuckles echoed up and down the table, though it sounded oddly flat.  "Don't worry, Your Highness, he won't mind if you've already had some fun."

This time, Dick couldn't hide the flinch, and there was something contemplative in the gazes of the men around him.

Dick turned back to his meal.  He didn't relax his grip on the knife.

~#~

The teasing stopped.  They stopped touching him, and started watching him.  It felt like a tension crackling in the air, a tension in the air, and Dick half-held his breath as he moved like nothing was wrong.

He knew they were waiting.  Turning the corner into the tent where he was supposed to sleep, it shouldn’t have surprised him to see that Slade was already inside.  But it froze him to the spot, a knee-jerk of fear, and he had nowhere to run.

Not that he could run.

Slade merely stared at him, gaze inscrutable, scanning Dick like he could lay him bare with just that one, piercing eye.  Dick, lightheaded and wavering even with the crutch, certainly felt naked under the regard.

“What do you want?” Dick forced the words out, clipped and sharp.  Some part of himself was already curling up, begging no, please, stop, but it was locked away.  He wouldn’t beg.  His dignity was the only thing they hadn’t yet managed to destroy, and Dick refused to lose it too.

“No one in this camp will touch you,” Slade said, his voice level, and Dick felt himself go rigid.  “If any of them hurt you, they know they will answer to me, and my displeasure should you be harmed.”

He knew.  They knew.  Dick had seen it across all their faces, but he didn’t—he wasn’t—he didn’t want to hear what they had to say, he didn’t want to hear what Slade had to say, and especially not when he was still a goddamn prisoner.

“I killed Bane,” Slade said slowly, and this time Dick could recognize the fury beneath the steady tone, “I should have made it slower.”

“Bane didn’t touch me,” Dick snapped back, unable to stop the bite to his tone, “So if you’re here to defend my honor—”

“He hurt you,” Slade said evenly, “Or his men hurt you.  Or someone else.  I can play a guessing game if you’d like, but it won’t change the fact that you were hurt, Dick.”

Dick stayed where he was, cold and almost-shivering, still frozen to the spot.

“It wasn’t your fault, and you—”

“You don’t know what happened.”  His voice was soft, but no less poisonous.  “I don’t need your platitudes, Slade.”  He couldn’t stop the trembling.  “You weren’t there.”

Slade’s expression spasmed for a moment, there and gone before it settled back to its stillness.  “If you require medical attention,” Slade started again, but Dick cut him off.

“I require nothing from my captor.”

There was no flicker in Slade’s expression this time.  “Very well,” he said, still level, “You’re free to change your mind at any point.”

“I don’t—”

“You were raped,” Slade said, and the bluntness of his words shocked the air from Dick’s chest.  He was really lightheaded now, and he had to grab the edge of the stool to slow his collapse when his balance failed him.  Slade didn’t move forward to catch him, nor did he offer any support, but he crouched after Dick, sitting cross-legged as Dick clung to the stool in a painful kneel.

“There are physical wounds in addition to the mental ones,” Slade continued, and Dick didn’t know how he could keep his face so blank.  “I doubt Bane gave you any treatment.  Villain can give you something for the tears, and ensure that infection doesn’t—”

“Stop,” Dick rasped, unable to hear that steady voice, unable to—the memories of pain overlapped, and he ached, inside and out, and he just—couldn’t.

Surprisingly, Slade stopped.

“What do you want?” Dick asked quietly, raw and wounded.  He barely had the strength to keep his pain locked away, and Slade had a way of breaking the locks.

“For you to feel better,” Slade answered, “For you to feel safe.”

“As a hostage in a bandit camp,” Dick almost laughed.

“No one here will hurt you, Dick, ransom or not,” Slade said quietly, and Dick squeezed his eyes shut.  He could feel something inside him begin to splinter.

“And I’m just supposed to—believe you?” Dick’s voice was hoarse and cracking, “Trust the word of an outlaw?”

There was a soft silence.

“Have I ever lied to you, little bird?”

The first sound was too agonized and harsh to be called a sob, but they kept coming, tearing themselves from his chest as his cheeks grew wet, and Dick clutched the stool just to have something for his fingers to grip.

They shuddered through him, all the tears he hadn’t spilled in front of Bane, the sobs he’d refused to surrender to, and yet here he was, crying in front of Slade, in front of the man who held him prisoner, in front of the man who’d promised him safety.

He could hear Slade move, but Dick stayed where he was, kneeling on the ground, letting his anguish carve out of him.  The movements came closer, and before Dick could brace himself—a slap, a punch, a kick—something heavy and dry was draped across his back and wrapped around him.

Slade was careful not to touch.  Not even an accidental brush of fingers.  Dick lifted his head, everything still blurry around him, and saw Slade retreat.  “Do you require anything?” Slade asked when Dick met his gaze, his voice still carefully distant.  “Food?  Water?  Medicine?  More blankets?”

Dick shook his head numbly.  He felt exhausted and drained, as though once the emotions burst through, there was no stopping them until he was washed out.

“Okay.  Just call if you need anything,” Slade said evenly, and straightened, heading for the entrance.

Dick didn’t know what had possessed him.  Why he did it.  But there was a small corner of his mind that screamed at the thought that Slade was leaving, and Dick reached out and grabbed Slade’s leg.

It was stupid.  Slade was keeping him prisoner.  He was just as dangerous as Bane.  He wasn’t a man that could be trusted.

“Dick?”  Slade could rip his leg free from Dick’s grip as easy as breathing, no matter how hard Dick tightened his fingers into the material of his pants.  Dick didn’t answer him.  Couldn’t answer him.

Slade tugged his leg free, and Dick let his hand fall.  The hollows inside him stretched.  Everything was a wash of tears, and his heart felt like it was fracturing into pieces.

Slade took a seat next to him, close enough to brush the edge of the blanket, but facing away.  Dick was thankful for that, he didn’t think he could handle the pressure of Slade’s searing gaze, and that all-seeing blue eye, and something swelled in his throat as he tried to swallow.

No.  No more tears.  He had to—had to stop crying, and regain his composure and just—he had to stop.  He couldn’t afford weakness.  It had already cost him too much.

Slade didn’t say a word.  Just stayed in place, his breathing low and steady, hands crossed in his lap, looking away from Dick.  Didn’t make a single sound as Dick shifted in place to take the weight off his knees, and leaned farther than he had to—to rest his forehead against Slade’s shoulder.

Slade just adjusted to bear Dick’s weight better, and didn’t say anything as Dick’s tears soaked his shirt, constant and unending.

[missvelvetsstuff]

The Situation Room

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a mission almost gone wrong, Tony brings back Bucky's former assistant, who is also Bucky's ex. Can they work together without hurting each other? Will the whole truth about their break up finally come out?

Chapter 10

Warnings: Swearing and angst

Notes: WooHoo! An update. I've been writing a sentence or two a day waiting for my muse and she stopped by yesterday to help write this chapter.

It's shorter than I prefer but its an update. Sorry for the cliffhanger and the reality that idk when I'll be able to update again with everything going on.

Life is still kicking my ass and I was sick af all weekend but am slowly improving. We officially move in with mom in law this weekend to take care of her with home hospice. Between that, broken cars and the holidays I'm frazzled and exhausted.

I hope it doesn't suck.

Radar was woken up by Bucky's snoring and her full bladder. As she became more aware she saw the room was just starting to lighten up and realized the team would be waking soon.

She then realized she was tangled up with Bucky and laid thinking for a few minutes, trying to work out how to extricate herself without waking him. When she picked up her head she felt a knot in her neck from the position she had fallen asleep in, which triggered muscle spasms in her back.

A soft, pained moan escaped and Bucky was awake, mumbling "hhmmm, wus up?" He cleared his throat "Y/N? Are you ok?"

Radar tried to nod but the movement made things worse "ugh, sure. Just slept wrong. Need to stretch."

Bucky rubbed her arm "Ok. Let me help. We'll go slow." He moved carefully to untangle them without hurting her too much.

Once he was done she stood and stretched out as he dozed off again. She stared at him for a moment and smiled softly, feeling hopeful for the first time in years, before heading to her room for a shower and to get her day started.

Once she was clean and dressed, Radar was checking her emails and schedule for the day when there was a knock at her door. It was an agent that she didn't recognize.

"Can I help you?"

The agent smiled "I'm Megan, work in the dispensary. Dr Raynor was concerned after your session yesterday and wanted me to give you something to help you relax. She called it in last nite but we were all gone for the day."

Radar looked confused "I thought the dispensary was always manned, in case of emergency."

A quick look of fear flashed in Megan's eyes and she giggled nervously "Uh well yeah usually but the tech that was scheduled was sick and I was gone so they couldn't get anyone. Luckily we didn't have any emergencies."

She quickly changed the subject and held out a prescription bottle "Anyways, this should help the anxiety. Directions are on the bottle."

Radar looked at the bottle warily "No thanks, I don't need to be drugged up when I'm working."

Megan shook the bottle "Well, save it for at night. To help you sleep."

Radar shook her head "Thanks but no. Tell Raynor I'm good."

Megan quickly looked around the hall and sighed before pushing her way into Radar's room and closing the door behind her. "Jesus you're difficult, I see why Walker liked to drug you, I think I'm going to enjoy it myself."

Radar tried to push Megan away but her sore back restricted her movement and she felt a pinch in her neck before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky was startled awake by someone working in the kitchen. He sat up, looked around, saw Sam starting on breakfast and groaned.

Sam chuckled "You alright over there, Sleeping Beauty?"

Bucky shook his head to clear it and mumbled "Yeah, I'm-"

He stopped mid thought and looked around "Have you seen Radar? We both fell asleep on the couch."

Sam shook his head "I've been up almost an hour, haven't seen anyone but you."

Bucky heard talking down the hall before Nat and Wanda came into the kitchen to offer Sam some help. They all worked on breakfast while Bucky stared before asking "Have you guys seen Radar?"

Nat shook her head "Not today. You kids have another blow up?"

He shook his head "No, actually we talked and fell asleep in here. I remember her getting up but fell back asleep hoping she'd come back. I thought we made some progress." He sighed sadly "Guess I was wrong."

Sam tsk'ed at him "Don't go negative right away. Maybe she had some work to do. Sometimes Fury likes to throw small assignments at the Angels, you know that. She might have had an email or something. Don't jump to any conclusions" he pointed at Bucky "You should know better."

Bucky took a deep breath "Right, don't assume. I'm going to see if I can find her." He stood up and stalked out of the room.

Wanda, Nat and Sam looked at each other and Wanda shrugged "Maybe they actually started on their way back to each other?"

Sam smirked and Nat smiled softly "We can only hope."

Bucky checked the Situation Room and Radar's office with no luck and could feel himself starting to panic so was practically running to get to her room. When he arrived he noticed her door wasn't fully closed which grew the knot in his stomach.

He swore softly as he carefully entered her room. "Radar? Doll are you in here?"

The lack of any response pushed him towards a panic attack before he realized he wasn't using one of the best assets in the compound "Friday? Can you tell me where Radar is?"

"I'd be happy to help, Sargent Barnes, but Lieutenant Radar is not in the compound."

Bucky felt his heart drop "Not here? Did she have work to do offsite? When did she leave?"

"I'm not aware of any assignments she has been given that would require her to leave the premises. She left at 5:48 this morning with one of the dispensary technicians."

Bucky started pacing the room, trying to think. "Why would she do that? Did she leave any kind of note? Maybe something in her logs about it?"

"There isn't anything in her log but she left a message for you. Would you like to see it?"

Bucky grumbled "You could have started with that. Yes, please I'd like to see it."

Friday posted a text message on his phone:

Bucky, I'm so sorry but I can't do this. It's all too much so I'm going back to my work in Madripoor. I wish you all the best but please don't come looking for me. Love, Radar.

Bucky growled "No, she wouldn't just run away like that. Does Fury know? She couldn't just reassign herself. She wouldn't."

Friday sounded sympathetic "I'm sorry, I can't find anything in my system but Fury doesn't always log everything he's doing so you should speak with him."

Bucky turned and left the room "Fine. I'll fucking talk to Fury."

When he arrived at Fury's office, the man himself was just arriving with Maria Hill, discussing something that was probably above his pay grade. "Fury!"

Nick looked up "Yes, Sargent Barnes?"

"Radar left the compound early this morning and I need to know if you sent her somewhere or have any clue where she is."

A rare look of surprise crossed Fury's face before quickly disappearing for his typical scowl. "What do you mean she's offsite? I haven't approved anything. We have something big coming and will need her soon. There's a meeting this afternoon."

Bucky scoffed "Reschedule it. I'm not doing a damn thing until we find her."

Nick glared at him "You don't decide what we are or aren't doing Sargent." Then he sighed "But her assistance will be vital so I'll put it on hold for a minute but regardless, it's coming."

He turned to Maria "Call the team and their support staff to an emergency meeting in one hour. We need to get to the bottom of this."

An hour later the team was all sitting around a conference table. Tony half asleep but chugging coffee like his life depended on it, Steve and Sam fresh and showered after their morning run, Nat Wanda and Clint quietly trying to figure out what was going on. Assistants and other support staff at the furthest end of the table, quietly waiting. Bucky sat still and tense, waiting to get started.

Nick Fury strode in with Maria Hill in his wake "All right, everyone's here, let's get this started"

Tony interrupted "Radar isn't here, someone should find her."

Fury nodded "You hit the nail on the head, Stark. Radar isn't here or anywhere else on the compound. We have something big coming up and will need all hands so have to find her asap."

Maria Hill spoke up "All we have is the time she left and with whom. Plus a note she left for Sargent Barnes saying that she couldn't deal with everything and was returning to Madripoor."

She pulled up the image from her laptop, a fuzzy picture of Radar and Megan talking in the hallway outside of her room, then Megan's ID picture "Radar was seen with Megan Alexander, a dispensary tech who has worked for SHIELD for 5 years. Came to the compound shortly after it was converted."

Maria looked at the floor "A background check was done by someone I thought I could trust but was apparently a double agent. When I did some digging I found that her real name is Emily Megan Pierce. I think Radar is in real trouble."

@unaxv @calwitch @buckitostan @cjand10 . @vicmc624 @sandrab02

Chapter 11

[little-bloodied-angel]

This morning I woke up and my right leg was screaming. The pain was so intense and brutal it was what woke me; I had to sink my teeth into my pillow and scream, too. Every cell from hip to knee is (yes, still) burning, liquid acid going through my veins; and the calf is strained and cramped and protesting the extra work as hard as it can.

I still had to use the bathroom; when I tried to stand up it buckled, like a lightning bolt went through it, and I went to the floor. Even just rotating in bed to get out was agonizing on my hip. My foot was numb, full of pins and needles for lack of proper circulation.

I limped there, dragging my leg behind, supporting my weight on the wall and gritting my teeth. The process of sitting down and standing up almost made me black out.

Over the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror and willed myself not to cry. When I came back into my room I caught sight of my medications on my bedside table, the myriad of pills I'll be taking for as long as I live. The Tramadol on top of them was mocking me, and I did cry then.

I remember everything my body could do. I remember flying. I remember the fall, too, the agonized animal screams that seemed to come from outside my body, the brutal audible SNAP of muscle and tendon, the bone against the hardwood, the hushed whisper-shouts of "get help -she can't move -she can't walk -god, her leg!"

The doctor's office and his placid smile as he told me I was "lucky" because my ACL didn't require surgery at the same time he delivered my death sentence, or what may as well been.

"A career in ballet is no longer an option for you".

I know he didn't understand how people who dance with the goals I did live and die for that dancing. He thought I was young and I'd find something else to do. I was young and a part of me died in that accident and I had to bury it.

I remember a different doctor, a different office, her worried face scanning my psychiatric history like she thought I'd kill myself right in front of her because of the diagnosis as she told me what I already knew.

"You have fibromyalgia. I'll prescribe medication to manage it, you have to be careful with it. But..."

But it'll never get better. You'll always hurt. It'll get worse. I already knew that. I just wanted someone to sign on it, because it turns out that when doctors perceive you as female, complaints of chronic pain tend to fall by the wayside, particularly if you have a history of mental illness. She took me seriously. She warned me about my leg, about what a flareup would do somewhere I'm already hurting all the time, and I kept myself from barking at her I fucking know, that's part of what it's been like for almost a decade because at least she believed me.

I mourned my body again, all the same.

I lay in bed gripping my thigh, trying to will the spasms down, trying to decide between yelling and sobbing, trying to figure out why: had I slept on it wrong? Was it the weather? It had hurt after walking too much on Monday, but not as much as I expected; a delayed reaction? It didn't matter, in the end; it wasn't going to take the pain away.

I thought of Izzy, as I tore my lips apart with my teeth to feel something that wasn't my damn leg. I thought of how real he felt, the tears and the screaming, the gritted teeth, the suicidal loss of identity. The loneliness. I thought of his stubbornness, his progress. How much both of those realities meant. How they thrashed it all, in one moment, and all but told us, the ones that feel like him, "when the desire to die comes back just do it. You've outlived what you were, so who you are has *had enough*", and my mouth tasted like blood for more than one reason.

He meant so much. He could have meant so much more. And we have to wipe the spit of this insult from our faces and carry on and accept it was part of a happy ending.

He might've forgiven it all; he was a character and you made him. I don't. I won't. I'm still here, with my pain and anger, and I refuse to die so the people who want me gone can live in peace. And I refuse to be quiet and accept that for a happy ending I should fade away.

If you can't understand this anger, at least don't insult me and others like me by telling us there's no reason for it.

I'm hazy with pain and aware that I'm rambling. But whatever I don't bleed in ink will poison me.

[giggly-squiggily]

Weekly Basis (Fire Force)

Heyo! :D I missed my boys, and now here they are kjejakrkjearjkeaj I was fangirling with Nym (@intheticklecloset) recently over these two and Fire Force as a whole- one thing led to another and boom! This fic was born! I hope y'all like it! :D

Summary: Arthur and Shinra have weekly tickle fights. That's it- that's the fic

It was Arthur’s fault, naturally. He usually was the one to start these fights.

“Begone devil, or I’ll be forced to cut you down.” The blonde fumed, grabbing the hilt of his plasma blade. “I’m not one to bluff.”

“Gee, forget how to say ‘excuse me’?” Said devil rolled his eyes as he turned back to the counter, pouring cream into his coffee. He could move, but Shinra was feeling petty now. The self proclaimed knight king could wait. “Since you're standing there, hand me the sugar? I think Maki burned the pot.”

“Assisting a devil? And a stubborn one at that- you are truly bold to ask a Knight King for assistance after refusing my orders.” Arthur puffed up, the hand on his hilt tightening knuckle white. Still, he turned and grabbed the sugar off the nearby table.

Only to put it on the top of the fridge, just out of Shinra’s reach.

“Oh you son of a-” Shinra growled as he twisted towards him, reaching for the bowl. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Had you yielded, you’d have your sugar- hey, back you!!” Arthur pushed at his shoulders as Shinra leaned into him, using the blonde as leverage. “Begone I said!”

“Shut up, you started it!” Shinra stretched his arm long, fingers just grazing his target. Arthur scrunched his nose up at the smell. “Hold still!”

He did not. Instead, Arthur shoved his hand into his armpits for a better shove, curling his fingers.

The reaction was near instantaneous.

“GAH!” Shinra yelped, all but falling on his ass as he spasmed backwards. Arthur reached out to grab him, a hand to Shinra’s t-shirt the only thing preventing him from hitting his head on the way down. There was a brief moment of stunned silence, then…

“Geahhaha! Doohohohn’t you dahhahahre!” Shinra cried out when Arthur let him go, following him down with two hands in his armpits. “Stahhahahap, sthahhap yooohohohu jehheheerk!”

“Oo, what’s wrong? Is the devil himself ticklish?” The blonde cooed, grinning from ear to ear as Shinra thrashed and squealed beneath him, curling up like a cockroach. “If I’ve known this sooner, I’d have defeated you already! Now I shall take my chance!”

“Yehahahhaha rihhihiihght! Gehahahhaha, yohohohou’re a mohohohorohohohon iihihif yohohohu thihiihnk thihihs will kihihihll mehehehehe!” Shinra quickly reached out, grabbing onto Arthur’s knee and squeezing. Almost immediately, Arthur spasmed, falling back and giving Shinra the opening he needed to run.

“Dehevil! Get back here!” Arthur cried out, but Shinra was already far too gone, laughing the entire way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur was exhausted.

It was the beginning of the week, and the dreaded paperwork day. Normally such an event wouldn’t come around until later, but due to a few incidents over the weekend with infernals, the torture was moved sooner. The ogre pri-Maki; his head still hurt- insisted it wasn’t all that bad; just a small pile for each of them.

For her or the lieutenant, this was breezy. For the Knight King himself; it felt like decades.

“Oi, sit up- that’s how you fall asleep.” Shinra elbowed him gently, snapping him out of his sleepy trance. “Speaking of, did you sleep at all last night? I swear I heard you snoring for the most of it.”

“A Knight King gets plenty of stamina. This however- it’s poison. It drains my life force.” Arthur looked down miserably at the half finished paper, feeling his eyes start to droop just after reading the first few lines. “I’ve sat here for eons. Any longer and I won’t be able to go on…”

“It’s been five minutes. Most of them you spent asleep.” Shinra elbowed him again when Arthur started to droop, shaking him awake once more. “Do you want some coffee? An energy drink- water?”

“Coffee would be nice..” Arthur nodded through a yawn, watching Shinra get up to make it. “Make haste, devil- before this poison spreads to my he-aaaaart..”

“Sure, sure, whatever.” Shinra rolled his eyes as Arthur yawned again, stretching his arms out overhead. “Don’t be asleep when I get back or else.”

Arthur knew Shinra likely meant it. He leaned into his hand as he stared at the paper, the world growing blurrier and blurrier until…

“Eheh!” Something sharp and ticklish jabbed his sides. His vision was blind- when did that happen? Oh no- the poison spread to his eyes! “I can’t see-”

The paper he was working on fluttered off his face. Arthur stared. Oh.

Then the tickles came back and he didn’t have any time to feel silly.

“I told you to stay awake, didn’t I?” Shinra growled in his ear as he squeezed the life out of Arthur’s sides, making the blonde squeal and squirm in his clutches. “I told you, and you fell asleep anyway! This is what you get!”

“Aehahhhahahha! Rehehahahaleahahase me, dehheheehevil! Hohohow dahahahare yohohohu- gehahahhahahahhah!” The Knight King tried and failed to grab his hands, still groggy with sleep as Shinra danced his fingers up and down his torso. “Begohohohohone, dehhehehevil-HEhhehehehehehhahah!”

“You know- you’re awfully bold to ask for coffee from me and then tell me to ‘begone’. Actually- didn’t you say the same thing yesterday too?” Shinra’s efforts were doubled as Arthur snorted like a pig, trying and failing to guard his stomach from the devil’s prodding fingers. “Well too bad for you! I’m here with an antidote for your ‘poison’, and I’m not going anywhere until it’s in full effect!”

The coffee had grown cold by the time they were done, but Arthur wasn’t sleepy anymore.

A win is a win?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Shut up! It’s not like you’ve never been stuck before!” Shinra argued at the Knight King- his stance weakened significantly as he swayed to and from. “Get me down!”

“Usually I’d leave devils like yourself like this, but as a Knight King, I suppose I have to help you.” A puff of laughter escaped the blonde’s lips, momentarily breaking his monologue. Seeing Shinra hanging upside down in a tree with his leg caught within the branches was quite the sight! Part of him wanted to take a few pictures.

Well…

“Oi, put your phone away and help me!” Shinra cried, swiping at Arthur as the other snapped a few shots, ducking and weaving out of the brunette’s reach. “Arthur!”

“Pfft, okay okay.” Tossing his phone aside, he reached up and grabbed Shinra by the waist- or ribs. He was never good at devil anatomy. “I’m gonna pull you down- try not to squirm.”

“Hurry u-eehheahhaha, stahhahap!” Shinra cried, shivering all over at the feeling of tickles. “Don’t tihihickle me!”

“I’m not trying too- damn, how’d you get so stuck?” Arthur gave another tug, squeezing Shinra more and more as he pulled. The entire time, the brunette was giggling and curling up, punching at the air and holding his face as he tried and failed to escape. “I told you to stop squirming!”

“Ahahahand I tohohold yoohohou tohoho stahhap tihihihckli-EHEHE!” Hands to his hips did him in. He arched so harshly he went backwards into Arthur, his leg deciding that was the time to come loose. The two boys went flailing into the dirt below- groaning in mutual pain as leaves scattered around them.

“Ugh..Devil, are you hurt?” Arthur asked, feeling Shinra shake his head. “Good. You can carry me back.”

“Oh shit- did you get hurt?” Shinra shot up, staring down at Arthur’s torso.

“No, but I’m far too tired. It’s the least you can do for knocking the air out of me.”

Shira swore, digging into the blonde’s sides and making him jump and cackle.

He did end up carrying Arthur home though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ghgggggggggggghhh.

Shinra felt his eye twitch. He pressed them closed tighter, practically squinting.

Ghgggggg-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhch.

He pulled the pillow tighter around his ears, trying to block out the sound.

Khggggggh-ghhhghgh-zhhhhhhhhhhgh

Now that last one sounded personal. Shinra twisted in his bed to glare down at the blonde sleeping away. Arthur wasn’t usually the type to snore; most nights the most you’d hear out of him is sleep talking through a dream-made acceptance speech. It was only when he got sick he snored.

And good lord he could snore!

“Oi, Knight King!” Shinra whispered sharply down at him, waving to get his attention. Usually he’d be more sympathetic for his roommate in times like this, but Arthur was on the very last leg of his cold. After what felt like decades listening to him snore, he finally had enough. “Wake up!”

“Zzh-heh?” Snorting awake, Arthur blinked blurrily up at him, wiping at his face with a tired hand. “What? The princess wishes me to marry her? I’m flattered, but I am far too committed to my duties.”

“No, dumbass! Wake up! You’re snoring like crazy!” Shinra growled, climbing down the latter of their bunk before heading to the bathroom. “Hang on, let me get the decongestants.”

“I don’t need your potions, Devil. I’m fine. Besides its-” Arthur looked at the clock, wincing. “Good lord- 1 am?- I can survive the night.”

“Well, I can’t.” Shinra came back with a glass of water and two pills, offering them to the blonde. “Take them. That’ll clear your up.”

Arthur stared. Then he scrunched up his nose in distaste, shaking his head. “Those are poison.”

“They’re medicine!”

“They taste horrible.”

“You sound like ass- take the freaking pills!” Too tired for patience, Shinra put down the water and climbed onto Arthur’s bed, grabbing at his sides as he brought the pills to his mouth. “Come on- come on, Knight King- the princess wants you to take them!”

“The priiihihncess is a dehehhevil! A dehihihvil in dihhihisguiihihse!” Arthur giggled out, one hand slapped over his mouth as the other shoved at Shinra, trying and failing to keep it down. “Stahhahap, it tihihihickles!”

“Take. The. Meds. Now!” Shinra growled, worming his fingers higher up as Arthur fell back into the bed, squeaking and giggling all the way. He was about to shove a hand into the blonde’s gut to really get him going when the door suddenly opened. “L-Lieutenant!”

Hinawa looked beyond exhausted, hair slightly messy and glasses missing. He also looked really, really pissed. He walked over, taking in the sight as his eyes landed on the pills in Shinra’s hand.

Without any words, he held out his hand for them. Shinra gave them without question. Hinawa turned to Arthur.

“These will make you into a grand knight king. Take them or you’ll die to the witch's poison.” He spoke so seriously even Shinra believed him. Arthur blanched before snatching the pills, gulping them down with every last drop of water.

“Good. Bed. Now.” Hinawa gave Shinra a look that sent chills up his spine. Quickly, the brunette did so, watching the older man leave. Before the door shut, he heard a soft “Goodnight boys.”

“Scary…” Shinra moaned. Below him, Arthur was fast asleep already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s it! This charade has gone on LONG ENOUGH!” Shinra declared one afternoon- tossing down his coat and pointing at the blonde before him. “You and me- outside; right now!”

“Bring it on, Devil. I’ve been waiting for this day.” Arthur nodded, following the brunette out the door. Tamaki- who had been sitting by watching the entire fiasco- turned to the others with wide eyes.

“Should we stop them?” She asked- still new to Company 8’s dynamics.

“They’ll be fine. They do this at least once a week.” Maki reassured her, sorting through the remains of her paperwork. “If you want, why don’t you go out and see for yourself? I can take care of things here.”

Tamaki nodded, standing up and heading towards the door. With a small huff, she pushed it open to find…

“COME HERE!” Shinra yelled out, diving into Arthur’s middle as the blonde grabbed onto his shirt. Sparks flew and flames ignited as Shinra took flight, soaring him and Arthur through the air. Despite such a move, they only skimmed the rooftop, no different than a fly buzzing around a sugar cube.

“Think you’ve one? Ha! Take this!” Arthur wasn't deterred. The second they reached the center of the roof once more he brought the hilt of his sword into Shinra’s back, making him stumble to his feet. Tamaki sucked in a small hiss- that couldn’t have felt good.

Neither did the suplex Shinra performed on Arthur. With the blonde on his back, Shirna was quick to sit on his hips, one hand grabbing at his wrists while the other…

“AH! Shihihihihihihit!” Arthur yelped, arching when Shinra’s fingers attacked his stomach, sending waves of ticklishness up his core. “Dehehehhevil!”

“Whahaht?” Shinra mimicked, giggling like a goon as he carried on gently tickling the other. He was smiling that devilish grin of his- the kind that never failed to make Tamaki’s heart do little flutters whenever it came around. “Come on- fight back, Knight King? What is it- too much for you to handle?”

“Yohohoohu shuhuhuhut yoooohur fahahhahce! Gehahhaha, I’m juhuhust gehehhehetting stahahhahartred!” With a burst of strength, Arthur broke free from Shinra’s grip, attacking the other’s ribs with full force. The brunette yelped as he doubled over, giggling like a child almost immediately. “Tahhahahke thahahahaht!”

“Wow- and here I thought they’d spar more before getting into the tickles.” Maki’s amused tone make Tamaki jump out her skin, finding the older girl watching alongside her. “Last week it took them a few more attacks before they got going.”

“They’ve been on edge all week. This is their stress relief.” Hinawa added, making Maki nod in agreement.

“Latom.” Iris added, tenting hands. Tamaki copied her almost automatically.

“Ehehehehheheh! Dohoohohohn’t juhuhuhuuhst stahhahahnd thehehehere- hehehehelp meheheh!” Shinra called out to them, half fighting off Arthur’s attacks and half digging into the nearest soft spot he could find. “Geheheheht his neehheheck-EHEHEHEH!”

“Dohohohon’t goohohoho gihihihving awahhahy my sehehehecrets! Hihihis feheheht! Gehehhet his feheheheh-EHEEHEHK!” Arthur yelped just as loudly when Shinra dug into his highest ribs, the hands in Shinra’s armpits starting to weaken. “GEHEHEHT OOHOHOHUT!”

“DIHIHIIHIHITTOOHOHOHOHO!”

“They’ll work it out eventually.” Hinawa returned to his desk, Maki following not too long after. Iris stayed with Tamaki, giggling in her hand as she watched the boys play.

“They’re always like this- you don’t have to worry.” She reassured her, squeezing Tamaki’s hand. “Come- lets go get some tea before they realize we’re still here.”

Away they went, leaving the boys screaming and cackling on the rooftop in their tickle fight. Soon the noise died down, the boys returning to the office disheveled and giggly.

“Iihihll..I’ll win nehehext time!” Shinra called out, pointing at a sleepy Arthur as the blonde sank into his seat.

“Suhuhure, shuuhhure..dehhehevil.” Arthur rolled his eyes, head hitting the desk as he began to snore. Only Maki shaking him kept him from completely passing out.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” Tamaki mused as she passed him a mug, watching his ears go red. “Who knew the hero had such a weakness?”

There was a brief pause in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite read passing over them before he began to laugh, taking the mug with that trademark smile of his. “Well- all the best heroes have one. Sometimes two.”

“What’s the other one?” She asked automatically, tilting her head when he only smiled around his mug.

“That’s a secret”

Thanks for reading!

[writingamongther0ses]

What I'd Do For You

Bad End is a series full of regrets and what-ifs, including what the relationship between Mary Arden Ayres and Amaryllis Eagerton would've been like if Amaryllis had lived. Unfortunately, in the book canon, Amaryllis is dead, her soul haunting the machines of Sunshine and all Mary Arden can do is carry her body away.

CW/TW for soft gore.

Day 4 of @writeblrfantasy's WIP Romance Week

-_-

"Can...can you take my body?"

Mary Arden blinked. "What? Take your body where?"

"I don't know," Amaryllis said, the screen glitching a bit before she released a deep breath that sounded tinged with pain, reaching up and undoing her ponytail. Her hair fell in sunshine curls across her shoulders. "Just out of the arcade where my parents can find me. I don't..." The screen glitched again, and this time, she couldn't resist a soft noise. "I see them, sometimes, looking for me, even weeks after the search has been called off. I don't want them wasting their entire lives looking for me."

That made a horrifying amount of sense. "But, what about you? Won't you..." Mary Arden gestured to the corpse and to the machine. Amaryllis raised a brow before her eyes widened with realization.

"Oh, no! My soul's in the machine now. I think I've been limiting myself to here, but I wonder..." Her eyes went distant and, for a moment, the arcade was filled with noise and light as every machine lit up.

And with that one last concern...

"Okay," Mary Arden said. "Yeah, I'll do that."

Amaryllis blinked and then smiled. It was a pretty, soft smile, one that made Mary Arden's cheeks warm. She shook off the strange reaction and held out her arms to Glitch, who stared at her blankly. "Ready when you are," she said.

"Right."

The wires began to pull out.

Almost immediately, Glitch's body began to jerk and spasm as the wires buried deep in its flesh pulled away from where they must've been for months. Mary Arden resisted a shiver of disgust as she watched the wires move back and out of its cheek, revealing muscle and layers of skin and what looked to be teeth. Something that might've been blood once began to well up and leak, colored darkly in the darkness of the room.

She stepped closer when the first wire pulled out completely, its end smeared with gore. The second and third followed quickly after that. The fourth took a little longer, followed by several small wires that, if Mary Arden was guessing, must’ve acted as support or anchors based on how stained they were.

The fifth made the wettest sound as it yanked out of the zombie’s back. At the end was what looked like a piece of lung. Her stomach twisted, hard, and she could feel vomit start to climb up her throat. Before she could allow herself to throw up, Glitch took a step forward. Its feet went wrong, and Mary Arden lunged forward in time to catch the corpse.

Amaryllis's body made a weird sound at the contact and felt strange in her arms, but Mary Arden refused to complain. Instead, she shifted their positions and hauled her into a piggyback ride.

Her back ached at the weight, but then her eyes caught Amaryllis' smile.

It stopped hurting.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Suptober day 1 - The Liminal Moment

Dean's managed to completely screw up his back. Bobby sends him... somewhere?

Suptober prompt: Liminal

(Read on AO3)

The pain isn't getting any better.

Okay, understatement.

The pain is getting worse every day. The last couple of mornings it had hurt so much just to get out of bed that there had been tears in his eyes by the time his feet were on the floor.

He'd manged to torque himself somehow, moved in exactly the wrong way by half an inch a few weeks ago, and something in his lower back had seized and squeezed and it hasn't let go since. What started as a sharp but localized ache has spread, more and more of his muscles going into spasm as he's held himself in increasingly awkward ways in search of relief. At this point his entire left side, kneecap to earlobe, is a hot line of agony, centered on a spot near his kidney that feels like a rusty rebar's been shoved straight through it.

But Dean's no wimp, and he's no whiner, either. No matter how bad he hurts he's showing up for work every day, putting in the hours, pulling his weight. Maybe he's not too fast on his feet right now, shuffling from car to car on the shop floor like somebody's decrepit grandpa, but he's still covering the floor. He's got a lifetime of experience with suffering in silence, after all, and nobody needs to know his business except him.

He's hunched crookedly over the engine of a '93 Chrysler LeBaron when Bobby yells for him, “GODDAMMIT DEAN!!” cracking through the shop so loud and so unexpected that he immediately straightens up on reflex. The sudden movement brings pain so intense he's briefly nauseated. His eyesight swims, and for a few seconds he worries he's about to pass out. By the time he feels steady again his boss is standing in front of him, looking equal parts irritated and worried.

“Boy, what's gotten into you lately?” he asks gruffly. “You look like hell, and you've been actin' like you're half-dead for days. You sick or somethin'?”

Dean tries to play it cool, but as he reaches to lean on the LeBaron's bumper a tremor in his hand betrays him. Busted. He grits his teeth and fesses up. “Kinda threw out my back a week or two ago. Pain keeps getting worse an' worse. I didn't mean for it to affect my job, though. I'm sorry if–”

Bobby cuts him off with an impatient gesture. “Y'ain't got nothin' to apologize for, son. You're more than just a shop hand to me, you know that.” He pulls off his grimy trucker cap, runs a hand through his thinning hair, and sighs. “You gotta take better care of yourself, Dean. You ain't nineteen any more. God knows none of us are.” He turns to his left and calls, “Garth, come take over on this Chrysler.”

“What? No!” Dean tries to block his lanky coworker's access to the engine, but Garth's got the advantages of height, reach, and a functioning muscular system and Dean can't even slow him down. Bobby tugs him carefully toward the office door. “It's fine, I can still work!” he protests.

“Not today you can't,” he says. “Go wash your hands, and then I want you to head on over across the street.”

Dean looks out through the open doors of the garage bay and across the two-lane blacktop that runs by Bobby's shop. There's a tiny strip mall on the other side of the road: four bland storefronts and an Italian restaurant. “You... want me to go... pick up a pizza?” he guesses.

His boss brings his hand up like he's about to dole out one of his trademark slaps to the back of his mechanic's head. Then he seems to think better of it and stops himself with a huff. “Try two doors down from the pizza place, idjit.” He gives Dean's shoulder a gentle shove. “Wash up and go. I'll call ahead. By the time you get yourself dragged across the way there'll be somebody waitin' for ya.”

Aching, dazed, and confused, Dean complies. It takes him a good five minutes to shamble his way up to the cheery yellow door he's been directed to. The sign above it declares this place to be The Liminal Moment and Dean has no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean. He turns the knob and walks inside as a collection of small bronze bells tinkle above his head.

He finds himself in a generic waiting area – a couple of chairs, a small table with some magazines, a reception desk (currently unmanned). There's an assortment of potted plants on the desk and the windowsills, and a small electric fountain burbling in the corner. The walls are painted a softer shade of the door's yellow. Behind the desk, someone has stuck up one of those cutesy inspirational stick-on decals. It reads “Honor the space between no longer and not yet – Nancy Levin”.

Dean still does not know what this place is or why he was sent here.

“I'll be right with you,” calls a rough voice. A few moments later a breathtakingly beautiful man strides in to the room with a gummy smile and a “Hello, Dean.”

Off balance and befuddled, Dean offers a limp wave in response.

The man continues. “I just got off the phone with Bobby. He says you're in a great deal of pain?”

“Yeah, I, uh, fucked up my back? What is this place, man? Bobby told me to walk over. Why am I here?”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, we're doing this all out of order. Welcome to The Liminal Moment. My name is Castiel. I'll be your masseur today.”

This story concludes here!

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 4 - Stalking - Strike Back (TV)

cw - aftermath of torture, implied eye trauma

Will never thought he would have to defend attacks from his own team but the Project Tennebrae reveal tore everything apart. He runs. Before Donovan can do anything to stop him he runs. But his head hurts. He doesn't really know where he is. All he knows his he needs to run. AU where Jensen doesn't die but not everything ends up ok when Donovan's murder fails

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

Will stumbled, falling against the upcoming wall. The grit scraped at his palms as he frantically pushed off to get his feet underneath him.

The world spun around him and his footsteps pounded in his ears as they pounded the pavement. Will used the wall as a crutch, like someone lost in a maze, to get as far away from here as he could.

He had to get somewhere safe. There was nowhere safe. Everything was wrong. Everything was lies. Everything hurt. He couldn’t think through the pounding behind his eye. Gracie had been right. He should have stayed in hospital. He wasn’t fit to be in the field. He shouldn’t be in the field anyway. He was just the fucking computer guy.

Someone honked as Will dashed across the road. He just had to get as far away from here as possible. Then he could stop. Then he could rest. No, no he couldn’t because the team had to know. He had to tell the team they couldn’t trust Donovan.

Another wall. This time on his blind side sending Will sprawling on the floor. No, no. Adeena would be following him. He knew too much she had to be following him. He didn’t have time to stop. Will stumbled up to his feet but his head swum, spinning on his neck as he tried to work out which way was forwards. Hospital, yeah he should probably be in the hospital. But then people would ask questions. Questions that would lead back to Donovan and Section 20. No, no hospitals.

“Sir, sir are you ok?” a faceless voice matched with a distant hand on his arm. He was going to throw up. The pain was a phantom of that chisel pounding into his skull. Even his remaining eye couldn’t see anymore. Why was he running? Where was Gracie? Wyatt? Mac? Why was he in the field without his team? He shouldn’t be in the field anyway. He was just the fucking computer guy. Although he got in just as much trouble when he was in front of the computers.

And there it was. He remembered. He needed to run.

“Will, there you are.”

No. No No No.

“Thank you miss. I was so worried,” Adeena cooed, her cold harsh grip replacing the faceless woman’s soft one on his elbow.

“No, no,” the begging fell out of Will’s mouth desperately instead of rattling around his brain.

“So sorry. My brother here has a serious concussion and must have forgotten where he was. I need to get him back to the hospital,” Adeena’s words faded in and out between Will’s struggles. Nothing he could muster was enough.

“Oh don’t worry about it I was just concerned. He really should be in the hospital,” the woman’s voice became more distant. She was leaving. No, she wasn’t leaving, Will was leaving. Adeena was pulling him backwards.

Next moment they were moving. A car? Must be a car. “What am I going to do with you Will?” Adeena sighed.

“Help,” he managed to choked out, a sob coming with it as his muscles spasmed with the pain.

“Yes. Ok. Let’s get you some medical care. You shouldn’t be running around with an injury like that. Maybe I was too hasty in taking you out of the equation. For some reason the rest of our team are quite fond of you.”

Will knew he should be doing something. But neither eye would open. Neither arm would move. He needed to tell Gracie something. He needed to run. But maybe he could do that after.

[that-angry-noldo]

… assassination attempts you say? 👀

look when you're a teler who's family was slain and you see a member of the family who was directly involved in the murder of your kin being crowned king AND you have a knife to your name you. you really want to put that knife to a good use alright. grief makes hypocrites of us all or smt idk. though i'm gonna run and take this as a fic prompt because Of Course

There was blood on his tunic, Finarfin noted distantly among the shouts and chaos. For a moment, he did nothing but watch, mesmerized, as the red stain grew in size, dark and grim and malicious, and then his gaze fell on the floor, to the sharp metal knife that lay discarded, and it was then that his mind registered the pain.

He gasped as someone hurled him back and blinked back tears as the hot pain settled in his body, and he heard someone shout was it poisoned? tell me, was it poisoned?! and then somebody else laughed, and he felt his head pounding and bile rising in his throat, and people shouting around him, and then it was dark.

Nityamaiwë grips his shoulders, stilling him. "Look," he says, nodding to something moving in the deep water, his eyes gleaming with excitement, and Arvo holds his breath. There, under their raft, is a glorious snake, white with dark strips. "See this pretty girl? Her bite will kill you in an hour."

"Ooh."

"Cool, I know. One day I'll help father and Elulindo hunt for them."

"Why would you hunt for them?"

"Poison, dummy. It's useful for hunting other fish. And also, we sell it to Oromë's servants. Didn't you know?"

Arvo blushes and says that he didn't.

He gasped and woke up.

He was covered in sweat, clothes sticking to his hot body. He didn't remember what happened, nor where he was; then his gaze fell on the ceiling, and he understood that he's in his father's chambers. The irony, he thought; to lie dying in the room of a dead man.

"He's awake," someone sighed. "Oh, thanks Eru."

"He'll live, then. The worst is already behind."

Finarfin felt cold water being pressed to his lips, and drifted away again.

There is a knife in someone's hand. Arafinwë watches it with curiosity.

He moves out of the way. It's enough to not let it deal a fatal blow, but not enough to prevent it from cutting his skin. He watches the blood flow freely from the wound.

"You weren't supposed to do that," says someone's accusatory voice, and Arafinwë blinks. Pain shots from the wound and into his body, and he watches the ring on his finger come alive, snakes creeping up his hand as he cries silently, the poison darkening his blood and vision.

No, I wasn't, he supposes; I'm sorry, he wants to add, even though his chest spasms and his mind screams "unfair", as if he was a kid wronged in a game.

-

It's loud in his chambers, and he feels the headache returning.

"It's outrageous," someone shouts. "We understand that our kin wronged them, but-"

Finarfin winces at the loud voice, but it doesn't stop. He's tired already, even though the poison is worn out of his body; his gaze travels to the window.

It's dark outside. Finarfin looks back to the ceiling.

"We shouldn't act harsh," someone else tries to negotiate. "We cannot act unwise. We'll be outmatched by Teleri alone, and Vanyar would support them in a heartbeat, and then we stand no chance."

"The Valar will take our-"

"The Valar don't care!"

The wound aches, and Finarfin feels guilt well in his being. My fault, he thinks; you should have died, someone's malicious voice whispers in his ear, and Finarfin doesn't know if it's real or a mere fruit of his imagination.

"Where do you keep them?" he hears himself saying, his being tired. The silence settles in the room immediately.

"In one of the empty chambers," they answer finally.

"Locked up," someone adds angrily. "And restrained."

Finarfin hopes there was no further abuse of power involved. He closes his eyes.

"Let them free," he orders weakly. "There's no point in further unrest."

"... what?!"

He forces himself to open his eyes and look at the people in the room. "Let them free," he repeats. "Make sure they're out of Tirion. Ol-" he swallows the name of his father-in-law and takes a breath, "the Teleri will soon know of what they did. Let them judge as they see fit."

His people argue a bit more, but, in the end, they don't disobey him. Finarfin leans back onto his pillows when the room empties.

"You're too nice for your own good," Elulindo (dead, dead, dead) murmurs, and Finarfin looks away. The snakes creep up his shoulders and disappear into the dark.

[justplainwhump]

Discipline

Follows this little piece on Rosa and Blanca. Written for Day 3 of the @bbu-on-the-side BBU Community Days.

[masterlist]

Rosa loses everything.

Content: BBU, facility whump, all female characters, forced to watch, shock collar; this is all angst and I broke my own heart.

"278017. What a disappointment."

Rosa lifted her head, tried to blink her eyes open. Her movements were slowed somehow, her vision blurred. Like swimming through syrup, she thought. Drifting through rose water.

The smell didn't match though. She didn't remember how rose water smelled exactly, or even how she'd know, but it would be a nice smell. Soft and comforting, like her dreams of a home far away.

The smell here, right now, was the clean, sharp smell of her nightmares. Of a place she'd hoped she'd left long behind. A place where she was a number instead of a name.

A place without Blanca.

Blanca.

She moved her hands, reached through the tides of sticky syrup holding her back. There was nothing besides her, neither the warmth of another body nor the soft rhythm of Blanca's breathing.

Her desperate sob broke free as a hoarse groan.

"Seventeen. Look at me when I talk to you."

She blinked again, against the too bright light, until she made out eye shape of a person looming over her. The gray of her uniform almost seemed black in the light. But Rosa knew what it truly looked like. She remembered everything about this.

It had just never hurt that much.

"B... Blanca..." she whispered.

Pain exploded at the base of her neck, electricity surging through her, cutting off her breath. Her muscles spasmed, teeth locked, body lifted by an invisible force.

"Wrong answer, 17. Disappointing again. 'Yes, Handler Kerry.' That's the only correct reply." Something bored into Rosa's side, and it took her a moment to realise it was Handler Kerry's boot. "That name you've just said; it'll never be spoken again."

Rosa followed the nudge of the foot to stare up at the handler. Handler Kerry raised an expectant brow. Rosa knew what she was meant to say. Of course she did, she wasn't stupid, even though they said she was.

She swallowed, before she met the handler's gaze.

"Blanca," she said. "Blanca, Blanca, Bl-"

The collar burst to life again; and the world exploded into pain.

It took forever until she could hear the handler's voice again, cutting through the unending cloud of agony.

"-68. 400168. The Romantic pet you're referring to. She-"

Blanca, Rosa thought. Her throat was too dry to speak. But she'd say the name in her mind then, over and over again.

"400168 is to be refurbished. A shame really. She's a good one. Knows her place. You know she's the reason your little adventure didn't work out, right? 168 was a good pet. She was loyal to her owner. Told him what you two were planning. Now it's her, she's the one getting refurbished, and resold. Shame, really. Prospective is some dude in Texas, going through his Romantics like others go through their underwear drawer."

"P-" Rosa's voice cracked. "P- please."

"Yeah, right. I know what you're thinking, 17. Should've been you, because you were the bad pet, weren't you? Your stupid little idea, to run and leave your owners behind, stealing their precious possessions. Well, let me tell you something, pet. Something about discipline."

"Dis-," Rosa breathed. "Discipline is-"

"Important for the well being of the pet, yadda yadda, yeah. Not that. Discipline is something that has to hurt. You won't get it into your tiny idiot brain otherwise. Discipline means following your rules, without exception, and discipline means there's punishment if you fail. Discipline needs punishment as a motivation."

Pain flashed up in her ribs and belatedly Rosa understood it had been a kick to her side. She winced.

"You're not motivated enough by your own pain, 17. You will be by hers."

"N- ngh, please. She-"

The handler's hand curled in the front of Rosa's plain white shirt and yanked her up.

"Your owners want you back. With all your knowledge of their household, their preferences, everything. So. No full refurb for you. No Drip. Just a refresher on your discipline. Look. Look." A sharp pull at her collar, the beep and hiss of a door opening for a handler's key card, and Rosa was pushed into another training room.

On the ground, between smears of red blood on white tiles, lay a small, curled up figure, covered in bruises, thin arms wrapped around her head, hair a tangled mess.

Rosa stumbled forward. "Bl-"

Handler Kerry's hands pressed a bit between Rosa's lips, pulled a strap taut behind her head, and the name was choked in her mouth, as Kerry held her back.

She could hear her, now. Sobs. Desperate, little sobs, a voice she knew all too well, the voice that had whispered to her every night in their little bedroom, words of solace, stories of the world outside their home, promises of a future. Now, there were only sobs. And in between, a broken question. "Why?"

Handler Kerry glared at Rosa. "Because someone else made you a bad pet, 168."

A panicked gaze flew up at them. Rosa struggled in Handler Kerry's hold, but her muscles refused to work. She tried to catch Blanca's gaze, reassure her, but Blanca's eyes were void of any recognition.

"I... I don't understand, Handler Kerry," Blanca whispered.

"You don't need to, trainee," Handler Kerry said smugly. "As long as she does."

Tears welled up in Rosa's eyes and she shook her head wildly. Blanca. Blanca. Despair broke free in a garbled sob around the bit.

Blanca flinched back. "Will... will this pet hurt me, too, Handler?"

The world spun before Rosa's eyes.

"No," Handler Kerry said. "This one will just watch. But-" With her free hand, she lifted her radio. "Bring in the Guard Dogs."

Rosa couldn't even scream.