#the worst part was when it got closer to my inner elbow and then after we had to take a short break

[trashycosmos]

i got my tattoo touched up the night before and then got my second tattoo yesterday morning and i'm so obsessed with it 😍😍😍 literally cannot wait to get color added

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 7

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k (woops the longest part yet)

Summary: You finally decide to lower your pride and talk things out with Bucky.

Warnings: SMUT IS BACK BABIES! Oral (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial, also lots of alcohol consumption, Bucky stalking you, annoying people I guess? Uhhh y’all might want to strangle me at the end lmfaooooo

A/N: I’m gonna be honest, every single time I update this I get nervous as fuck because what if this story starts to suck lmao but okay I just hope everyone’s still enjoying this story. Thank you for the continuous support like fuck??? People actually like reading my shit so I’m really flattered. Sending y’all sloppy kisses ‘cause I’m a hoe like that

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

"Uhh you might want to slow down on the drinks."

Mark was right about the bar serving the best drinks. It was actually a Mexican-themed bar which also served Tex-Mex food. The drinks were so good that the main course hasn't even arrived yet and you were already on your third frozen margarita.

"Let me have this, Mark. It's been a pretty shitty week." you told him, finishing up your drink before asking the waiter for another round.

Mark watched you with a funny look on his face, the kind that was baffled at the way you were acting now. He probably thought you were all prim and proper, given your demeanor at the office. But with the way you were stuffing your mouth with chicken quesadillas, you were far from being the department head that everybody seemed to respect.

Stress eating. That was what you were doing, because holy shit did you get on Bucky's last nerve. With the message, no, more like warning, that he sent you earlier, you might as well have your last meal before your execution.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mark carefully asked but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he watched you eat.

You hummed, mouth full of food. "Totally okay. These quesadillas are the bomb, actually."

Mark laughed, "It's good that you're enjoying the food. I'll be honest, I really appreciate that you agreed to go on this date. I mean, if you even would like to call it that." he explained, much to your relief actually.

You swallowed your food and took a sip from your glass of water, "Thank you." you told him. "Well, this can be a date. A friendly one, of course." you awkwardly chuckled.

Mark nodded, "I don't want to pressure you into anything. I guess I got a little to enthusiastic earlier and I'm really sorry for that. It's just that...you're a really interesting person and you're cool." he admitted with a charming smile.

If Bucky was out of the picture, you would have actually swooned at Mark's charm. He wasn't so bad, he was tall and handsome. He oozed a certain charm, the nice guy kind of charm and any girl would really appreciate the honesty he was showing you now.

You smiled at him, "You're pretty cool too, Mark."

-

The friendly date was very fun, you definitely didn't expect to enjoy it to the point of forgetting about Bucky's warning. Mark was a nice guy, you realized. Bucky doesn't have to worry about him because it was never even your intention to make him jealous in the first place.

By the time the dessert was being served, you were bellowing from laughter. You literally had tears in your eyes from how hard Mark was making you laugh with his hilarious stories.

Little did you know that from someone else's point of view, you looked like you were having the time of your life with Mark. Your laughter, the ease you were exuding as the both of you talked-- it was very easy to misunderstand.

Especially if that point of view belonged to none other than Bucky, who was sitting silently inside his car that was parked right across the bar.

"Oh god, I can't breathe!" you exclaimed amid your laughter, leaning back against your seat.

Mark heaved out a shy, "That was really, really embarassing." he said timidly.

Mark's phone buzzed in the middle of the conversation, his face turning into a frown as he read the message.

"Hey, everything okay?" you worriedly asked.

"It's my younger sister. I'm needed back home." he explained with a sigh.

"Is everything okay?" you asked worriedly, holding Mark's arm to comfort him.

Mark nodded, "It's fine. It's just a little family emergency." he said before offering you an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I can drop you off on the way home--"

"Hey, it's fine. You can go. I'll be fine. Your family needs you." you reassured with a smile.

Mark sighed, "I'll make it up to you next time." he said, fishing out a couple of bills from his wallet.

You walked out of the bar with Mark and bid goodbye, giving him a friendly hug before he slipped inside his car. As soon as Mark drove off, you headed back inside the bar and ordered a couple of shots because you badly needed to get Bucky off your mind.

-

Your head was pounding when you stirred awake, your throat burning and vision spinning as you opened your eyes. The light that greeted you made you hiss, pulling the covers over your head you tried to get back to your slumber.

Until you realized that the bed was soft, too soft to be your own. And when did you even own a duvet?

Slowly but surely, you sat up and looked around you, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. This was definitely not your room. Shit, did you sleep with Mark? Fuck no, you remembered him going home early due to a family emergency.

You squeezed your temples and shut your eyes, trying your best to recall everything that happened after you went back to the bar. Flashes of tequila shots and glasses of mojitos made you dizzy. Jesus christ, how many did you drink?!

And then you threw up in the streets as you attempted to walk home. Shit. Someone pulled your hair back while you puked and then there was nothing but darkness.

Pulling the duvet down, you noticed that you weren't wearing anything but a white shirt and your panties. You lifted the shirt up to your nose and sniffed it.

The scent was too memorable to forget.

"I thought you wouldn't be up until the afternoon."

You stilled at the sound of Bucky's voice and you almost didn't want to look up from your lap when he walked into his bedroom. How the hell did you end up at his place?!

"Four frozen margaritas, two shots of tequila and two tall glasses of mojito. I'm surprised you're still alive." he said as he stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

He was wearing a tight black shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. This was the most casual you'd ever seen Bucky, but also the most feral. You thought that the scowl he gave you at the elevator was the worst, apparently, this Bucky in front of you, seemed the most dangerous.

"Why am I here?" you asked softly.

Bucky rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed side table, fetching the glass of water and a bottle of painkillers that you failed to notice when you woke up.

"Drink." he commanded and waited for you to take the glass before moving back to stand at the foot of the bed.

Your eyes never left Bucky's when you popped a pill into your mouth. After drinking water, you carefully placed it back on the bedside table and exhaled heavily.

"What happened last night?" you asked again.

"Your date left you." Bucky said, matter of factly.

You snickered, "It wasn't a date and Mark didn't le--"

Your very own squeal cut your statement off when Bucky threw the duvet aside, grabbing your ankle and pulling you towards the edge of the bed until your legs were hanging off. He didn't waste any time to kneel in between your thighs, holding your neck in place as his nose brushed against yours.

Your lids fluttered at the closeness, his scent yet again invading your senses, making you lose all your inhibitions because fuck, it's been too fucking long.

"Let me have this, please..." Bucky whispered against your lips.

When you failed to respond, Bucky took it as his go signal to crash his lips against yours. You knew this was a bad idea because one taste of Bucky and you're gone and yet you let him take what he needed from you.

Because you needed him just as much. So you kissed him back fervently, your fingers carding through his hair as you tugged him closer, wanting to feel and taste all of him.

Bucky breathily chuckled when you whined as he pulled away, only to shower your neck with open-mouthed kisses which made your body buzz with need. Your head was still hurting and you felt like you were going to pass out from dizziness but fuck it, you couldn't care less. Especially not now when Bucky was now nipping at your inner thigh while his hands were spreading you wide open.

All your thoughts flew right out of the window the moment Bucky pushed your underwear aside, his mouth quickly latching over your clit. A needy, raspy moan escaped your lips when Bucky sucked your bud followed by his tongue flattening against your folds.

"Fuck, Bucky..." you breathed out, falling down on your back as he continued lapping up your pussy.

You'd almost forgotten how fucking good Bucky was with his mouth and tongue. You elicited another whimper when he pulled back, but only to stand up and pull down his sweatpants, revealing his cock-- already hard and weeping with pre-cum.

In one swift motion, Bucky slid into your cunt. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your moans as you adjusted to his size. With how your pussy was clenching down on his cock, you realized that indeed, it's been too fucking long.

Bucky moved slow at first, letting you adjust to him before he began to speed up his thrusts. His breathing was erratic, soft grunts and growls reverberating from his chest as he fucked you. You gripped his forearms when he started pistoling his hips into yours, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

"Want you to watch me fuck you." he growled, pulling you up to lean against your elbows.

Bucky held your neck with both his hands, forcing you to look down at your pussy while his cock slides in and out of it. Your face scrunched into pleasure, your mouth open as moans and whimpers continued to escape past your lips.

"Keep your eyes on my cock, see how your pussy takes all of it." Bucky demanded as he fucked you relentlessly.

Your thighs began to tremble, your entire body thrumming from pleasure. You tried to keep your eyes open as you watched Bucky fuck you fast and hard. Clawing at his biceps, you held on for dear life when you felt yourself teeter at the edge of your climax.

"Gonna cum, Bucky..." you moaned as your eyelids fluttered.

Bucky kissed your hard, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth before tugging at it. He pressed a soft kiss beneath your ear, licking at your skin before sucking your earlobe.

"Remember this when that Marcus fails to fuck you real good." he whispered and then pulled out just before you could even cum.

You blinked, unable to process what just happened. Bucky stood up and pulled his sweatpants back up. He rubbed his chin angrily before turning to you.

"You really blew me off to be with a guy who left you at the bar." he said.

Bucky really seduced you, fucked you raw only to edge you and deny you of your fucking orgasm. And now he was reprimanding you? While your legs were spread, panties pushed aside and your wet pussy out there for the world to see. You quickly adjusted your underwear, pulled your shirt down and sat up.

"What the fuck, Bucky?" you hissed. "First of all, his name is Mark. Second, he didn't leave me at the bar!" you exclaimed before you realized something.

"Wait, how did you know?" you asked, finally realizing that Bucky seemed to know everything that took place last night. "Bucky, did you follow me at the bar? Is this why I'm here?" you asked, standing up to come face to face with him.

Bucky shrugged, "So what if I did? If I didn't, you'd wake up in the streets, in your own vomit because again, you went for a guy who couldn't even bring her girl home. You should actually thank me." he said.

"Thank you!" you yelled. "I appreciate you bringing me back to your place. I really do." you said, calmly this time. "But can you please not bring Mark into this because he's a nice guy." you explained, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

Bucky snorted, "You call that nice? He left you!" he said again.

"He didn't! There was an emergency, for fuck's sake! He needed to go home and I said I can take care of myself." you said. "I shouldn't even be explaining myself to you yet I am because you're being really irrational right now." you scolded Bucky.

Bucky shook his head, "You really expect me to believe you? I saw how you laughed with him, how carefree you looked when you talked. How you caressed his arm and you're asking me not to bring Mickey into this conversation?"

You hid your face into your palms, "It wasn't a date, Bucky. We both made it clear. And he's a good person, I enjoyed talking to him. That's it. And again, it's Mark." you said through gritted teeth.

"Not a date my ass, you were flirting with him." Bucky accused.

You scoffed, "I wasn't flirting with him! I was casually talking to him like how a friend would! How hard is that to understand, Bucky?!" you exclaimed.

"You were never like that with me!"

"It's because we did nothing but fuck each other, Bucky!"

"That's why I wanted to make it official but you said no!"

"I already told you the reason why!"

"And yet you went out with a co-worker!"

"We're not just co-workers, Bucky. You're my fucking boss! The fucking CEO! How many times do I have to...you know what, it's useless for me to even explain it again to you." you said.

Bucky chuckled bitterly, "You're going to regret this." he said with a sinister smirk.

"Why can't you understand where I'm coming from?" you asked exasperatedly.

"Maybe because you won't let me help you." he said confidently. "And you know what I hate the most about this thing we have? It's that you want me too but you're too stubborn to give in. And you know what? I'll make sure you do." Bucky said, towering over you and staring deeply in your eyes.

"What I want, I always get."

-

The weekend passed by like a blur-- a huge, messy blur that made your head and heart hurt. You wanted to spend the weekend to ponder on things, to forget about Bucky even for just a while and now that was impossible after everything that happened.

You caved in first, that was for sure. And the thing is, you don't even regret it but then Bucky exploded and now everything seemed to have gotten worse. You understood why he was so mad at Mark, poor guy though, but he wouldn't even listen to you when you said that the date wasn't even a legitimate one!

"What the fuck did I get myself into?" you uttered under your breath as you sat in your car in the parking.

You began to analyze the situation you were in and drew out possible solutions to your dilemma. Nothing a good conversation can't solve, right? So maybe talking things out with Bucky properly would make things right. The previous conversations you had with him were always too emotional with both your egos getting in the way.

Alright fine, you'd tone down your pride for Bucky this time around and tell him that you do want to be with him. It's just that the repercussions scared the living daylights out of you.

You can't afford to lose your job nor everyone's respect. So if you were going to do this with Bucky, he has to understand that he has to be really careful. Everything must be done in secret, for the meantime at least.

"That sounds about right." you sighed, feeling hopeful that this might actually work out.

The shift in your mood gave you a little bounce as you walked into the building. You were confident that maybe Bucky was able to calm down over the weekend. Perhaps today was a good day to have a decent talk with him.

As soon as you reached your floor, you hurriedly went to your cubicle to drop your things. The earlier you get to talk to Bucky, the better. So as soon as you were done, you jogged back to the elevator excitedly, unable to notice how everyone seemed to be preoccupied gossiping about something.

Your heart was pounding as you walked along the corridor leading to Bucky's office. Fuck, you were really going to risk it all for one Bucky Barnes. You were a few steps away from the door, ready to reach for the knob when an unfamiliar voice called your attention.

"I'm sorry?" you asked, turning around.

"Sir James said not to let anyone disturb him right now." you were met with the presence of a blonde girl who looked younger than you, an intern maybe?

You nodded but then spared another glance at Bucky's office. "Yeah, I uhh need to talk to him. It's usually not a problem for me to barge into his office." you explained with a soft chuckle.

The girl made a face, "I'm sorry, but I'm just following Sir James' orders." she explained, walking around the desk near Bucky's office.

"I don't think we've met. Are you an intern?" you asked, trying to be as nice as much as possible.

The girl giggled, straight on giggled cutely and stood up again. She excitedly extended an arm for an overly eager handshake, "I'm Beverly. I'm Sir James' secretary. It's my first job!"

You blinked, "Oh...oh uh what happened to Amelie?" you asked, curious about Bucky's previous secretary.

Beverly tilted her head, "I don't know. I just got a call over the weekend from Sir James, offering me the job so I accepted it. I mean, he is pretty cute. Right?" she said in a soft voice.

Is this Bucky's plan? To hire a younger, more bubbly secretary who'd follow his every order? Someone who was the complete opposite of you? Because if this was his plan to get you to cave, it wasn't working. At all.

Sure, Beverly was pretty and young and very chirpy. But you were sure she wasn't Bucky's type. He was never into obedient little girls, hell, your defiance turned Bucky on. This was definitely not working.

You didn't know why, but instead of relief you felt even more nervous. Because if this wasn't Bucky's threat to you, what could it be? You snapped out of your pessimism, maybe Bucky came around over the weekend too?

Only one way to find out.

"Beverly..." you carefully said. "I'm just going to go inside. And don't worry, I'll make sure that Mister Barnes won't get mad at you. This is all me, alright?" you reassured.

Beverly pouted and sighed, "I don't know, because he was very clear with his instructions. And he's talking to--"

"I got you, Bev. I'm going in now." you said, cutting her off and then going straight for Bucky's office.

Taking in a deep breath, you pushed the door open and wasted no time to talk.

"Hey, I really need to talk to you. I thought about--"

"Oh, who's this little lady?"

Your eyes widened upon seeing Bucky in the company of another woman. She looked like she was around your age, except that she was taller and had legs for days. Her brunette hair reached past her shoulders in lovely waves. She was wearing a white chiffon blouse paired with a pair of black trousers and matching stilettos.

She oozed the charm of a lady boss. The way she carried herself reminded you of someone but you just couldn't point out who it was.

"I'm sorry to interrupt." you said, straightening up and turning to look over at Bucky who lifted a brow at you.

That fucking look of mischief.

"I told Beverly not to let anyone in." he said.

"I just wanted to--"

"Oh come on now, Bucky. Don't be so grumpy this early, you were about to call everyone for a meeting anyway." the woman said, turning to you with a smile.

Did she just call him...Bucky?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Bucky rolled his eyes and sighed, "Yeah, well you're already here might as well introduce you first."

You narrowed your eyes at Bucky in confusion, "I don't understand what's going on." you said.

Bucky stood up from his chair and walked over to the other woman, standing beside her. Seeing them side by side was making you feel things. You haven't even seen them interact that much but you were already sensing that you were going to hate their dynamics.

"This is Mackenzie. I hired her to help us out on a huge project which I will be discussing with the entire team this morning." Bucky introduced a little too proudly for your liking.

Mackenzie offered her hand, "You can just call me Kenzie. I'm a marketing consultant. And you are?" she asked.

Your blood boiled, your eye twitched and your heart ached. Because now you realized who it was that Mackenzie reminded you of when it came to her charisma.

You.

And not only did she have a similar personality to yours-- confident and had authority-- but she also seemed to be here to take the one thing you worked so hard for.

You offered a smile, taking Mackenzie's hand in yours as you mentioned your name, your piercing eyes glancing over at Bucky.

"I'm the head of marketing."

-

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag​ @weird-mumbling​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @mostly-marvel-musings​ @squishybabies​ @megzdoodle​ @suchababie​ @annathesillyfriend​ @xhollycowx​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @gogolucky13​ @countonthesun​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @learisa​ @borikenlove​ @scarlet-natasha89​

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii​ @jessou893​ @stealapizzamyheart​ @bagelofthelord​ @mxnt​ @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky​ @ohladymacbeth​ @wildflowergubler​ @supraveng​ @twinerd14​ @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3​ @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm​ @charminivy​ @amelia-song-pond​ @iamvalentinaconstanza​ @mcubqrnes @im-squished​ @tcc-gizmachine​ @sipsteacasually​ @prettyintopeerpressure​ @weloveyasmin​ @est19xxshit​ @bloodhon3yx​ @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @thatfangirl42​ @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24​ @sugarpunch-princess​ @enlyume​ @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp​ @lyoongx​ @just-deka​ @nobody-will​ @jaziona92 @elisebuitron​ @dpaccione​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x​ @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts​ @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni​ @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky​

[dreamingofaizawa]

Potent

Alpha! Hanta Sero x Fem! Omega! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18 please vacate the premises.

Warnings: A/B/O, smut, knotting, marking, breeding kink (sorta? idk it comes with the A/B/O territory), a hint of pregnancy kink, a bit of blood

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author's Note: Ohhhhkaayyy so this has been sitting in my google doc for AGES. I think I started this in...October of last year? It's been sitting there for months and I've lacked the motivation to finish and post it but then I sent in an anon ask to @reinawritesbnha and, being the absolute queen she is, she became the little push I needed to do it. I DID IT FOR REINA!!

Also, this is some of my earliest writing and I only skimmed and edited a little bit of it so if there's a little bit of weird pacing or a strange cutoff where the writing styles clash it's because I haven't touched this piece in months.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

It had to happen when you were surrounded by alphas.

Your suppressants flaked out, again, and your scent wafted through the air on the street. Normally It’d be fine for an omega to let their scent float freely around them. But your scent is particularly...potent, even when you weren’t in heat. Not only that, but you weren’t mated yet, your scent glands still bare, and you still didn’t have a pack. To make matters worse, you’re quirkless.

You hadn’t realised what was happening until your path was blocked by an especially large male alpha. You turned around, and there were two more behind you. Fuck. This isn’t good. You took in your surroundings and searched for an exit, but you couldn’t find a way out. There's no way you’d be able to outrun the three very large male alphas.

Probably the worst part is that more alphas are turning their head toward you, taking notice of your lavender honey and rain scent that slowly began turning to a sour swamp. You dared to hope that change would ward off the three cornering you, but they’d already got a whiff of you. Several distressed chirps sounded from your chest, voicing your discomfort, and you glared pointedly at the three alphas as they edged closer to you.

You hate when this happened. Why’d you have to be cursed like this? Your growls only grew, baring your little omega fangs. There’s no way in hell you’d let some stranger scent you, let alone one of these creeps. They wouldn’t take the damn hint and just crept closer to you, calling out to the ‘pretty little omega’ to ‘come have some fun’.

You’re scared now, the involuntary chirps in your chest coming more frequently. None of the other alphas or betas on the street were big enough to face the three, making you a sitting duck and a ragdoll if they wanted you to be. Your claws are small, nowhere near ideal for this situation, but you’d use them if you needed to. With a final low defiant growl you dropped your bag against the wall behind you and readied yourself for a fight.

Suddenly a large body dropped in front of you, his back to you. His scent alone hit you like a freight train, orange zest, mint, tree bark and something earthy. It had your head spinning, nearly sending you into an early heat. He growled, low and powerful, the sound rattling in your chest and making you sink further into the wall behind you. The other three alpha’s scents together were still overpowered by the new alpha before you, and they vanished faster than they appeared.

He turned around and stepped away from you, giving you space to breathe. He kneeled down enough so he was eye level with you, his hands reaching out clearly in an attempt to comfort you, but kept from touching you.

“Are you okay?” The question barely registered, still delirious from his scent, and you’re having a hard time recovering. Large hands grip your shoulders and shake you lightly, your mind beginning to clear with the soothing pheromones he’s releasing.

“Omega.” The command snapped you to attention, your gaze fixated on his own dark irises.

“Are you okay, omega?” You blink, swallow down the lump in your throat, take a deep breath.

“Yeah...I’m okay. Thank you, alpha.” But you’re not quite okay. You need to get home. Fast. The alpha seemed to catch on, probably by your scent that still hadn’t returned to normal. He stands and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping you in his scent. It’s a comforting gesture.

“Let’s get you home.” With a nod you set off, the man walking next to you with a strong, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“What’s your name?” You introduce yourself, and he does the same. His name is Sero Hanta, and now that you’re calm again, you take in just how handsome he is.

Raven hair is pulled back into a small bun, showing off his undercut and strong, sharp jawline. Onyx eyes shine with kindness and playful mischief, and a beaming grin reveals pearly white teeth. He’s incredibly toned, his muscles calmly rippling under the t-shirt that stretched over his chest. You vaguely noticed the strange shape of his elbows, but disregarded it as his quirk. The omega in you is howling, begging for this alpha, his scent invading your senses. But you suppress it quickly, reminding yourself you’d only just met this man.

As you reach your apartment you exchange phone numbers, and he tells you to keep the jacket and use it when you go out to ward off any unwanted attention. You thank him again for helping you earlier, and he waves to you as he walks down the hall and enters the elevator, the doors closing in front of his handsome smiling face.

Despite meeting him only ten minutes earlier your instincts trust the alpha, and you hold the jacket close to your face, breathing in his scent. It’s wonderful, and your inner omega is in love. You find yourself wondering when you’d see him again.

The next few days are riddled with work and calls to your doctor about the strength of your suppressants. You work from home as a secretary for a small company. It’s a miracle you’d found it, too. Nobody wants an omega, let alone a potent one. It’s an alpha’s world, you guess. When this job opening popped up you were ecstatic, so you took it and have been working from home with decent pay for the last five years.

The calls to your doctor were not going as smoothly as your job, though. You leave a message every four hours until she finally calls you back. She was concerned since the suppressants she’d prescribed are the strongest out there, and if your scent was overpowering them they were either defective or your scent glands were overproducing. It wasn’t an immediate threat to your health, it only meant you’d be drawing more attention than you wanted to. Still, it’s annoying and makes life so much harder than it needs to be.

After she prescribed twice the amount, she said she’d look over your tests from the latest visit before she hung up the phone. You groaned once the call ended. You seriously needed a break from your second gender. Taking the prescribed double dose of suppressants, you got ready to go out to the corner cafe to read and drink coffee. Hopefully the new amount will keep steady. You really don’t want to deal with any more aggressive alphas this week. For good measure you pull on Sero’s jacket, allowing his scent to cover you, then grab your keys, phone, wallet and a book and begin the walk.

When you arrive at the cafe you order a hot mocha, curl into the small corner booth and crack open the book. You got lost in the ink and your mind floated along the adventure, putting yourself in the shoes of the main character and leading the mission to take down the corrupt queen who’d framed you for killing the prince of a neighboring kingdom. You were ripped from the fantasy world when a bright, enthusiastic blonde came up and tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. His smile was as bright as his hair.

“Sorry to scare you cutie, but I couldn’t help but notice that jacket of yours smells an awful lot like my friend Sero!” You smile softly at the blonde.

“Well if we’re talking about the same Sero Hanta, then your nose would be correct. This is his jacket.” His eyes widen as he nods.

“Oh my gosh you must be the omega he keeps talk-” The blonde’s words became muffled by a large hand. A hand that belonged to the very man you were talking about. Sero smiles apologetically down at you as he shoves the blonde back to where you assume they’re sitting.

“Sorry about Kami, he’s… extroverted.” You smile back at him, mostly because you’re happy to see him again.

“It’s no problem at all. He recognized your scent on me.” He looked down and only then realized you’re wearing his jacket, and he beams at you. Then he takes a glance at the booth you’re sitting all alone at, his smile falling just a bit.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” You take a moment to think about the offer, then agree with a nod. Your omega couldn’t pass up more time with him.

As you approach the booth you notice there are more people with Sero than you anticipated. There were four other people sitting there. Sero introduced all of them from left to right. Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Ashido Mina, and the happy blonde from earlier is Kaminari Denki. You introduce yourself and when Sero slid into the booth, you followed after him.

These five are a tight pack, and you learn they all met in high school. Bakugo’s brash personality made you wary at first, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s just like that with everyone. He makes a bit of a snippy remark, which you easily counter, and he smirks while the rest smile or snicker. It would seem they like you.

You can’t tell what their second genders are, and you mentally kick yourself for even wondering in the first place. Their genders are none of your concern, but you can’t blame yourself when you’re constantly alert because of your own stupid second gender. As it turns out, you don’t need to wait very long to find out.

This time you smell your own scent as it permeates the air around you. You swear under your breath at the stupid suppressants that obviously can’t so their job, and the others snap their gazes to you. You sigh.

“Yeah, that scent is me. My suppressants flaked again. Sorry about that.” They all nodded, seemingly understanding. Sero must have told them about the other day. Of course, it would soon repeat. It didn’t take long for an alpha to take notice of your scent. The man -- why is it always the largest males??? -- strides up to the booth with a cocksure grin and leans down to inhale your scent. You duck away from him, into Sero, and let out an albeit small warning growl that was drowned in Sero and Kirishima’s. He ignored them all the same.

“Hey there little omega, you smell real nice. You wanna come hang with me instead? We can have some fun together with my buddies, what do you say?” The others stayed quiet. They’re going to let you defend yourself before they do anything in case they end up escalating the situation. You turn your head and lift your shoulder, hiding your scent gland.

“I’m not interested, thank you. Please leave me alone.” You hoped to whatever deity watched over you that the man would leave. Before anyone could react the alpha grabbed your wrist in a vice grip, yanking you roughly from your seat. You chirp, your scent turning sour and the entire pack abruptly stands, baring their fangs at the man. It barely registered in your head that Kirishima and Bakugo are alphas, Mina is a beta, and Kaminari is an omega, their fangs giving them away.

The man tightens his grip on your wrist and you cry out, your bones creaking under the pressure. With no other options you did the one thing that would get him to let go, and sank your fangs into his wrist. You jump back into Sero, who wraps an arm around you protectively.

“You bit me, you bitch!” He raises an arm, clearly about to try and hit you, but a large hand grabs his wrist. Surprisingly enough it’s Bakugo, and his growl is laced into his words.

“Leave now, or you lose a hand.” Sero speaks up from above you.

“You might wanna listen, amigo. That’s Dynamight.” The alpha rips his arm from Bakugo’s hold and looks down at you, and you growl at him as he scoffs and walks away, apparently not ready to fight the #2 pro hero over an omega.

You all sit back down and you pull up the sleeve of the jacket to inspect the already forming bruise on your wrist. Your nose wrinkles with a half-angry half-pained snarl. Tenderly, Sero takes your wrist and lightly squeezes the sides of your forearm, against your bones, and your lack of reaction tells him nothing’s broken. Still, he growls at the offending bruise.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You shake your head and put a hand over his.

“It’s not worth it Sero. He’s probably long gone.” You turn to the rest of the pack.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Kirishima is the first to speak.

“Of course! That dude was a jerk. I just hope he doesn’t go around doing that to other omegas.” Bakugo, surprisingly, spoke next.

“Obviously we’d protect you. You’re a potent omega and quirkless, so you attract unwanted attention without even knowing or wanting to. Besides, if you’re gonna be Sero’s omega there’s no way in hell we’d let some extra handle you like that.” The implications make your face burn, and Kirishima smacks the blonde’s arm with a ‘Don’t just say that kind of thing, Katsuki.’

After an hour or two of talking, and shockingly no other aggressive alphas, they all walk you home to your apartment. Sero wanted to check on your wrist again, so you invited them all in, but they all had something else to do, so you were left alone with Sero. The fact that the one alpha you desperately wanted to be around is alone with you in your apartment is both great and terrible. Thankfully, you have self-control and his own suppressants are working perfectly fine.

He inspected the darkening bruise on your wrist, his large hands gripping your arm tenderly and turning it gently as he prods at the skin. It doesn’t hurt too bad, so you assure him you’ll be perfectly fine. Eventually he leaves with a hug and you sigh once the door is closed, relieved that you were able to keep your omega at bay and your hands to yourself.

A couple days later you get a text from him and the two of you text often, asking how each other’s day went, if anything interesting had happened. You didn’t leave your apartment unless you needed to, since your suppressants clearly weren’t working, so you made sure to cut grocery trips short and keep away from any alphas that seemed a bit aggressive. Sero invited you to hang out with the pack at their house, and you obliged.

They lived in a huge house all together. Most of the rooms were sealed so no scents or sounds could go in or out for ruts and heats, and there were several spare rooms that were empty and waiting for more pack members. It was a fun hangout, filled with video games and good conversation, and even better food which Bakugo cooked. Sero had an arm around you whenever he was close, and you definitely didn’t mind. Your suppressants flaked in the middle, again, and Sero insisted he walk you home. With him walking you home there weren’t any alphas trying to get you this time. You ended up going over to hang out with them a lot when you weren’t working, and eventually Sero began to court you.

Obviously, you accepted, and after a few months of dating and scenting, your overactive scent glands seemed to mellow out, Sero’s scent mixing with it. Your suppressants are lasting much longer now, which is a good sign. Now that you’re Sero’s omega, he often helped you with your heats and you’d help him with his ruts, and he was strong-willed enough that he hadn’t marked or knotted you in the middle of things.

About a year and a half into the relationship you realize you really love him. Sure you had arguments, but everything was settled through calmed discussions over coffee or tea, and you came to understand each other well enough that arguments became few and far between.

You’re happy with Sero, so when your heat came around early and he was there to help, you were going to let him know just how much you loved him.

You texted him once you felt it starting. He was there within half an hour, and you pounced on him once the font door closed, smothering him in hot, wet kisses, eager to feel him inside you. He carries you to the bedroom, and you two are quick in shedding all of your clothes. He lays you on your back with a hand on your throat as he growls into your ear, making a hot shudder roll down your spine.

“Are you ready for me omega?” You whine and nod, your slick already dripping down your folds. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Please alpha, I need your cock.” He growls again, satisfied with your answer, and he presses into you, bottoming out with one firm thrust. You chant his name like a mantra as he set a bruising pace, rutting into you recklessly, wet skin slapping on skin the only other sound beside your whimpers and his growls. His teeth nip at your shoulder, sharp fangs testing your skin and claws digging into the fat of your hips. His cock is so deep, hot swollen tip kissing your cervix with every full-bodied thrust and sending you into a euphoric haze. Your own claws are sinking into his back, leaving little trails of red and blood beading down the lines. It drives him wild every time.

“That’s right, little omega. Mark me up, I’m all yours. Fuck you’re so pretty underneath me like this.” His hands grip behind your knees and press them into your chest, folding you nearly in half as he plows into you further. The angle knocks the breath from your lungs and your eyes roll back. You can feel his knot beginning to swell, feel how his thrusts are getting more controlled and his grip on your thighs tighten from the sheer concentration it’s taking for him not to breed you. You have other plans. Between wheezed breaths you squeak out.

“H-hantaaa~” He slows to a near snail’s pace, grinding his slowly growing cock into your sweet spot, a smirk stretching across his face as you splutter from the sudden change. He’s enjoying making you squirm.

“What is it, sweetness? Tell your alpha what you need.” You pant, chest heaving as much as the position will allow.

“Want your mark, want your knot~ Wanna be bred Hanta! I want your pups!” He stills completely, claws digging into the fat of your thighs with enough force to have drops of blood falling to the sheets beneath you. You’d never said anything like that in the heat of the moment. He can’t have heard you correctly...right?

“Princesa, do you know what you just said?” The seriousness in his tone has you sobering, but even before you knew exactly what you were saying. You nod frantically, wiggling your hips to get him to move again.

“Yes! I know alpha! Please, give me your knot~” His growl makes your bones shake, and with no warning he drops your legs around his waist and leans down so his face is buried in your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna trust you with this baby girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His fangs sink into your scent gland just as he picks up his brutal pace, and the euphoria makes you cum hard, your whole body locking up and mouth falling open in a silent scream. He plows into you as you regain your breath, and you bite down on his own scent gland as hard as you can, tearing into his skin with every intention of leaving a pretty scar for the world to see.

His knot swells more, and he’s pushing it into you with every ounce of power he can generate with that gorgeous body of his. With one final snap of his hips he locks his body to yours and cums hard, ropes of hot seed filling you to the brim. He collapses on top of you and laps at the wound on your neck and you do the same. After a few minutes he leans back and cups your face in his hand, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Are you alright?” You nod, nuzzling into his palm.

“I’m sorry. I was gonna talk to you about it, but my heat came early.” He kisses your forehead gently, brushing the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s okay, pretty thing. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him.

“Of course I do. I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you too.” You lay there, tangled in each other’s arms until his knot goes down. You whine at the loss when his cock slips out of you, clawing at him to come back because you’re still in heat. His hand gently wraps around your neck, a low chuckle on his lips.

“Relax, we’re far from done.” His already hard erection rubs up and down your glistening folds, barely stimulating your clit, teasing you until tears prick your eyes and you’re beggin him to fuck you again.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna breed you so well, You’re gonna look so pretty all big and round with my pups.” He groans at the image he’d conjured in his head and you squeal as he slams his hips into you.

You’re in for a wonderfully long night.

[iam93percentstardust]

For your bday prompt thing: stuckony, Tony has to take care of his partners after they get drunk for the first time in 70+ years.

Also, happy belated bday!!!

Thank you, nonnie! I hope you like this story! It was my first time writing something like this and I had a lot of fun working on it!

As always, everything that I write is on ao3 but I’m not providing the link because tumblr hates links

~

Tony would just like everyone to know that he said the Asgardian mead was a bad idea.

He said it, he did, and tomorrow morning, he’ll get to say I told you so.

Today, however, he has a very handsy Bucky and a very affectionate Steve to deal with, and he’s not sure which one is worse.

Bucky’s hand creeps towards his inner thigh for the fifth time in ten minutes and for the fifth time in ten minutes, Tony firmly removes it, placing it back in Bucky’s lap. “Nope,” he says, ignoring the laughter in Natasha’s eyes as she watches the three of them. “No, we’re not doing that.”

Bucky gives him a very pathetic pout that absolutely does not make Tony melt. “I just wanna touch it a little.”

“And I would like to not wake up with regrets tomorrow morning so hands to yourself.”

“I wouldn’t regret it,” Bucky grumbles, hands starting to wander again.

Tony sighs and firmly holds both of Bucky’s in his, keeping them right where he can see them. “I know you wouldn’t,” he says tiredly. How much mead had Thor given them? It’s been three hours, shouldn’t they be at least starting to sober up? “But I would.”

There’s a low whining sound from his left side. Tony groans and turns to Steve, who lays his head on his shoulder and blinks up at him with those big blue eyes. “You would regret us?” Steve asks sadly, mouth turned down at the corners.

Tony leans forward and drops a quick kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Yep. Drunken consent still isn’t consent even when we’re dating, and even if you both really, really want it, I like my partners to at least remember what we did.”

“I wouldn’t forget you,” Steve murmurs. “I love you.”

The words have been said before but not nearly frequently enough for Tony’s breath to keep from hitching. It still sends a thrill through his body every time he hears it. How could it not? There’d been a long time there when he’d thought he would never have anyone who would love him, and now he has two people.

“I—” he starts to say, but Steve puts a finger on his lips, shushing him.

“I especially love your eyes,” he says dreamily and reaches up to pet them, closing Tony’s eyes as he does.

“I know, babe.” And he does. Steve compliments him on his eyes all the time.

“They’re like dirt.”

Well, that’s a new one. Usually, Tony gets that they’re like whiskey, or when Steve’s in a particularly happy mood, like Bambi. Natasha nearly chokes on her laughter as Tony’s mouth twists.

“Great,” he says dryly. Bucky tugs his hands from Tony’s, who only barely notices. “Thanks, babe. A+ compliment there.”

“Dirt makes things grow,” Steve informs him solemnly.

“That they do,” he agrees, throwing Natasha a dirty look as she continues to snicker. Fuck, where’s the rest of the team when he needs them? How did he miss them all heading off to bed while he was trying to wrangle Steve and Bucky and stop them from drinking the entire contents of the barrel Thor brought back from Asgard?

“So it’s good that your eyes are like dirt.”

“Could be worse,” Natasha says. “He could have said your eyes are like manure.”

Steve’s eyes light up and Tony claps a hand over his mouth to keep him from saying that. He doesn’t think he could stand it. There are a lot of things he’s been compared to in his life, and many of them have been bad, but that would definitely be one of the worst.

“Don’t give him any ideas,” he grumbles and then yelps when Bucky’s hand lands squarely on his dick.

“James!” he hisses, scandalized. He twists in his seat, away from Bucky’s wandering hands, even if that means moving closer to Steve, who promptly latches onto him like a limpet. What is this world coming to that Tony, of all people, is horrified by some light exhibitionism? He thinks about burying his head in his hands and groaning but decides against it. There’s no telling what Bucky would do if Tony took his eyes off of him.

“Okay,” he says abruptly and stands up, dislodging Steve. “You know what? I had high hopes that we’d be able to sober up down here but that’s definitely not going to happen so we’re going to bed.”

“Together?” Bucky asks, waggling his eyebrows. It’s normally a very effective strategy, but tonight he’s too loose to look anything other than ridiculous. Tony bites back a laugh.

No encouragement.

Stand your ground, Stark.

…Even if it’s really tempting.

“Nope,” he says, popping the p. He rocks back on his heels. “You two are going to go to bed and I am going to sleep with Natasha.”

It’s the least she can do for laughing at his misfortune all evening. And besides, it’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before. Most of the team have shared a bed at one point or another. It’s a great way to deal with the nightmares they all have. And Nat’s scary enough that even Bucky won’t dare argue with her, especially once she nods and slides her hand through the crook of his elbow.

“I’d love to have you over tonight,” she says in that sly tone that means she’s rubbing this in Bucky’s face. He sighs. When did his life get so complicated? What did he do in a past life that was so bad he now has to deal with petty spies and assassins with roaming hands?

“Nat, stop teasing Bucky,” he orders. “Bucky, keep your hands to yourself. And Steve, just—” Steve gives him the biggest puppy dog eyes. Tony regrets every single time he’s ever told Steve how effective those are. “Never mind. Bed. You two are going and what you get up to once you’re there is none of my concern.”

“It could be,” Bucky says with another one of those eyebrow wiggles.

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, not impressed. “Darling, you’re so drunk you’re nearly falling over. I’d be surprised if you can even get it up.”

“Oh doll, I can always get it up for you.”

“Charming,” he says flatly.

Steve slides his hand into Tony’s free one, interlacing their fingers and swinging them, happy as a clam. Tony glances over at him and opens his mouth to say something, what he’s not sure. It’s not like this is nearly as much of a problem as Bucky’s leering is; it’s just a little awkward. Before he can say anything, Steve beams at him and lifts their joined hands up so he can press a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s. Tony shuts his mouth again and tries not to blush.

After a moment, he says, “Nat, can you take Bucky upstairs if I’ve got Steve?”

She nods. “Let’s go,  Джеймс.”

Bucky pouts but obediently follows her to the elevator. Once they’re gone, Tony turns to Steve, who promptly wraps him up in a hug. “Were we really that bad tonight?” Steve mumbles, voice muffled by Tony’s hair.

He wants to say yes, wants it to never happen again because tonight was awkward-with-a-capital-A, but he thinks of all the times Rhodey and Pepper have had to wrangle him when he had too much to drink. “Worse things have happened,” he tells him instead and nudges Steve’s jaw up so he can kiss him in that sensitive spot right under his chin.

“Good,” Steve says and finally—finally—he sounds sleepy. “I never want to cause you problems.”

Tony smiles fondly. He knows they don’t. That’s why he finds it impossible to stay mad at them when they do things like this. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you upstairs before you become deadweight.”

“You’d have to get the suit to move me,” Steve says drowsily, stumbling along with Tony as they head for the elevators.

“That’s very true.”

Natasha is already gone by the time he gets Steve into their bedroom, and fortunately, Bucky is already asleep, snoring softly as he lies facedown on the bed. “Small miracles,” Tony mutters, shoving Steve in the direction of the bathroom.

He helps Steve out of his clothes, decides against a shower—they’ve tried sleepy Steve in the shower before and it never turns out well—and eventually gets his teeth brushed. By that point, Steve is all but swaying on his feet so it’s no effort at all to get him tucked into bed beside Bucky, who must know on some subconscious level that it’s Steve next to him because he rolls over and wraps himself around Steve like he’s part octopus.

Tony smiles at the sight of them and pulls his phone out to take a quick picture before he grabs a couple things and then heads down to Nat’s floor. She’s also already in bed by the time he gets there, but she’s leaning up against the headboard, reading a book.

“Thanks,” he says wearily as he drags himself into her bathroom.

“You owe me,” she says simply. “Besides, it was easy once he realized you weren’t there. Just had to promise him you’d be coming up soon.”

“You’re a genius.” He stumbles back out of the bathroom and faceplants on the bed, burying his face into her hip. “Fuck, that was exhausting. Was I ever that bad when you were working for me? No, don’t answer that. I think we all remember that party.”

She laughs and cards her fingers through his hair. “You did well, котенок.” She pauses. “But I still took pictures.”

“…I hate you.”

[all-about-seggs]

Birthday Smash -

Rating: 18+, Mature

Pairing : Timeskip! Birthday boy Kuroo x female reader.

Word count: 1.5 k

Warning's: Smut, Birthday sex, Thigh riding, face riding, blow job ( could be considered as bit of somnophilia but I'm not sure, everything is consentual tho), established relationship, the reader is on top but Kuroo still doms.

You gazed at your wrist one more time before pushing the key card into the overpriced hotel suite your boyfriend was staying at. It was quarter to twelve, just fifteen minutes until his birthday. Even though you both were at the point of your relationship where you didn't have to make grand gestures for every occasion, you wanted to help him relax atleast on his special day.

Entering with a soft click, not wanting to be found out, you looked around the place, it was oddly romantic, the bedroom was seperate from the living space, most of the furniture having classy beige themes, beside the main couch, there was a little round table lined with scented candles. Atleast now you knew this place wasn't Kuroo's pick, although his company was the one providing for his lodgings, you still expected more of a business casual look but you didn't have time to complain considering you still had a surprise to pull off.

The last time you called Kuroo today was just after dinner, so if he wasn't working right now, he would most likely be either taking a bath or on his way to bed and both of the options gave you a good opportunity to ambush him. Putting your stuff on the nearby chair, you tiptoed your way into the bedroom to see your tired boyfriend stretched out in the huge king sized bed on the riser with two steps leading up to it.

His toned body peeking out from beneath his disheveled bathrobe ,indicating he just came from his bath. The large fluffy pillows, crisp white sheets and the light coming from the floor to ceiling windows next to the bed gave the room a picturesque view. He seemed half asleep, so you approached him carefully, now that you got a closer look you realised he wasn't wearing any underpants. You were going to wake him up anyway and the opportunity to make it the best wake up call just presented itself, dangling right in front of you, so it was in your best interest to grab it.

He was lying on his back, a position he only started to use after the two of you began dating, so that you could cuddle a little before sleeping. You crawled on the opposite side of the bed, slowly making you way towards his exposed legs, deciding it's best to just kneel beside him than over him. You pushed the last piece of the bathrobe covering his cock aside and started giving his tip small kitten licks. You wondered if would freak out, thinking you're some random women or maybe he wouldn't even wake up, thinking he's dreaming because let's face it, Kuroo can be a dork sometimes despite his natural cunning.

His previously soft member started to swell by the time you grabbed his shaft, stroking it gently. You didn't want him to wake up just yet, atleast not until he was throbbing in your mouth, his sleepy face just on the verge of cumming was a sight you wanted to see, but it's physically difficult for anyone to keep sleeping when they have someone mouth on their crotch so his legs soon started twitching. You lifted your head to check his face but his eyes were still closed, boy were gonna get teased like hell after he wakes up. You could imagine him saying stuff like," hooooo~ y/n chan.... If you were that thirsty for me that you could've just asked for my cum when I was awake." With that shit eating grin of his. He's nothing if not explicit with his teasings but that's wasn't enough to stop you from milking him till he was dry.

You picked up your pace, taking more of his cock in your mouth, using one of your other hand to massage his balls, you were doing if hard enough that it wouldn't surprise you if he woke up but there was no movement from his side. You kept on your ministrations until you felt him twitch in your mouth, he was close, you thought about stopping since you expected him to wake up before cumming but just as you were about to pull yourself up, you felt a hand on top of your head gently grabbing your hair.

"...what's wrong babe?.... aren't you gonna finish", his voice was a bit groggy as he propped himself on his elbows, staring at your cum smeared face, his hard cock still halfway in your mouth. The jerk must've been awake for a while now if he's able to talk so smoothly right of the bat or worst yet, wasn't asleep at all. It was annoying how he could keep a cool front all the time.

You squeezed his balls, hoping to get a reaction out of him but he kept on giving you his signature toothy grin. You started sucking on his tip while your hand pumped his shaft, knowing he was on the verge of cumming. He bucked his hips slightly, finally letting that string of moans you were waiting to hear. You pulled him out with a pop, focusing solely on stroking him, harder and harder untill he came all over his stomach and inner thighs.

"Haaa....that was mean y/n chan.....I thought you were really thirsty with the way you jumped on me in my sleep", he said grabbing you by your hair once again, giving his hold a slight pull untill your face was in front of him," but here you are wasting it all". There it was, his dirty mouth you are so used to and his lust filled bedroom eyes urging you make a comeback of your own.

" You knew I'd come didn't you", giving him a stink eye you were hoping he'd fess up. It all made sense, from the oddly huge and romantic suite to his overly sexy getup, he was luring you in all along waiting for his 'surprise'.

" I just knew you wanted to please you hardworking boyfriend~", you had to roll your eyes at that, but he was right about you wanting to please him. He kissed you softly, knowing full well that your night was just beginning. You quickly pulled the skirt of your dress up reveling your uncovered pussy, Kuroo raised an eyebrow at that.

" Well I am a woman on a mission you know", with a smirk you shifted until your wet nether lips were hovering just above his thick muscular thighs. You kissed him again, hard, as he grabbed your hips to pull you on his thigh. The feeling of your sloppy cunt against him made his thigh clench in anticipation, you began rubbing your pussy the sturdy surface he provided. Your movements brought pressure on the soft nub of your cunt, which sent shivers across your body, causing it to heat up.

He pulled his face back, you looked so cute to him, enjoying yourself so much on just his thighs, he had to be an ass, " so y/n, where's my present.....", His tone was joking but you wanted to shut him up for good this time, not wasting another second, you pushed him down the bed roughly and a few seconds later your cunt was straddling his face.

"Here it is.....your 'present' honey~", you cooed sarcastically above him as you braced yourself on the headboard.

" Is this what you meant when you say you'd take me to an all you can eat buffet, cuz if it is, then it's cringey", he said with a laugh, complaining halfheartedly, he grabbed your thighs to position himself, taking a moment to admire your puffed up pussy drenched in your juices. " Spread yourself for me babe, I atleast deserve a good view", something about his talkative nature in bed made you nervous no matter how many times to have fuck. You did as you were told, bringing two of your fingers near your pussy, you spread your glistening lips to until your entire cunt was in display.

With a hum and his typical "good girl", Kuroo went straight for your clit, not touching any other part until you were overstimulated. He gave your sex a long lick, twirling his tongue around your entrance as his hands kept massaging your inner thighs. Your voice begain cracking form his ministrations and It wasn't soon before you felt your orgasm approach, his movements were steady, relentless in their teasing. Your clit was throbbing and your pussy kept on getting wetter until you were certain your juices were dripping down your boyfriend's face which he devoured with a hum. You arched your back pushing yourself further down his face and moaning uncontrollably as your hips bucked to match Kuroo's rhythmic actions.

You came with a loud moan, calling his name till your orgasm passed. You lied in top of him as you both panted to catch your breaths. Turning around, you saw his bedside clock, reveling its way past 12. But the disappointed was overwritten with the blissful afterglow so you just settled for staring lovingly at his sweat slicked, cum smeared face.

"Ready for round two", his voice regained its challenging tone but this time all you could feel was gentle adoration towards your tricky faced boyfriend. With all its ups and downs you keep yourself connected to each other in so many ways, you had to show your appreciation somehow. You took his face in your hands, rubbing soft circles across his cheeks as you leaned in,

"Happy birthday my love".

[sin-of-jess]

Mirio Togata

Type:  Smut

All characters are aged to at least 21!

~

The front door to the apartment was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen after a week of being out of town. The hotel I stayed in was nice, but as a homebody, I was ready to be at my place again.

A warm and pleasant smell wafted to me as I open the door, and I can feel a faint smile as I see my fiance Mirio's shoes in the cubby by the coat rack. Said man pops into view as I put my coat up, "You're safe!"

"Always am," I joke back at him as he plops down the single stair to hug me. His grip is just a touch too tight, but it's normal for the large hero. "I missed you."

He kisses the top of my head before pulling away, "I missed you too."

I peek around him and take a large sniff of the air, "So whatcha cookin'?"

He holds up the large spoon he had been holding the entire time, "Ramen! It's done now, so go sit and I'll bring it to you."

I can't help the dust of pink that crosses my cheeks, "You didn't have to."

Mirio hooks his arm in mine and pulls me along, "And you didn't have to go clear across Japan to help in Sapporo, but you did cause you're nice!"

Pro-Hero work didn't often take me out of the city, but this was a rare exception that I couldn't avoid. I nearly tripped taking off my shoes before we stepped up to the living room and the left, Mirio spinning me once and dropping me to the chair. I couldn't help but giggle as he waltzed away. He was good at making this place feel like home.

I put my elbows on the table and let my chin rest on my hands. I can hear him rustling around the cabinets, talking to himself too softly to hear with him faced away. When he's finished he sits a hot bowl of [F/type] ramen in front of me. "I hope you like it."

I grin at him, "I thought I smelled something delicious!" We eat together and I retell everything about the trip. As I get closer to finishing my food, he suddenly gulps the rest of his down and stands up. "I've got something else planned, so stay here okay?"

I squint my eyes at him curiously but nod anyway as he walks towards the hallway and into the bathroom. Using my chopsticks to swirl the last few noodles around the broth, I listen to see if there's any hint to what he's up to. The water is running, and there's a slam of the cabinet at one point, but nothing else. To pass the time I grab both our bowls and bring them into the kitchen sink. Just as I reach the dining table to sit back down, Mirio opens the door, "[Y/n]!" He calls out.

I join him at the bathroom door and he opens it fully to show that the room is lit only by all the candles placed languidly around; showing off the bath full of bubbles and steam. I look to the left to find a pair of pajamas nearly identical to my favorite, this one a different design. A bag of candy and a little bow sits atop.

"Aww!" I coo, feeling the fresh material as I take it all in. I look back to Mirio, "What's the special occasion?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Just wanna do something nice for you." He steps in and closes the door, "Get naked so you can get in."

"How brazen!" I giggle at the now blushing man. I do what he says though and toss the dirty clothes in the basket on my way into the tub. The heat gives me goosebumps, and I can see that the bathwater is pink and smells of roses. I feel something brush my leg and lift a rose petal from the water, "You really thought of everything, love."

He smiles sheepishly as he gets down on his knees beside the tub, "You deserve to be spoiled [Y/n]." As I wash and condition my hair, Mirio grabs a washcloth covered in my body wash and begins running it along my arms, shoulders, and neck. "Your injuries don't look bad."

There were lacerations on my right arm and side, but recovery quirks from a medic helped and they were nothing more than marks marred in three red lines. "They're not tender anymore, so the worst is over," I assure. This man has endured more injuries than I could imagine, yet treated every bump and bruise as if I'd lose a limb.

The washcloth runs along my collarbone and I sigh out as my fingers relax in my hair. He glances down, then back at my face as he continues washing my neck and chest. "I'm a worrier." He impishly replies.

I let my head roll onto the back wall as I close my eyes and focus on his hand, "I know, I get it." The washcloth travels around the left sideboob, dipping under the water to run along my side closer to him. It slides across my stomach and up the valley of my breasts before running across the bottom of my collarbone. He repeats it on the other side and this time his arm brushes across my wet nipples and I let out a hum.

"Feel nice?" He asks me softly, and all I do is nod my head as I keep my eyes closed and focus on his touch. It had been a week since I had seen him, and every graze and caress felt hot. I let out a breathy moan when he finally rubs the cloth across my nipples, his fingertips massaging each one before dipping lower. He massages my right hip and outer thigh first, running up and down my calves before increasing the pressure of his fingertips as he massaged my inner thighs.

My head lolls to the side and rests on his arm that's propped on the side of the tub. "Are you teasing me?" I mumble up to him.

It takes him a moment to answer, the cloth just barely touching my core before moving to massage my other hip and outer thigh, once again at my calves when he responds, "Does it seem like it?" He's being coy, something close to a smirk on his lips as he massages my inner thigh and glances my way.

Our lips meet and there's no cloth between Mirio's fingers and my slit. He rubs my sensitive nub and leans in to kiss me deeper, my hands going to the edge of the tub as I gyrate my hips to his fingers.

He slips a finger inside, swirling his finger around as our lips part and a mewl slips out. A second finger joins and in moments my hips are jerking up, the coil inside twisting as he rubs his thumb across my clit.

"M-Mirio!" I moan out as I arch my back, the feel of release just around the corner. Part of my breasts and nipples peek out the water with my back arched, giving Mirio the perfect opportunity to wrap his lips around a bud.

It's all the stimulation needed, and I let out a shriek as I cum on his fingers, water spilling out and soaking Mirio's shirt.

Mirio's grinning when we finally make eye contact, "Stand up, we're not done." My eyes widen, but I let Mirio guide me up. Once on shaky legs, he hoists me up bridal style.

"Your clothes!" I shout.

Mirio only laughs, "They're done for anyway. He drops me on the bed and wastes no time in diving in and wrapping his lips around my clit. My hands shoot into his hair as a lengthy moan came out.

His strong arms wrap around my thighs and bring me closer to his swirling tongue, Mirio enthusiastically dancing between my clit and hole. One of his arms unravels itself and his fingers slide along my slit as his tongue focuses solely on my clit. A finger plunges in and instantly he sets a steady pace. A second finger follows after and my body writhes in pleasure. I can feel the orgasm coming, so I pull on the shoulders of his shirt as I breathe out, "Mirio, get on top."

He grins impishly back at me, "You're so impatient." He teases. He sucks on my clit and curls his fingers, coaxing another moan from me. My head falls back and my hips leave the bed as I feel the familiar sensation take over me.

I hadn't even caught my breath when Mirio rises up, his shirt on the floor by the time his lips are on mine. His kiss is lazy as he focuses on unfastening his pants, and my hands weave through his hair as he situates himself. His lips slide across my jaw and he presses a firm kiss to my neck and enters me, a soft groan in my ear.

His pace is steady as he continues to kiss and nibble along my neck and jaw, my hands in his hair unwavering as I rock along to his hips. His breath is warm, my senses in overdrive as pleasure racked through my body.

He straightens up and readjusts his knees and he's speeding up, his eyes on my bouncing chest. His large hands cover them and I grip his wrists to ground myself to his heavy thrusts. His hips snap just right and I grip the pillow and scream out his name, "Mirio!"

His hands slide to my sides, my tits again free to bounce. Mirio was lost in watching the rhythm and his hands tighten as he speeds up. This orgasm comes from nowhere and rips through me so fast that all I can do is scream out and shake on his cock.

Mirio mumbles something and at last his hands are at my hips, pistoning into me so hard and fast that the bed begins to squeak. His name is all I can get out as I watch him, His face focused as he's still watching my chest.

"Ahh!" He moans out as he suddenly pulls out, grabbing his cock with one hand and pulling me closer with the other as he pumps six thick ropes of cum across my stomach and under my breasts.

My body is trembling as I relax into the bed, a more relaxed smile on his face as he finally looks at my face, "You're beautiful."

I giggle out, "You're charming."

He grabs his shirt from off the floor and wipes me down thoroughly, kissing me firmly before grabbing his old clothes and slipping out the room. When he comes back he's got the clothes and box of candy from the bathroom, setting them down on the dresser to get himself dressed while I slipped on the pajamas he tossed me. Once dressed and under the blankets Mirio returns, holding a piece of the candy up, "Say ah!"

I open my mouth and he tosses the candy, a laugh slipping out as the candy bounces off my nose. I shuffle around the blanket and find the piece, Mirio coming face to face to me with a new piece at my lips. The candy is sweet and I grin at him, "Have I told you I love you?"

He chuckles and kisses my forehead, "I could hear it every day forever."

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Seven: Spencerspective

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 2,512

MASTERLIST

~

Spencer didn’t fall asleep for hours. He tried not to keep watching the door, but keeping Y/N safe was more important than rest.

If you're exhausted tomorrow how are you supposed to protect her?

Finally, with that thought in his mind, he let himself succumb to slumber, which was surprisingly easy with Y/N cuddled against him.

After a night of horrible dreams and tossing and turning, he woke up to the wonderful smell of shampoo and flowers. Following his nose and breathing deeply, eyes still closed, he found himself suddenly with a face full of hair.

Spencer yanked back, eyes blowing open.

No. No. No.

It all came back in a rush. She’d gotten closer to him, holding him tighter than anyone had in a long time. And he hadn’t resisted. He’d given in to her so quickly.

It wasn’t like he didn’t like her. He did. Too much. His job was to protect her, not fall in . . . fall for her. Plus, it was taking advantage. She was only getting close to him because he was protecting her. It was a whole reverse Florence Nightingale situation. If they’d met anywhere else, she wouldn’t have given him a second glance.

But now, with her back pressed up against him — a little too much — how could he resist.

He had to. He couldn’t hurt her like that. He was just going to slip out of bed and go back to the floor. Without waking her up. Easy.

“Mm,” she moaned, stretching her spine and snuggling against him tighter.

Oh no. There was no way he could sneak away with one of his arms under her head and the other wrapped tightly around her waist. Not without waking her up.

How had he even gotten into this position? Looking back, it was his fault for pointing out just how large her bed truly was.

Wiggling a bit, she pulled a pillow closer, pushing herself even closer to him.

Now another problem was . . . rising. Literally.

It was a no-win situation. He could slip out of bed, almost definitely waking her up resulting in a potentially huge misunderstanding. Or, she’d wake up before he could leave the bed and certainly feel his. . . .

He had to get up.

As gently as he could, he removed his hand from her waist and slipped the other one out from under her head, placing it softly back on the pillow.

Her whimper at the loss of his warmth was like a dagger through the heart. More than anything, he wished he could jump back in bed with her and comfort her, holding her how he’d wanted to last night. How he’d found himself holding her this morning.

Why are you so crazy for this girl?! You barely know her!

“Spencer?” even with hours of sleep, her voice was still so melodic. If he weren’t so cold without her against him, he would have melted.

“Hey,” he said softly — too softly, get it together, Spencer!

“Is everything okay?” she rubbed her eyes sleepily, adorably. 

“Yeah, yeah, I just, um, had to go to the bathroom. I didn’t wanna wake you.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Nearly 1:30.”

“PM?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus.”

She sat up and blinked, looking at the space on the bed where Spencer had been. 

Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

“What do you want to do today?” He tried to say it casually like he cared more about what they’d do rather than what she wanted to do. It was unclear if that had come across.

“I don’t know,” she wasn’t meeting his eyes. “I kinda wanna go out?”

Spencer froze.

“Go out? Like on a . . .” he trailed off.

“Like a date,” she mumbled, then, quickly: “As a cover, of course. I just think it might be a good distraction.”

But Spencer was already shaking his head fervently.

“It’s too dangerous. In fact, nightclubs are responsible for about 60 percent of rapes and 20 percent of murders. It’s the perfect place to commit most crimes. No one is paying any attention and—“

“Spencer!” she interrupted, “I didn’t mean a nightclub. I mean, seeing you dance sounds amazing but that’s not really my scene. What about like a restaurant?”

“A restaurant?”

He considered it. Respectable restaurants had professional waiters, unlike nightclubs; better security; and, best of all, they were more spaced out, meaning less opportunity for a stranger to get close. He’d have to be on high alert, though.

“I know a great place nearby,” she spoke up, breaking his train of thought. 

“I don’t know. . . .” he said, still wary.

“It’s walking distance.”

His mistake was meeting her eyes. She looked so hopeful, so helpless. Oh god, there was a hint of puppy dog eyes. How could he resist?

Seriously, how?

“Okay,” he said, giving in as she let out a little squeak of happiness, heart warming at the sound. “But at the slightest danger, we leave.”

“Yes! Of course!”

“And no alcohol.”

She hesitated for a split second, then sighed.

“Yes, okay.”

“And no dancing,” he added, sliding into the bathroom, leaving the door partially open.

“WHAT!?”

~

“Hey, it’s almost seven.”

Spencer and Y/N had been slumped on the couch for hours watching old episodes of Doctor Who and arguing about the science of time travel.

“Time doesn’t work that way! It’s like a line.”

“But what if you went back and changed something?”

“No, no, no, you can’t do that because it would have already happened. Like if you in the future traveled to right now, it would happen right now, but since you didn’t just now, then it doesn’t happen in the future. It’s the rules of physics.”

She’d scoffed at that.

“Maybe time doesn’t follow the rules of physics.”

“Okay, speaking as a certified genius with a Ph.D. in Chemistry, you are on dangerous grounds.”

And then she’d thrown a pillow at him, the both of them descending into giggles.

Spencer had almost forgotten why he was there. Why he was really there.

“Oh, yeah. Should we go?”

Y/N laughed derisively, gesturing to her t-shirt and pajama shorts.

“Not like this. Gimme fifteen minutes.”

She jumped up and ran to her bedroom, closing the door.

“Door open!” Spencer reminded her.

She stuck her head out and blew a raspberry but she did leave the door slightly ajar. Not enough that he could see what she was doing, just enough to know that she was safe.

Meanwhile, he rummaged through his bags, trying to find something appropriate to wear. Everything he had was either too casual or way too casual.

Finally settling on a cornflower blue dress shirt, a grey sweater to wear over it, dark slacks, and a jet black tie, he stood, waiting by the door and fidgeting with his sweater so it covered his revolver. He knew it made her nervous and didn’t want to put any stress on her that could be avoided.

The door to her room opened and Spencer’s head shot up. His jaw practically dropped.

Sure, her outfit was dazzling, small sparkly black heels, a short swishy blue dress that was both casual and classy (and happened to match his shirt), and long dangly earrings with little clocks on the ends, but what really got him was the way she was looking at him. Expectantly, patiently.

He realized she was waiting for him to say something.

“You look . . .” he tried so hard to think of a compliment that expressed his awe while remaining professional. “Stunning.”

A smile lit up her face and Spencer’s heart soared.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, adjusting his tie.

The contact made him jump.

“Ahem, shall we?” he opened the door and held out his elbow for her to take.

“We shall.”

So she took his arm and they set off into the night, locking the door securely behind them.

An hour later, they walked up outside a small bistro, Spencer slightly out of breath.

“When you said walking distance. . . .”

“Three miles is walking distance!” she said defensively.

“For superman!”

“Oh come on! You’re in the FBI, I'm sure you do your fair share of chasing bad guys.”

“I’m an FBI profiler. And while I do enjoy the occasional walk through the park, exercise isn’t exactly my strong suit,” he explained, gesturing to his lanky body.

“Suppose not. Then again, I saw the way you ran after that blue car. I know you’ve got some hidden muscles under all that . . . dork.”

He feigned offense at her remark.

“Pardon me, ma’am, I am a nerd. Very big difference.”

“Mm-hmm. Something only a dork would know,” she laughed, booping his nose and walking into the restaurant, Spencer taking a moment to be shocked before following her.

They got a nice table by the window at her request. It seemed she knew the waiter, calling him by his name and exchanging a brief greeting, introducing Spencer as Doctor Reid.

“Have you been here a lot?”

“No, never, but the waiter here, Tom, works at my regular coffee shop. Barista by day, waiter by night.”

Spencer laughed softly.

Okay, so she’s never been here before, meaning she’s never been here before with a guy, meaning she wanted to take you somewhere special. Meaning she likes y—

“Stop it!” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth. 

“Hmm?”

Spencer blushed.

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering about what to order. I don’t really go to a lot of restaurants, to be honest.”

“Me either,” she smiled softly at him and Spencer found himself smiling back.

“Ready to order, Doctor Reid?” The waiter said, smiling.

“Ladies first,” Spencer said, relishing in the way Y/N smiled at him. This would be a long night.

~

“ . . . and the whole point of his writing is to experience a whole new idea of life!”

“Did you even read Walden?”

After the food came, a chicken empanada for Spencer and a bowl of pasta for Y/N, the conversation had somehow shifted to a heated discussion of what Henry David Thoreau’s ideals were.

“I’ve read . . . parts.” 

Spencer gave her a doubtful look and she sighed.

“I’ve read the Sparknotes.”

“Exactly! His point is to go live in the forest to achieve inner peace. The problem is, as humans, we need society and interactions with others in order to function. I actually had a coworker who had a cabin in the woods and he never mentioned becoming one with nature.”

“Well, maybe he just picked the wrong forest. Like, I couldn’t relax in the Forbidden Forest. It’s all about location.”

“Forbidden Forest?”

“Like from Harry Potter.”

Spencer glanced away.

“You’ve never read Harry Potter?” she said incredulously.

“Nope,” he blushed. “I’ve always preferred—“

“Oh god, please don’t say Twilight.”

“Nooo,” Spencer chuckled, “I was gonna say I prefer Doyle’s works.”

“Oh, I love Doyle!” she said happily. “Everybody always talks about Sherlock Holmes but have you read The Narrative of John Smith? It’s definitely some of his best work.”

Spencer’s mind went haywire. She had brought up his favorite book of all time in casual conversation. Who was this girl?

“Spencer?”

He snapped out of his daydream and looked at the woman in front of him. She was working on two doctorates, she loved Doyle and Doctor Who, she owned a goddamn bookstore, and she walked almost everywhere. How was he not supposed to fall for her? 

“Spencer?”

“Yes, yeah, sorry.”

The waiter came up and placed the check next to him.

“For the gentleman.” 

Avoiding eye-contact, Spencer took out his wallet to pay.

“Hey!” she swatted his hands away, making him drop his wallet into his lap. “We‘re not leaving yet! What’s the rush?”

This relaxed him a little. His nerves were starting to get to him. C’mon, Spencer, you’re a professional. Get it together.

“There’s no rush!” he quickly recovered. “I was simply checking to see if I had the adequate resources for the evening,” he smiled widely, waggling his eyebrows. But she had frozen, a shocked expression on her face.

“What?” she breathed.

Spencer cocked his head, not understanding her confusion. He was clearly reaching into his wallet for a surprise. What other resources did people keep in their walle—

Then it hit him.

“Oh! Oh, no I meant. . .” he fumbled with his wallet, trying desperately to pull out—

“This!” a shiny golden key. “I, uh, have a surprise planned.” It was extremely hard not to blush, and he was even less sure he was succeeding.

But, upon seeing her face contort into one of excitement, he was reassured.

“Okay! What are you waiting for? Let’s go now!”

And she jumped up, leaving the appropriate change in the check.

“C’mon!” Spencer was about to protest her paying, but she was grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his seat, out of the restaurant.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be surprising you, here!” he protested, stopping her just outside the door.

“Fine, lead the way, Doctor,” she giggled, bowing deeply.

Spencer curtseyed and walked off in the direction they had come, his woman on his arm.

A woman, he corrected himself. Not his.

“So,” Y/N said after a while of walking, “Where are you taking me?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Ha. You know, statistically, around eighty percent of people who say that, secretly love them.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she spun around and started to walk backward, maintaining eye contact, “but I’m not exactly a person that most statistics apply to.”

“So you don’t like surprises?”

She frowned.

“Touché.”

Spencer laughed as she spun back around, walking next to him. Their footsteps became a rhythm and they stayed silent for a while, just enjoying each other’s company.

Then, Y/N’s footsteps started to falter, breaking the pattern.

“You ok?” Spencer knew that people favoring the balls of their feet while walking was a sign of anxiety.

Rather than answer verbally, she yanked him down a dark alleyway, pushing against him.

“Y/N?”

She was holding him against her, her own back to the brick wall.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, this isn’t how I wanted it.”

“What are you sor—Mmf—“

A hand snaked around his tie and pulled him down sharply. Their lips met in an instant.

He should have pulled away. He should have stayed professional. He should have done anything but what he did.

Hands flying to the side of her face, he pulled her closer, coaxing open her mouth and moaning softly into it, feeling her hands travel down his waist, running along his belt.

Her lips were so soft. He’d wanted this so bad. And now that she was against him, lips against his, he realized how much he’d needed it. It wasn’t fair to her. He’d deal with that later.

But before he could process anything else, a sudden weight left his hips, her lips left his, and the unmistakable noise of a gunshot rang through the air behind him.

~

@aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao

[gemstoneconstellations]

The Happiest Place on Earth

Summary: Epilogue to Angle with a Shotgun. Watch how Bakugo tried and tried again to ask you one simple question.

Word Count: 2443

A/N: thank @voicesoffiction for this, they inspired me to do something for AWS since I was already doing some for HBAN and they also suggested this idea to me. Thank you again!

“So Fujio has had his quirk the whole time?” You placed down a red seven on the tray in front of you. Katsuki and you were on a bullet train heading towards Disneyland to celebrate your one-year anniversary. To pass the time, the two of you played Uno as Bakugo told you the story of how a boys camping trip with Fujio led to them finding out Fujio already had his quirk.

Katsuki placed down a blue seven. Damn, no blue. “Apparently. Ei couldn’t remember him ever scraping his knee before or having to kiss any ‘boo-boos’.” He smirked as you had to draw a card; lucky for you, it was blue.  Katsuki scoffed as he looked over his cards. “Guess it also explains why he didn't get hurt when Dunce Face dropped him that one time as a baby.”

You gasped, smacking him in the arm as he laid down his card. “Bad Uncle Suki.”

Katsuki frowned at you, making you laugh. “The fuck. It wasn’t my fault. Shitty Hair is the one who trusted him to watch his infant alone.”

“Hmmm, I still can’t believe he jumped in the firepit and came out fine.” That was not a phone call you ever expected to receive from Katsuki. You could hear Kirishima’s panicked rambling in the background as you were told the camping trip was going to be cut short and they were on their way to take little Fujio to the hospital. Turned out that his pretend hero name he uses for games was pretty accurate; he really is the Unbreakable Fuji

“My first thought was, ‘Shit, the kid is seriously hurt, there goes my fucking bed and Ei’s balls.’ Remember, you can’t tell anyone about how we found out his quirk, especially his mother.” You snorted into your cards when Katsuki gave you a serious look, like your life depended on keeping this secret.

“Yeah, I know. And it’s our bed now, mister.” You slam down a yellow two. “Uno.”

Katsuki’s nose flared, glaring at his hand that held ten cards, while you were on your last one. “You are fucking cheating.” He changed the color to red, smirking, thinking he’d caught you. The poor fool.

You bat your eyelashes at him. “It’s all about luck sweetie. And I win.” You place a wild plus four down. He gaped at it before slamming his hand down and pushed the cards away, completely done after losing three times in a row.

He crossed his arms, staring out the window pouting. You smile and scoot closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Katsuki’s body relaxed as you snuggled against him, one of his hands grabbing yours and weaving your fingers together. “Not competitive, my ass,” he grumbled as he rested his head against yours.

“Shhhh, I’m sleeping,” you giggled, closing your eyes to sleep the rest of the way to your destination. The two of you had left before the sun rose so you would get to the park early. Within minutes, you were out cold.

Katsuki was jealous of how you were able to relax so easily while he was trying not to show how panicked he was on the inside. A small box weighed heavily in his pocket.

~

Katsuki grumbled from the table, chewing on his straw as he watched you gush over the fucking park actor dressed like a duck in a sailor outfit. Second attempt at a proposal foiled. He’d first tried at the park entrance, wanting to pop the question in front of the sign that said “Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth”, potentially making that one spot literally the happiest place on earth for the both of you. The plan was to have him go through the metal detector with the ring in his pocket, setting it off, and having the security guard in on it pull the two of you to the side by the sign and have him take out the ring. 

But nooooooo. You have to be so connected to your inner child that you ran ahead without him to grab an itinerary and a map before he even had a chance to scan his ticket. The security guard patted his shoulder, sympathetic. 

Then at lunch, he tried to do that cheesy, ‘Oh, what’s that in my dessert? A ring?’. Nope. Before he could even order the dessert and slip the waitress the ring, you saw that fucking duck waddle his ass over and suddenly your boyfriend didn’t fucking exist. 

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Katsuki slammed a few bills on the table and walked towards you, ignoring the bewildered waitress and not caring about his change.

You were waving goodbye to the stupid duck when he took hold of your wrist, pulling you away. “Come on, glow worm, we got more ground to cover.” 

Time to go to plan C: the giant ass princess castle, the most stereotypical place to propose at this particular park. He knows you’d enjoy it, so who fucking cares at this point. He just wants to put the damn thing on your finger already. 

“It doesn't matter how many times I see it, I’m still in awe,” you sigh, leaning against the railing as you admire the castle. Katsuki wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You know you can go inside? If you are willing to pay the price, you can eat in the ballroom and even get married right where Cinderella met her Prince Charming. So romantic.”

“I like the original better. Especially the eye gouging part.” You elbow him in the gut, making him chuckle. He watched as you took a few more pictures of the castle. It was time. 

Katsuki cleared his throat as he dug into his pocket for the box. “You know, if you wanted, we could be one of those people willing to pay the—”

                                              BOOOM BOOOM

Over on Main Street, confetti cannons went off. A fucking parade with floats slowly moving down the road had randomly started up. Why is there a fucking parade!?!?! You launched yourself out of his arms, your body knocking into his hand holding the box and sending it to the ground. “Fuck!”

“It’s 2 p.m. already?! Come on, Katsuki.” Not even looking back, you ran off to get a good view. Katsuki groaned as he searched the ground for the box. 

He found it, but he’d completely lost you. “Are you fucking serious? Does the fucking universe hate me? What did I do to deserve this?!” Katsuki dragged his hands down his face. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he started to look for you. Lucky for him, your quirk made you stick out. At least he knew you were happy.

After the parade, Bakugo let you drag him onto a miniature train that would take you to the other side of the park with a wildlife tour on the way there. One more attempt. While you stepped away to use the bathroom, he waited right by the entrance to the platform to get a chance to convince the conductor about helping him propose. He had the best chance on this train. No mascots for you to run off to, no extra loud distractions, and no way you could run off without him again. You were trapped to sit through his entire proposal whether you liked it or not….hopefully you did like it….

Katsuki was starting to grind his teeth, becoming more irritated. Where the hell was the conductor? His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. He turned around and answered when he saw who was calling. “What do you want, dumbass?”

“Did you do it yet?! Did she say yes? Of course she did, I’m so proud.” Kirishima’s overly cheerful voice rambled on as Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose.

Through gritted teeth, he groaned. “I didn’t ask yet.”

“What? You guys have been there for hours! Why the hell not? You get cold feet, bro?”

Katsuki gripped his hair in frustration. “NO! I tried three god damn times! Happiest place on earth, my ass. This fucking place is the worst; why did I think this place would be good? It’s fucking full of distractions and interruptions left and right. I’m lucky enough for her to be next to me for a solid five minutes. I take my eyes off her for a second and she’s fucking gone!”

“Did you even plan it out? Or are you winging it like when you fight?”

He rolled his eyes, turning away from the people who were shooting him looks. “I had a plan; I had three. All failed! I got one more idea but if this goes down the shitter too, I give up for today.” Katsuki was starting to think he should have planned something more isolated like his friend; that had been a smarter idea than what he’d been doing all day.

Kirishima hummed in understanding. “I’m sorry, bro.”

“Is that Uncle Suki? I want to talk to him!” Fujio’s little voice whined over the line.

“Not now, kiddo.” That wasn’t the right thing to say to a four-year-old who had been experiencing more mood swings.

A loud wail rang through the phone; Katsuki yanked it away from his ear in surprise. “Hey, put a cork in the fucking brat before he damages my ear drums.” Kirishima tried to shush Fujio and promised that he could talk to Katsuki later tonight but that wasn’t good enough.

“Are you talking to Fujio?” Katsuki jumped as you stepped up beside him. His head shot up towards the front of the train. The conductor was already there setting up. Fuck. “Hi Fujio! Why are you crying sweetie?”

“Shit.” Well maybe he could still do it on the train ride, it’s not that big of a deal to get the staff involved.

Yeah, he can do this. You’ll calm down the little shit fast and then you both will go on the train.

“Of course I can talk to you. I heard you got your quirk Fujio! That’s so cool, do you want to tell me about it?” 

“All aboard!” The conductor yelled as the gates opened. Okay, so you’ll talk for a bit on the phone. That’s fine. Everything is fine. The two of you sat in a booth as you kept talking to Fujio, listening to him talk about his newly discovered quirk.

The train started to move and you were still on the phone. “No, don't worry about it, Kirishima. I don't mind talking to him. We are only on the train ride getting to the other side of the park. I got time.”

Why….why did he have to fall for a decent person? Your kindness is completely screwing with him right now. You kept talking to Fujio, working out his emotions with him and making him feel better. It’s a good reminder of the qualities that had made him fall for you but why did it have to happen now?

The train was arriving at your stop when you finally said goodbye to Fujio. Katsuki was mentally and physically exhausted; he dragged his feet as he got off the train. You handed the phone back to him, not noticing the scowl on his face was not the same as his usual one. “I’m so sorry, bro.”

“You’re dead to me.” Kirishima whimpered into the phone causing him to sigh. “.... for the rest of the day….I’ll fucking talk to you later, Shitty Hair.”

After hanging up, Katsuki let you drag him wherever your heart desired. You fluttered around like an excited glowing butterfly, having to see every inch of everything. Seeing you glow so much did raise his spirit a bit. You being this happy from just being with him here was worth the amount of time and preparation to get here, even if he didn’t get to do what he came here for.

“No… anything but that,” that was the final straw that broke him. The ultimate torture. The ride straight from hell. It’s A Small World After All. Fuck whoever wrote that damn song; Katsuki would howitzer his has into space if he could right now.

You pulled on his arm, dragging him over to the ride. “Please, for me.” He groaned towards the sky as he was easily pulled into the little boat. He sat in the boat like a grump as you sang along to the song before you’d even entered the tunnel.

Katsuki could already feel a migraine coming on. He better get some therapy sex for the trauma you were putting him through on this ride. With his eyes shut, he tried to tune everything out. Finally everything was quiet….wait, the boat had stopped moving. 

He sat up straighter as his eyes opened to see only darkness. “What the fuck happened?”

“Attention, guests!” Someone who sounded like they were using a megahorn shouted down the tunnel. “There was a small powersurge and a few of the rides are currently without power. Please stay inside the ride until the problem has been resolved. Once everything has been fixed and you get off, everyone will be given a free meal token to any restaurant at our park. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Well that fucking sucks,” Katsuki grumbled. Fingers slid across his bare arms as you quickly latched yourself onto him as soon as you were able to find him. He could feel you trembling slightly. “Are you scared?”

“It’s a little creepy to be sitting in the dark with all those dolls staring at you,” you mumbled into his arm. 

He sighed, leaning back and letting you cling to him. “Relax, I’m here dumbass. I’ll always be here for you.” You smiled against his shoulder, humming happily as you held his arm closer to your slightly glowing body. Fuck it, he came here to do one thing and damn it, he’s going to do it. “You know that, right? I’ll do anything for you, even get on a stupid ass ride like this. Cause you love it and I love you.”

His free arm reached into his pocket as the room became even brighter. Now he can clearly see your smiling face right in front of him. “I love you too, Katsuki.” 

You leaned in for a kiss, but he stopped you as he whispered, “Prove it.”

“Prove it? How?” You pulled back and furrowed your brows.

“I've been waiting all day for this. You better fucking say yes.” Finally, Katsuki held up the open box to you. “Be my wife, ___.”

[zelgadis55]

Chapters: 35/35 Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Michelangelo (TMNT), Leonardo (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT), Raph, Casey Jones, April O'Neil, Splinter (TMNT), Hun (TMNT), Klunk (TMNT) Additional Tags: Literature, fan fiction, Drama, Dimensional Crossover, 2k12 Mikey in the 2k3 universe, Family Feels, 2k3 side of AOtGO, AOtGO, slow acceptance, Bad Dreams, Survivor Guilt, Crossover, 2k3/2k12 crossover Series: Part 1 of AOtGO Summary:

 Lost and alone in another reality, one turtle must try to find his way home. All while trying to forge a place amongst a family who lost one of their own under horrible circumstances and seemingly resents his very presence. No OC's. Set: 2k3 up until 'Good Genes'. 2k12 up until 'The Good, the Bad and Casey Jones'. 

Comments, thoughts and concrit is always welcome.

                               And One to Grow On                                               Ch 34                                            epilogue

“You've been through this,” Donnie eventually turned to Michelangelo anxiously. “Is there anything I can do to help him or make him feel more comfortable?”

Blanching at the reminder, Mikey shook his head sadly as he watched Leo from a distance. “Not really, dude,” he answered sombrely. “Nothing got through to me until it started wearing off. I mean, some distant part of me noticed I was hurt or cold or thirsty, even that my legs were killing me from just standing so still but it was like it just didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was doing what I was told, whether it was attacking you guys or standing in one spot until I was told otherwise,” he explained quietly, repeatedly pulling lightly at the elastic of his left elbow pad before releasing it to snap back against his inner elbow in a visible display of just how upset he really was about all this. "The worst part was when I started getting my mind back but my body wouldn't obey me yet.”

“I see...” Donnie muttered despondently. “In that case, perhaps it would be better if I sedate Leo after all.”

“No, don't,” Michelangelo insisted again, his demeanour seemingly distant. Yet Donnie could see his attention fixated on Leo.

“Why not?” Donnie asked gently. “Everything you just said makes me think it would be kinder to help Leo sleep through this and we know the sedative won't have any ill effects when mixed with that chemical in his system.”

Mikey shook his head and looked up at Donnie. “I dunno, dude. I just...” His voice petered out and he moved towards Leo. Upon reaching home, they'd removed Leo's mask to be able to see his eyes and Michelangelo was focused intently on whatever he could see in their dull, emotionless depths. Despite Donnie's small protest, he stepped closer. Leonardo turned his head, watching Michelangelo the way a cat watches its prey but he didn't otherwise make a move. Mikey smiled warmly down at him and reached out a hand to rest on Leo's comfortingly.

“Mikey!” Raph choked in disbelief. “Get away from him! He's dangerous!”

“It's okay,” Mikey said softly, more to Leo than to Raph or even Donnie. “Everything's gonna be okay,” he promised.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3956152/chapters/83752957   or   https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10696178/35/And-One-to-Grow-On

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 11: Cait (Part 1)

You speak of the Grimm that scour the land outside the cities?

The real monsters are already here.

❃❃❃

“Can you please *hah* tell me why *heh* we’re running to *huh* Yuen’s office?” Cait wheezed.

After Hattie had so gleefully hinted at what they were going to do, she had wasted no time in dragging Cait out of the door and ordering them to run as fast as they could to the precinct, giving them only enough time to grab their weapon; a pair of chain flails they had christened as Entwined Catenary.

“I called her up, and she said that Sardion and her were going to go investigate a potential lead!” replied Hattie, her weapon Whirling Dervish strapped over her back in its gun form and her left hand firmly around Cait’s right wrist. Her jubilant attitude appeared to be doing wonders for her stamina—despite the fact that they had been running for a good half mile, she hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Wait, seriously? Where?” Cait asked, completely forgetting about their still-incomplete essay. Despite their past week of getting nowhere, a small feeling of excited anticipation sparked within them.

“I don’t know the details yet! We have to hurry, though, she said they’re waiting for us!” Hattie said as she finally let go of Cait’s wrist, keeping pace ahead of her teammate.

***

After a few more minutes’ worth of running, the duo stopped in front of the precinct to find Sardion already waiting outside. The streets were vacant except for the trio, with the building’s windows darkened and Yuen nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, so… where’re we going?” Hattie chirped, bouncing on her heels as Cait took a minute to catch their breath.

“Out to the Manju-Shage District.” Yuen answered. “It’s a long shot, but we might pick up a trail out there, if nothing else.”

“Manju-Shage?” Cait asked. “That’s a pretty long way from here.” Their legs weren’t suitable for a mile-long run and such a walk, with only a five-minute breather.

“Don’t worry,” Sardion said. “We’re taking a ride.”

A sound of a whirring propeller overhead caught the two students’ ears. They glanced up to see a compact Sailship descending from above them, lowering itself beside the trio to hover just above the pavement. It was noticeably smaller than the transport Sailships that the city police usually flew, but it looked to be big enough for the lot of them.

“Might as well get there in a bit of style, eh?” Sardion said, hopping into the cabin. “Climb aboard, you two.”

“Where’s Detective Yuen?” Cait asked as they hoisted themselves in. “Wasn’t she the one who called up Hattie?”

Sardion jabbed a thumb at the cockpit, and Cait turned to see Yuen sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“You two got your weapons and everything?” Yuen asked, turning to speak to them. “I don’t want to waste any time.”

Hattie nodded, her grin brimming with excitement. “Locked and loaded, captain!”

“Detective Captain,” Yuen replied, feigning amusement. “Well, at least you’re enthusiastic about this. I’ve never seen anyone this eager to check out Manju-Shage.”

“Hey, where’s Rudyard?” Hattie asked, realizing the man in question was nowhere to be seen. “Wouldn’t he want to come along for this?”

“No idea where he is,” Sardion said, shaking his head. “We tried to get through to him before calling you, but he left his Scroll in my office. I left behind a note for him, just in case he comes back to look for it.”

Yuen cleared her throat, turning back to the sailship’s controls. “Alright, guys, hang on to something— I’m gonna take us up.”

With a rush of wind and a roar from the engines as the propellers sped up, the sailship slowly rose into the air, sailfins gently undulating up and down as the vehicle ascended.

“Whoa…” Hattie uttered in breathless awe, never having experienced a ride so high before. “I can see the whole city from up here. If it were lighter, I could probably see Lake Matsu from here… this is so cool.”

“Mmm.” Cait hummed in apparent agreement, looking less interested than the former.

Sardion cocked an eyebrow at Cait’s uncharacteristically morose behavior, but chose to say nothing of it. He brushed his hand against the handle of his weapon, holstered in its pistol form inside of his jacket. While his gut feeling more or less indicated this excursion would be as inconsequential as the past seven days, he couldn’t help but entertain the uneasy thought that something would end up going wrong.

At least nobody said ‘what’s the worst that could happen’, he thought to himself. ‘...Wait, damn, does that still apply if you think about—’

“Don’t get too comfy,” Yuen called out over the noise of the engine, interrupting his paranoid inner monologue. “We’ll be there in ten minutes tops.”

***

To the two of them, the simple act of killing was an easy task, and a depravedly enjoyable one at that.

The art of assassination was not, nor was it particularly fun— especially when it involved multiple targets. The job called for sleepless nights, long boring stakeouts, the painstaking task of ensuring any kills had no trace of evidence, and comparably squalid living conditions in hideouts.

While they weren’t exactly the neatest duo for such a profession, they had tried their best. The two had always preferred making their kills nice and personal, one of them in particular relishing the opportunity to savor every dying breath.

Suffice to say, neither had much regard for the mess they tended to leave behind. This time around, however, they had been given specific instructions to leave no trace.

“I gotta admit, the plan you had to clean up those two loose ends wasn’t half bad. Still doesn’t look like anyone’s caught wind of us yet.” Nest observed.

She stood atop a stump of concrete on the edge of a dilapidated apartment block’s roof, her partner sitting on the ledge beside her.

“If we’d kicked down both doors like you suggested, the whole Mistral City police force would be breathing down our necks right now.” her partner said. “You see, Nest, you should think sometimes about focusing on your brain rather than your brawn. Then again, since you don’t even have a Semblance, that’s not saying a lot.”

“…You calling me dumb, Moira?” Nest asked, bristling slightly.

“No, I’m calling you unreasonable and impulsive, because you always want to fight without thinking about your next move.” Moira retorted. “But if you want to call yourself dumb, I won’t argue with it. Just remember that you said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re just jealous ‘cause that tongue of yours isn’t all that useful. At least I can fly, froggy!” Nest hissed.

“Whatever you say.” Moira said. “Dumbass.”

“RRRRRRR—!” Nest growled, the metal wings fused to her back scratching together as she rounded on Moira, razor-tipped feathers glinting dangerously in the moonlight. “Say that again, I dare you! I double-dare you!”

“Calm down.” Moira said, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, your whole thing about ‘leaving them alive just to toy with them a while’ nearly cost us big. What are you, a housecat with anger issues? You remember as well as I do what Faine said about these two.”

“Tch.” Nest glared at her, folding her wings in reluctant acquiescence. “Fine, whatever. Any update on where we’re supposed to go with the kitty cat yet?”

Moira shook her head. “You know, if I’m being honest, I still can’t believe that we found them.” She leaned back, letting out a long sigh of disbelief. “It’s been so long, and just when we least expect it…”

“Mmmh..” Nest mumbled. “Boss’s still being too soft on them, if you ask me.”

“What, the whole thing he said about not hurting them?” Moira asked. “You make it sound like you didn’t expect it, but you know as well as I do how much they mean to him.”

Nest threw her hands up, growing more exasperated the more she thought about it. “Goddamnit, Moira, he hasn't shown me a tenth of the kindness he has to them for the last eighteen years, and here I am, ready to die for him! Cait… that little bastard’s got an ungrateful streak half a mile wide. That's why I never cared much for them, you know?”

She shook her head in disgust. “I just can’t stand anyone who won’t stand by their own.”

***

Cait hunched over in the cabin, their elbows on their knees and their hands holding their head as they stared at the metal floor. Their chest felt painfully tight, and butterflies were practically swarming in their stomach.

“Are you okay? Even without my Semblance, I can tell you’re not feeling well.” Hattie asked Cait, the latter sitting alone in the center of the sailship. “You’ve got ‘anxiety’ written all over you.”

Cait looked up, a bit surprised that Hattie had noticed. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a bit stuffy in here, that’s all,” they said. 

Hattie pouted. “I’m not dumb, Cait— it’s a chilly night, and we’re in an open-door sailship.

“If you want some air, maybe it’s best for you to come closer over here.” Sardion added, pointing at a seat next to the edge of the cabin where the windstream was stronger.

“I said I’m fine.” Cait said, a bit more emphatically. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. It’s just… jitters or something.”

Hattie and Sardion looked at each other. “Okay, just... don’t freak out, okay? We’ve got this.”

Cait nodded, looking down again.

While it eased up slightly with the pair’s reassurances, the knot in their chest remained as the sailship drew above Manju-Shage. It was a feeling of dread they had felt before, and it had been a long enough time since they did that the sensation felt almost foreign— but still, they knew it all too well.

It can’t be him. Not here, of all places… there’s no way he could have found me so soon…

***

“You see that?” Moira said, pointing up at the sky.

“Of course I see it.” Nest snapped. “What’s a sailship doing out here at this time of—” She froze in the middle of her sentence.

“What?” Moira asked, turning to her partner. “What’s the matter?”

“Hold up.” Nest motioned to the open cabin, squinting. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or is that… Sardion Sarikaya? And… the kitty?”

“That— oh. Oh, that’s just wonderful.” Moira said, displeasure clear in her tone. “If he’s here, then that means he and the baldy already narrowed it down to here. I knew that we didn’t cover all of our tracks.”

“Stop whining, Moira, don’t you see how good this just turned out for us?” Nest said. “We’ll be killing two birds with one stone. Kill Sarikaya and whatever sidekicks he brought along, sedate the kitty, fly ourselves back home in grand style like we were never here in the first place. I’m telling you, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

Moira raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to rebuff her partner before pausing. “I could dismantle any tracking device that’d be on that ship… and we could scrap it once we touch down.” After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, Nest. Let’s play it your way.”

***

“Whoa… this place is super gloomy.”

Under the sailship’s floodlights, the bright blue accents of Hattie’s dress stood out from the dilapidated grays of the decrepit Manju-Shage District. Yuen had opted to land the sailship dead center in the ruins of the abandoned city expansion, in a small area where a park likely would have stood. The grass around the perimeter was clumped and overgrown, neglected yet still alive.

“It’s a shame this wasn’t even finished.” Sardion said. “Would’ve been a nice place if they’d gone through with it, but now it’s just a big waste.”

“Speaking of, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yuen said, a shotgun slung over her shoulder. “Sometimes a Grimm or two make it in here, but never anything the police can’t handle. What I’m worried about is the squatters.”

“Squatters?” Sardion said.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few times where some thugs from the Hana Guild or the Spiders decide to drop in and lay low if they’ve made trouble in the city.”

“They ever killed anyone before?” Sardion asked a bit warily. “Given who it is we’re looking for…”

“No,” Agave replied. “There’s a first time for everything, though, so stay alert.”

***

“They’re coming closer, froggy.” Nest called down to Moira, beating her metal wings to keep herself level as she hovered a few meters above her partner.

“How many?”

“Four in all. The leader, the detective… the kitty… and their teammate.” Nest replied. “So what do you say? Who gets who?”

“I’ll deal with the grown-ups, you take the children. Look, just try not to hurt them too much— he won’t be happy at all if you do, and I’m not taking the blame on your behalf if you screw up.”

“Fair enough.” Nest said, landing beside her, a tense note of excitement in her voice as she furrowed her wings. “When do we start?”

“Patience, Nest. Let them play around a little bit more.” Moira said, flicking out her serpentine tongue. A single fleck of spittle dripped from a polymer barb on the end, and landed on the concrete below. It hissed for a second, then melted right into the stone, leaving a penny-sized crater behind.

Her lips, pocked and distorted by scars and welts, curled into a predatory grin. Several stories below, the quartet from the sailship entered the apartment block.

“Oh, this is going to be ever so fun.”

[harrysdimplles]

64!! Super angsty with smut pls!

"64 angsty pls"

"Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything."

It's worse than torture.

He knows she's not doing it on purpose too, that pulling back is how YN process things on her own mind. He knows he fucked up, badly this time, and that he ought to give her space...he's aware of all of it, he swears.

But he can't take it anymore. It's been days, and even if there's a lot Harry learned he can live with over the years, having the girl he's utterly in love with act as if he's invisible is not one of those things.

He's no stranger to missing her: they had to make their way through a world tour within the first year of dating, after all, and there were days where he almost said fuck it and hopped on a plane back home just to have her mumbling at him for getting up too damn early every time one of them slept over. This is different.

It's worse, cuz she's right there. It hurts, to be so close knowing that she won't give him more than an angered look before finding something to busy herself with so they don't have to talk about the elephant in the room.

If only his manager had kept his mouth shut...

Okay, blaming other people is a low blow, but Harry's a desperate man at this point.

A stupid one too, saying yes to another stunt after all the bullshit he was put through, after all the things he saw his friends having to endure. They didn't know better, back then, plus, it wasn't long before he discovered it was easier to go with it than try to fight the tide.

So, that's what he did, when a room full of people suggested creating some buzz before all the new things were set in motion.

Stupid.

He wants to believe things would be better had he gotten a chance to tell YN about it himself, but that's mostly wishful thinking: the surprise morphing into hurt in her eyes when she heard the words is the problem he has no idea how to fix, not whose mouth it came from.

xxx

"We need to talk" his voice wavers in the dark kitchen, YN's focus remaining on her computer screen.

"I'm working, Harry" her fingers haven't stopped hitting the keys, but she's tensing up more and more with each passing second. Because he's still there, standing closer than he has for the entire week, so she knows he's not going to take the hint and leave.

Not this time.

"Babe, please." the singer isn't even sure what he's begging for. Please, look at me. Please, let me explain you date the biggest idiot in town. Please, say you don't hate me.

For a second there it feels like she's gonna turn around, Harry's heart beating on his throat, but then YN climbs off the stool, shuts her laptop down and pushes it into her purse. She's leaving. Again.

"Wait." he's on her way now, hand on her shoulder, the small touch practically making his head spin. "I'm an idiot. A complete ass. I know that, love. I just..." there's so much he wants to say the words feel like they are stuck, like he can't get them out fast enough. She's still not turning around, won't look at him even when he pulls her body towards his "I'm sorry" her face is stoic when the smaller one finally looks up. "I'm so sorry, and I know just saying the words won't change anything, but please, baby" the fact she doesn't recoil from his touch is a small victory, but the silence is still hanging in the air and Harry thinks he's about to suffocate.

"Talk to me" he begs "Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything."

xxx

"You didn't have to lie" YN knew that conversation was coming from the moment she understood what the meeting she had unintentionally crashed was about, however, now that it's here, she wishes Harry would let her pretend for a little while longer.

"I didn't! I was gonna tell you, swear on me mum"

"That's...that's not what I'm talking about, H" her feet are moving before she can stop herself, breathing suddenly easier when there's some space between them "I won't act as if I'm an expert, but public stunts are part of the job at this point...this will not be the first one you pull, nor the last....it's just that it hurts. I know what I walked into when I said yes to you, but this...this is more than I can take"

"I called it off. The whole thing. It's not....they shouldn't have suggested it, and I was a fucker for even considering the idea..." he was talking faster than ever, and fuck, why were they having this discussion at 3 a.m?

"Harry, stop. Please, stop it. This is not about the stunt. Do it, if you have to. I don't think you need it, and I'd rather you let your talent speak for itself, but what do I know? I believed you when I shouldn't, I'm too weak to just leave, and that's why we're here, stuck" the words are heavy on her tongue, heavier on her heart. This is it.

This is the end.

"Wha...I don't..."

"Come on, H. I get it, alright? You're a private person, the fact that your life hasn't been only yours in almost a decade has got to make it worse. I understand why you want us to be careful, I love that you think what we have is special enough for you to want to protect it from the outside world, but I'll not be your dirty secret" there. She said it. YN managed to turn her worst fears into a couple of sentences that hopefully make sense. "I can't let myself go there, no matter how much I love you." she makes a good job of holding back the stupid tears, but then he's there, standing so close they are breathing the same air and it's just. "I love you so much, Harry" she has to say it. He needs to know. "I love you, and I can't, okay. So if you're....ashamed of me, just say it."

"Don't say that. Love, no" he's bending himself down as he speaks, hands on her face so she can't look away. "I'm not ashamed of you. I would never be, YN. You're brilliant, talented, caring. You're the strongest person I know, baby. Most days, I'm asking myself how I got so lucky to have you by my side" he's almost choking on the words, and there's so much truth in his eyes, YN wants to forget, turn back time and not interrupt that stupid meeting, but she can't, not when she hasn't told him everything.

"Then why do we have to sneak around like we're doing something illegal every time we go out? Why is it so important that everyone thinks you're single, unless they are convinced you're fucking some perfect model?" she hated how one event could set her back like that. YN won't forget the girl she used to be, but she's worked too hard to believe she's better than all the fucked up people in her life made a point of telling her she was, over and over again. "Why am I not good enough?"

He's crying when his mouth crashes on hers, pressing himself so close she can feel every hard muscle on his body, even if his lips are as gentle as ever, moving against her with barely any pressure, the salt from the tears mixing in.

"I'm the one who's not good enough" it's barely a whisper, so easy to miss in the craziness of her heart plummeting into her ribcage, the woman reads the words in his lips more than she hears them "I'm just not. I made a choice that means I have to live in an insane, cruel world. I don't regret it, cause I get to do the one thing I'm truly good at, I touch people's lives with what I have to say, but...it was my choice. Not my family's, my friends' or...It's not that I don't want people to know I'm in love with you, YN. I'm terrified of what happens once they do. What if you wake up one day and realize it's not worth it?"

"Harry..."

"It's hell, baby. I have to live with it, but it's not long before people remember they don't. I'm not trying to turn you into my dirty secret, I'm trying to keep you from leaving me. Please, don't do that"

xxx

Harry's not sure what it means when she pulls at his shirt, whining at the back of her throat the second their mouths touch, but he's too desperate to ask, so he just presses forward, deepening the kiss, trying to use his body to say what the words failed to: he can't quite explain what it feels like to just be himself some days, but he'll be damned if his insecurities take her away.

So he kisses her, harder and deeper every second, kisses her until they are both lightheaded and struggling to breathe, kisses her til he convinces himself she's not about to slip away the minute they are apart.

It's still somehow not enough, Harry decides, manhandling the girl so she's sitting at the kitchen table, with him standing between her legs, the spark in her eye that tells him she's thinking about something smart to say drowning in a moan when he grazes his teeth against the sensitive skin of her neck, biting down when YN's nails press down on his bicep.

"Harry" his name is a warning and a plea, stirring the part of the man that wants to mark her up again, make her his, so keeps at it, making sure she's got a couple hickeys to look at in the morning, ones that are going to match the scratches on his body, the sting of it sending waves of pleasure to his hardening dick.

"Want yeh" he confesses, lowly, knowing she's gonna like to hear it, needing her to say she feels the same. It's been too long since last time, and he knows, knows that the talk they were having is far from over but...later. "Can I?" she nods and he gets rid of her pajama's shirt in one go, pulling back a bit to just look, but then YN is hooking her calves into the small of his back, trying to bring him closer, her smooth palms sliding over the muscles in his abdomen, goosebumps rising up all over the inked skin.

She falls back a little when her shorts and panties come off, holding her body up on her elbows, trying to bite back a moan for the feel of his fingers lightly tracing the skin of her inner thighs, closer and closer to where she needs him, the hunger rolling off of him making YN impatient.

"Take me" she wants to be embarrassed about it, but then Harry's in her, first finger sliding in with ease as he nips about on the expanse of her tummy, leaving more marks on his wake, his rigid cock just a layer of clothing away and yeah...he should just take her already. Please.

"Fuck, baby" she's desperately trying to close her legs when the second digit slides in, the change of pace kind of overwhelming, especially when she can feel the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on her clit, the wet sounds amplified in the silent room "That feel good, love? Gonna gimme one like this?" she doesn't want to, not yet, but her body became a traitor the first time Harry touched it, each of his thrusts making her head spin faster, need and pleasure moulding into something that's closer and closer to taking over her body until it does just that, until all she can feel is him: the way he's pumping in and out of her wet cunt, the way each sliver of his skin that comes in contact with hers seems to be burning up, the tone of his voice ordering her to just let go and cum for him. There's nothing but Harry, and yet, it's not enough.

The protesting sound makes her open her eyes again, body tingling and suddenly empty, only for YN to be graced with the sight of Harry using her juices to slick himself up, hissing as his fist moves over the hard shaft a couple times. He moves closer when he sees she's come back down, kissing her again as he enters her body in a slow way, panting into her mouth with every inch.

"You can move" the girl whispers only seconds later: she's still pulsing and sensitive, but she wants him. Needs it. "Wanna cum on your cock"

Then Harry's moving, going a little deeper within every thrust of his hips, harder, faster. For the first time, he loses control. Just fucks her, and it's rough and glorious. It drives YN over the edge a second time in no time, his weight on top of her overdriving her senses when his hips finally still, Harry pulling out on the last second, marking her once more.

xxx

The rising sun finds them curled up against each other in the living room rug, YN tracing the ink on her boyfriend's arm to stay awake.

"I'm sorry" he drops a kiss to her hair, dragging his eyes down her face and the bruises starting to bloom in her body. His.

"I'm sorry too, H" she should've talked to him sooner. Harry's not like other men, well, not like the men that have broken her heart before, at least, but that's easy to forget when things go wrong. "Sometimes I forget you can't read my mind"

"Not yet. Give me a few years and I might" His tone is playful, but his eyes are full of promises it's too soon to voice, they both know. Still, they are there.

"I don't plan on going anywhere, just so you know" the perfect moment is interrupted when her stomach growls loudly, making them both laugh. "Except for breakfast, but I'll let my rockstar boyfriend join me"

Harry's up before she can even finish the sentence, holding out his hand for her to take.

No more hiding, not for them.

[grimgrinnr]

}HEADCANON{

I have actually been meaning to post about this for quite some time now. It’s something that I’ve both talked about before but haven’t talked enough about. Plus, with new followers and all of that, it’s something that I want to really bring up and expand upon so everyone understands it clearly.

What this post is going to be about is what’s up with my version of Alastor’s body and what probably makes him unique from canon and other Alastor muses around him.

We’re going to be going from literally the top of his head down to the tips of his toes for this because there’s a lot to be said about it all.

But, before we really get in-depth with anything, I’d like to state one overall thing about him. Alastor almost always has a glowing outline around his entire body, it’s faint but noticeable when in darkness, and if you hover your hand over his body you’ll feel the glow like some sort of fuzzy warmth. Like the light of the sun on your skin, but dustier.

Now then, starting off with his head, I want to specifically go towards his ears first as they are probably the easier to talk and describe than other parts of his body. Simply put, the tufts of hair on his head that look like deer ears are indeed his actual ears, but it is only through magic that they function. If you were to cut them off, they’d fall off like normal hair.

Of course, cutting them off, or cutting them in half, will greatly damage his sense of hearing until they heal. So do that at your own risk, as you are liable to lose your entire respiratory system in a blink of an eye.

In addition, I would like to state that he doesn’t have any other set of ears. The ones on the top of his head are all he has. If you run your hands across the sides of his head and around to the back of it, you will feel the general bone structure of someone as it should be, just without any ears to get in the way as you make your way around his head.

Moving on from his ears I wanna come inwards a little to his antlers. There isn’t much to say about them. Just like in canon, they’re small and look the way they look. But, when it comes to feeling them, they feel like laminated wood. Extremely clean and smooth laminated wood.

Now, real quick, I would like to state that my Alastor’s antlers do indeed elongate severely when using his magic for a prolonged period of time, or if using a particularly powerful spell. But they do return to normal after thirty or more minutes depending on what made them elongate in the first place.

Skipping along to his face, I want to lump in his eyes and teeth into one section. The thing is, these things glow quite a lot. His eyes can almost act as dim flashlights for himself or others if desperate enough, and so can his teeth. The glow they give off only gets worse based on his emotional state.

When enraged enough for his eyes to turn into radio dials, the glow of his teeth will synch up with the syllables of his words as he speaks, making the glow flicker as he speaks. Usually because his teeth are clenched into a tight toothy smile when he’s like that.

But, even still, the glow his teeth gives off in that state is very bright. Not as bright as a ceiling light, but bright enough to cast a considerable shine on things.

Taking a small detour from Alastor’s teeth and eyes up to his forehead, I would like to say there is a very faint scar on there right in the middle of his forehead. The scar itself is hard to see, to the point you’ll have to be up close and personal with him to really notice it and not think it’s just the light hitting his head weirdly. Then, when using high amounts of magic, the scar will be covered by a luminescent red X mark.

The reason for both the scar and the mark are things he doesn’t like to talk about. But it has to do with the way he died.

Stepping away from his head as there isn’t much left to say, let’s come down to his entire torso, as the one thing I’d like to point out is something that stretches out across his entire body, but the most notable areas are his torso and arms.

Starting things off with his neck, he has fur that rolls down his neck like the collar of a dress shirt and it shares the same color scheme as his hair, but the black outlines the outside of the fur as best it can. As in, fur lines his neck from the back to the sides just a little bit underneath his head before dipping down smoothly around the front to form an almost V like shape as it comes down to his chest.

This is part of the reason why he wears such a long collar around his neck, aside from a few scars that line the areas of skin that the front of his neck gets to show due to it not having any fur on it.

Now, onto his torso proper, the fur that comes down his neck now spreads out across his entire chest come down to an inverted V shape just above his pelvic area, while down his back, his fur stops at an inverted V that just continues down for a while towards the lower areas of the small of his back just above his rear for reasons I’ll get into later.

Of course, due to his fur rolling down his neck, it also comes down his shoulders, which are completely covered in fur. From there, his fur comes down across his arms, covering it all around equally up until his elbows, where it then tappers off to only cover the top of his arms, getting thinner and thinner the closer it gets to his wrists.

Sliding over to his sides, the only fur that can be found there connects his front to his back and only comes around and across his ribs. There isn’t much else to say about that in all honesty.

Coming back down to his backside, the reason that his fur comes down his back the way it does towards his rear is simple. He’s got a deer tail. He’s not proud of it. In fact, he sort of loathes his fur in general. But, he can deal with the tail well enough. Simply put, he has the ability to conceal it by shrinking its size and squeezing it into his pants where it then flattens out. But, when freed from his clothes, it’ll fluff back up to a fist-sized tail.

Very quickly stopping at his more sensitive areas, that being his pelvic and rear sections for obvious reasons, it should be stated he keeps them cleanly shaven for his own personal reasons.

Moving on from that down to his legs, they too have fur. From his waist down to his ankles he has fur, but the inner thigh area down to just a little above the middle of his inner thighs are bare skin because he shaves it that way. Aside from that, he is completely furred from his legs down to his ankles, where it stops almost abruptly, although it does get thinner the closer down to his feet you get much like the fur on his arms.

Now returning back up to his hands, this is something I’ve talked about a few times before, but I’d like to bring it up again in greater depth. The majority of his hands are made up of black colored keratin, the same material that makes up our nails and the hooves of deers, but there are some small areas of bare skin on his hands.

It is only small areas in the center of the back of his hands and the palms as well. The reason for that is because his fingers are largely made up of keratin and the areas around their joints are made up of keratin as well. The inside of his hands is an interesting mess though, as there are no veins or bone in most of the hand because they all stop in the middle of it right where the bare skin is.

Which does mean that if you cut off one of Al’s fingers, it’ll just chip off and not bleed. It’ll still hurt and it will be the worst idea you’ve thought up, but still.

His feet are also made of keratin, but there are no bare areas down there. From his ankles down to the tips of his toes it’s all keratin. Speaking of toes though, I’d like to state that, despite all Alastor may try to do to change this, he has cloven feet. They are still shaped roughly like a human foot and even act the same, but he has two predominant cloven toes and even some dewclaws up along the back of his ankle around the Achilles’ heel section, but he uses his magic to hide them like he does with his tail.

And, of course, much like his fingers, nothing will bleed and break if you break off Alastor’s feet because of the fact there are no bones or blood running through them.

Now, for an all-around body thing, here’s something that I’ve talked about before but want to go over again. No matter what Alastor does, he is always malnourished looking. In fact, he practically feels malnourished at all times. This, coupled with his already skinny nature, makes him look very thin when not in his clothing. In addition, his nature as a demon who suffers from random spouts of intense hunger, he will sometimes gorge himself on so much food it will lead to...

Less than pleasant results.

Most of the time he just eats adequately sized meals, but sometimes will outright refuse to eat or eat far too much depending on the situation.

With that, we are done with this post. I hope you all enjoyed it because I liked writing it, even if it seems a little confusing at times.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 51

~*~Sebastian~*~

I love stupid drinking games. One of the reasons Marvel press is fun is because of the dirt we have on each other from drunken nights and hours of waiting. Both result in otherwise inappropriate questions. This was just an organized version. When Boone said you never had fun with who you were sitting next to, I started counting people between and wrote a dare to make out with the person three people to your right.

Eli went first because it was his invention. Plus, since everyone did the never have I ever and could jump in with the truths, and the point wasn't to win, it didn't matter who went first. Straight in he pulls out, "Never have I ever had a threesome."

Me, Boone, Eli, and Alissa drink. I didn't know about Alissa. Will didn't drink, but he did laugh, "Bunch of whores."

Alissa shrugged, "Everyone experiments."

Kirk looked at her, "Not everyone. About half."

Emma was next, "Last movie that made you cry? Easy A Star is Born. I cried twice during. Sat threw the credits crying. Then absolutely sobbed in my car for another ten. Then went to see it again the next day and cried just as much."

Everyone shared theirs. Mine had been a month ago when ET was on late-night TV.

Alissa got two squares, so she got a question and a dare. Angry sex or makeup sex. Me, Eli, Kirk, Boone, and Emma were in for the angry sex. Alissa had to take off her bra and hang it from a light.

Boone had to share his worst sexual experience. That led to some funny shit. Eli had a woman throw up on his dick. He claimed the tour bus gave her motion sickness. Emma's was a guy who said his own name when he came. Mine was in the back seat of a car, missing a stroke when the cop banged on the window and thinking I’d broke my dick.

Angie pulled, "Never have I ever sent nudes." All of us drank. Will's truth was his virginity story. Kirk's ended in tears, but he wasn’t the one who cried.

I got a double color. Least favorite sex position and why. Sixty-nine because I can’t fully enjoy either and I wind up focusing more on my blow job and do a shitty job taking care of her. Emma's was reverse cowgirl because there's a problem with angle of entry and an unflattering view of her ass.

"There is no unflattering view of your ass." That just popped out.

Angie agreed with Emma, "She's right. Because in reverse cowgirl your ass is going to connect with his body and jiggle. Gravity works much better to smooth things out in doggy style."

Will smiled, "The jiggle is a feature, not a bug. But I do agree with the dangerous angles." All the straight men cringed.

My dare was to switch places with either person beside me, have the next person sit on my lap, with my hand on their inner thigh until my next turn. I ended up feeling up Angie in my lap. If I’d gone the other direction, I’d have Eli in my lap. My way was better.

Kirk read, "Never have I ever had phone sex."

Emma didn't drink, but she did glare at the woman in my lap. I raised an eyebrow, "Opposed or opportunity?"

She smiled as she said, "Opportunity."

I hummed, "You'll be in Georgia and I'll be in Canada next Sunday."

"I know."

"A lot of distance."

I started to say something about getting to be the teacher, but Angie swatted me and pointed a finger at Emma, "Any erection he gets is going to poke me in the ass, so stop what you’re doing."

You get the idea. Conversations about sex, preferences, and dislikes. Some basic shit with movies and music. Some good questions, so not so much. I learned Emma loves lazy morning sex, but not lazy evening sex. She learned I like it when she takes my hand because that's her wanting the contact. Everyone had to answer how many times they had sex in the last week. That wasn't fair. Not because I'm embarrassed by the number, but because it’s a lot to remember. I said, "Seven?"  Emma pointed up. "Eight?" She nodded.

Angie and Alissa exchanged a look, "No wonder her parts we still tingling the day after he left."

Will got a dare to explain in detail his last sexual experience, pick someone else to share, and then everyone had to vote. Wonder who he was going to pick? I prepared myself. Will and Alissa had a perfectly acceptable Thursday night with three position changes. She orgasmed during position two, switching to three to finish him. He told a good story that made his wife blush. He finished and looked at me. What did I say? I knew he’d picked me. Only he didn’t. He pointed to Emma.

Emma threaded her fingers together, turned her hands out, and cracked her knuckles.

What followed was a rather detailed accounting of our shower this morning. The physical part anyway. With just the physical description I realized just how much we talk during sex. I was filling that part in as she wove the story. Specifically, her asking if she should finish me and how her question nearly did. She didn’t share that part and her eyes darting to mine gave me a thrill.

As soon as she stopped talking everyone pointed at her, including Will. He nodded in my direction, “He alludes to a four-letter word starting with “W” and you’re blushing, but not one hint of pink from the erotic shower story?”

She took a sip of her drink, “I don’t like to lose.”

Angie raised her hand, “How did you not fall over? Showers are so slippery.”

Emma stood up and put her foot on the futon, “Tiled bench on the wall and a cut out shelf to hold onto to.”

I saw her put her hand on Eli’s shoulder and covered my face with my hands, “Somebody make her sit down.” I shook my head, “So fucking thankful Angie isn’t in my lap anymore.”

I heard Kirk laugh, “I think she’ll do fine with phone sex, Seb.”

His words got my attention. I dropped my hands, “Oh shit!”

A perfectly innocent question, “What’s your favorite thing about your birthday?”, took a turn. Angie had answered buying her favorite cupcake and two new ones from a bakery close to her school. Emma answered how it was her guilt-free day to be pampered and do whatever she wanted. Will smirked, “Birthday sex.”

Heads nodded with agreement. I shook my head, “Birthday sex means anal.”

Everyone laughed and Will shoved me. Hard.

Alissa crossed her arms over her chest, “Do not even act like that’s the only day you get it.”

Eli snorted, “I never get birthday sex.”

“You’re not getting non-birthday sex tonight either.” Beside me, Angie crossed her arms over her chest too.

I half expected Emma to cross her arms in solidarity.  I was struck with a drunken laughing fit. Others joined in.

Eli was not one of them, “How’s your birthday, Seb?”

“My birthday is in August.” See how I dodged the question.

Kirk started laughing so hard I thought he might piss himself. “Eli never gets birthday sex. Will has bonus birthday sex. I have lots of birthday sex.” He looked at me and pouted, “And poor Seb doesn’t know what he gets for his birthday.” He let out a very loud snort, “Straight people and anal.”

Emma pulled, “Pick a stripper or lap dance song.” I was fascinated by the way her eyes shifted from up and left to up and right and the way she chewed on her lip as she thought. She was thinking hard.

Eli elbowed her, “It’s not that hard of a question, Emeliana.”

She flipped him off, “Don’t Let Go, En Vogue.”

I have no idea what anyone else said. I was too busy finding the song on Spotify and creating a playlist. Will elbowed me. I looked up to see everyone looking at me. “Oh, not doing either. Naked is fine. Naked and dancing . . . nope. Too many body issues for that.”

Eli looked at me strangely, “Damn, if you’ve got body issues the rest of us are fucked.”

Emma smacked the back of his head, “You damn well know that outside and inside don’t necessarily match.”

He rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry. Fuck, that hurt.”

My text alert went off. It was from Will, who was sitting next to me. “Keep her.”

The questions and stories went on. The “game” ended when Eli reached the Candy Castle after skipping a big chunk of the board going through some sort of wormhole involving dots on spaces. I think he made it up.

We all did a celebratory shot and Emma pulled Angie off the couch, dropping down next to me. Alissa squished in between Emma and Will, so when we put our arms around the women, we brushed hands. Us, being us, we held hands for a few minutes. Long enough for Angie to take a picture and text it to Emma and Alissa.

I don’t even know how long we sat talking and sharing laughter. It was a good night. The kind of night you want to remember and never want to end. I would have never imagined a guy who’d dressed me over ten years ago on a TV show would be part of a couple who bridged my world and the world of a woman I met in a grocery store. A woman I adored more every day.

Everyone seemed to decide the party was over at the same time. We shared an Uber with Will and Alissa back over the Williamsburg bridge, dropping us off first. Inside the elevator Emma attacked me. Damn woman lacks self-control. I was going to wait until we got into my apartment. Instead, I found myself trapped in the corner, a hand on the back of my neck and one on my crotch. Sloppy, sloppy kisses were a preview of what was sure to be equally sloppy sex. We zig-zagged down the hall, fell through the door, and started shedding clothes on the way to my bedroom. She pushed me onto the bed and we fought with my jeans, laughing the whole time. Finally, we figured out my shoes had to come off first. I slapped at the nightstand drawer a few times before finding the handle and managed to get the condom on. Emma had much better luck with her shorts. I’d already pulled the drawstring on our way, so I gave her a head start. She straddled my hips and sank down on me.

I groaned loudly, “You feel so fucking good.”

Emma’s fingers pressed into my stomach, “You too.”

I used my thumb on her clit while she rode me. At least, I think I did. I was in the general vicinity. Precision with fine motor skills is one of the first things that go for me. I tried. It felt good, but I wasn’t getting any closer to an orgasm. I held onto her hips and rolled us over. Luckily, it only took two or three strokes to realize I wasn’t inside her anymore. We laughed as I got us back on track. A lot of groping and messy kisses later I pulled out and rolled onto my back. I looked over at her, “This isn’t gonna happen for me.”

She convulsed with a laugh, “Me either.”

While we laughed, I took her hand and held it against my stomach. “I don’t think you’re a real couple until you’ve had a sex failure.”

“And I have no confetti to throw.”  That started us laughing again. “Hey, your dick’s not broken and nobody yelled their own name, well, any name.”

“It could be worse.” I let go of her hand, lifting my arm for her to cuddle up. “Let’s go to sleep and forget this ever happened.”

“Not a chance.” She kissed my chest.

I pulled my head back and glared at her, “I don’t like you anymore.”

Emma kissed me very softly, “Yes, you do.”

I smiled, “Yeah, I do.”

~*~*~

About seven I sprang up in bed finding it hard to breathe. Night terror. Emma was sleeping soundly and I didn’t want to wake her. I picked my underwear off the floor and went to the other room. I sat in my favorite chair, focusing on my breathing to pull myself out of this. The racing heart and hyperventilating had me feeling dizzy and with numb extremities. Middle of the night panic is the worst. If I’m awake I can usually catch it quickly and do what I need to manage. In the middle of the night, I’m a couple of steps behind. Takes a little longer to calm down. When I left the calm place I visualize and opened my eyes I was better. The panic had passed as it always does. It would take a little while for the adrenaline to metabolize. I padded quietly to the bathroom, not wanting her to wake up and see me like this, to brush my teeth and wipe away the sweat. Back to the kitchen, I grabbed the biggest bottle of water I had. My journal was in the office. I swung by for it before heading back to my chair. My rule for this is to just write. Thinking or trying to figure out what was going on never worked. I would look back later, but for right now it was just stream of consciousness.

I heard Emma in the bathroom about an hour later. Putting my journal on the coffee table, I turned in the chair to be able to see her. When I’d gone to the bathroom, I’d moved our discarded clothes to the bedroom. She must have found them because she was in my shirt. Talk about something to put an instant smile on my face. I reached out a hand for her, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Emma took my hand, letting me lead her to sit on my lap. She pressed her lips to mine before laying her head on my shoulder. “I missed your warmth.”

Kissing her head, I hugged her closer and made an instant decision to tell her. “I’ve been up for a while. Had a night terror. Fucking hate waking up in that panic.” Now, as I say it aloud, I realize even more than the panic, I hate feeling weak and out of control.

Emma lifted her head, her green eyes meeting mine with soft concern. She ran her fingers from my temple, around my ear, down my neck, over my beard, and finally to rest on my chest. “What do you need to take care of you?”

I smiled and kissed her. Fuck. I should have woken her up because the last ten seconds had done more to calm me than everything I’d done in the last hour. “I’m ok. Meditated, water, journaling.” I pointed to my journal.

“Any luck identifying the trigger?”

I shook my head, “Na, just wrote. I see my therapist on Thursday. She’ll tell me.”

She laughed, “Will she? Mine won’t tell me anything.” She imitated a voice I didn’t know, “I’m here to help you find your answers, not give you mine.”

“Good point.” I kissed the bare slope of shoulder not covered by my shirt.

“It’s been years, but I remember the after felt like bugs crawling through my veins. And the shaking.”

I held out my hand, watching the slightest tremor, “Not so bad.” Her fingers laced with mine, steadying more than my hand.

“Why don’t you go for a run and burn it off?”

“Thought about it, but didn’t want you to wake up to a note and think something was wrong. Too much to write out.” The thought of her thinking this had anything to do with her was enough to get my heart racing again.

“If there’s a next time, I’ll know.”

I like that she didn’t automatically tell me she wouldn’t have wondered.

Before I could voice my thought, her hand was on my face and she kissed me, “Seriously, Bastien, go for a run.” She nodded toward the door.

“And leave you here?”

“I will be right here when you get back.”

There’s a comforting thought. “Ok.” A run sounded good. Usually, I’d head to the gym early and hit something cardio and I’d be back to normal before the rest of the guys got there. She stood up and took my spot when I went to put on some clothes. I pulled my running shoes out of the closet and sat on the couch to tie them. “I won’t be too long.”

“Take as long as you need. I’ll shower. Maybe switch around some of your drawers and cabinets.”

“Sounds good, enjoy yourself.  Still want me to show you around today?”

“Absolutely.” She put her hand over her stomach, “You’re going to have to feed me.”

“I can do that.” I kissed her and headed out the door.

I put in my earbuds, cranked up the music, and just ran.

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (6/?)

AO3

Janis ditches the tights and jean shorts by Wednesday. There’s a slight look of ‘I told you so’ on her mother’s face, but she spares Janis the lecture out of politeness. Janis never thought she’d miss them, but here she is.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she scribbles another flower on the page, a twin for the one next to it. Not an exact twin, it’s thinner and its petals are more spiked and sharp than the one she drew before it. It’s less inviting, more dangerous. Angry, even. Like if she picked it up she’d cut her finger on it. She hadn’t intended for it to happen; in fact, she’d set out to doodle some pretty little flowers in an attempt to brighten up her sketchbook. But the pencil, as it often does, did what it wanted. She turns it on the side, trying to find a way to like it. It’s not bad work, not her best but certainly not her worst. Maybe she could like it if she had drawn it earlier, but she had really been hoping to get something nice into her book today.

With a sigh, she sets the book on her lap and swings her body around so that her feet dangle over the edge of her bed. Her next round of chemo isn’t due for a few hours, a long stretch of time to attempt to fill with activity. While she’s only been in the hospital for two full days, she’s decided that the worst part is the waiting around for the next thing to happen. Granted, much of that can be put on her as she’s spent more time in her room than she has anywhere else, distracting herself with TV and art and her parents and texting her friends every chance she can get. It all comes together and forms some kind of routine for her, one that’s built with as much familiarity and comfort as possible woven through it. The only downside to it is that the room’s been getting progressively smaller since two days ago and it wasn’t long before it started choking her.  

She left the door slightly open and peers into the hallway, the brightness of the walls striking against the cool tones of her room. She can hear the faint sounds of half-conversations that overlap with each other; nurses gossiping with each other while fiddling with IVs, the inhabitants of the longue talking and laughing about who knows what, doctors prescribing new rounds of medicine. The ward is much more alive than she had Janis ever thought it could be, a constant hum in the background of the day to day life keeps the place awake.

She taps her nails on the cover of her book, her swinging legs gaining momentum as she debates following the pull in her chest, compelling her to maybe leave her room for more than five minutes at a time and follow the sounds of conversation. Maybe talk to people who aren’t her medical team or her parents. Make some friends, because as everyone knows, cancer wards are prime social hotspots. She may not be here forever, but she’ll be here long enough to justify getting comfortable.

What’s the worst that can happen, logic had asked her that first night.

Literally so freaking much, she responded. Friends aren’t exactly her strong suit. Regina was a mistake, Damian was luck, and Cady was a gift. She could indulge her inner loser and tell herself it’s because she’s special and tailor made to a few specific people, but the thought of that makes her roll her eyes. So she faces up to the truth and all it entails; that she’s merely been unlucky in the friendship department, something that can be boiled down to one terrible experience and everything that came after it and lingers long after the smoke has cleared.

You’re being ridiculous she tells herself. If there’s a Regina George clone here, she’ll be thoroughly impressed. So she pulls her boots on and pushes herself off the bed, quickly explaining to her mom that she’s going to hang out in the longue for a bit.

“You need me to come with you?”

“I’m fine,” she says, a small smile on her face as she pulls on a cardigan. She nods at the intense competitive cooking show her mom has on the TV. “Tell me who wins. And don’t leave out any details.”

“Well we both know it’s not going to be Leticia judging by the look of that beef,” she says seriously. Janis clicks her tongue before turning and heading down, her steps smaller than normal and her sketchbook held against her chest like a shield. Her stomach twists uneasily, not from the chemo or anything like that, just from good old-fashioned anxiety. In an odd way, it’s a relief to feel ill in that way.

When she pushes herself past the open doors, all eyes turn to her and only look away to talk with other people. It’s far more populated than the last time she was here, people sitting in groups of two and three, most in pyjamas and some with hats. But all of them in groups, belonging with each other. Is this how Cady felt all those months ago, when she and Damian spotted her heading to the bathroom? Maybe her girlfriend had the right idea that day. A bathroom stall is a way better alternative to a room full of strangers.

Unfortunately, she knows better by now, and so she settles in an armchair as gracefully as she can, her legs tucked beneath her, and tries to shake off the discomfort she feels by opening her book and giving her hands something to do.

“You’re new,” a girl sitting on the floor states. She’s one of the few that actually has hair, dark brown and curly, and it makes Janis feel a little more at ease. Is that bad, she has to ask.

“Third day,” she explains, offering her a small wave. “I’m Janis.”

“Melissa,” she says. She leans back on her arms and exposes a little bandage inside her elbow. Janis pulls her own arm a little closer. Melissa doesn’t seem to notice, instead gesturing to her with her chin.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” she asks, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh, just some drawings I do.”

“Cool,” she says. “So you do art?”

“Sometimes it’s like the art does me," she says dryly, earning a chuckle. “But you know how it is.”

“My best friend says that all the time,” Melissa sighs. “She says she wants to go to art college but I’ve watched her cry over trying to hand in assignments.”

“You sound like my mom,” Janis replies. “Literally every time I bring up doing art in college she tells me how stressful it is.” She shrugs lightly. “She’s not wrong, but it’s the only thing I want to do.”

“Is your mom here?”

“Yeah, she’s back in my room,” she explains. “I left her watching some cooking show on TV.”

“Wow, and you’ve only just here. I’ve been here for a month and I only just got my mom to let me out of her sight,” she sighs, a resigned smile on her face and her eyebrow raised in a silent ‘you know how it is’. “Want to play some Scrabble? We’ve started keeping a scoreboard so we can add you in. We have a whole tournament going.”

“Sounds fun,” Janis says, pushing herself off the chair. “Although I should give you warning, I’m dyslexic, so I kind of suck at it.”

Janis follows her across the longue, slipping her hand into her pocket when she thinks she sees the other girl reach out to her. There’s a pang of guilt in Janis’ chest even though Melissa doesn’t seem to care, and she does her best to work through it. She exchanges names and smiles with other kids, all introduced by Melissa. It’s an odd feeling; she’s not used to being the one who’s introduced. She’s either known people so long she doesn’t need to or she’s the one making the introduction, but today her mouth feels dry and her tongue tied so much that all she can do is say ‘hi’ and try to keep up with the rest of the little group. But despite this, and despite the fact that she does supremely suck at Scrabble, they aren’t half bad. They welcome her in with no problem at all, asking her about school and life and art as they set up tiles and she knows the right questions to ask them. She laughs at their jokes and nods along to the conversation, even adding in her own take now and again as it builds into a steady flow.

It’s not entirely perfect; she can’t help but feel slightly on the outside when they bring up a nurse or a patient she doesn’t know and she’s much more quiet than she’s used to being, unsure which, if any, topics are off-limits, where the lines are. But she’s enjoying herself enough to drown out her earlier worries even if it can’t make them fade entirely, and her mood only picks up when she hears someone behind her say (squeal) her name, followed a flash of pink and rainbow appearing in her vision. How times change when a pink sweater can make her smile instead of grimace.

“Maddie!” The younger girl leans into her side, eyes bright and sparkling, and Janis puts an arm around her shoulders. “Hey kid, where have you been?”

“Where have you been more like,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you since Monday.”

“Been busy,” she says. No one presses, likely because they all understand.  They’ve all been where she is before. “And now I’m busy losing at Scrabble. Badly.” Maddie chuckles and when her arms wrap around Janis and chin rests on her shoulder, she can’t say no to it. There’s nothing uncomfortable about such a gesture and it almost feels as natural as hugging Damian or when Karen rests her head on her shoulder, despite her only knowing the girl for two days.

“Oh hey, did they tell you about the photography thing yet?” she asks.

“That what now?”

“Oh it’s this thing the cancer centre started,” Melissa explains. “Basically they want us to take pictures of stuff that matters to us. Us doing hobbies, us with our friends, the whole shebang. It’s meant to be about our cancer not defining us or whatever.” She gives a casual shrug. “It’s fun anyway. You should do it. Especially since you have your art thing.”

“Sounds like fun,” she says before poking Maddie in the ribs. “Now come on, kid. Help me make a word out of these.”  

And maybe it’s Maddie’s presence or just time passing, but Janis suddenly finds herself a lot less anxious. She even gets to the point where she trades playful insults with another kid, a boy around her age, and form a team up of sorts against him with one of the other girls. They can’t replace her real friends and she wouldn’t try to, the bonds she’s formed with Damian and Cady are too important and were put through too much to be replicated, but she suspects that they could quickly become new friends.

What’s more, treatments and diagnosis come in and out of the conversation with unexpected ease, and when Janis talks about her own, it’s the same. She hadn’t realised how much of this she’d held back, even in her texts and calls with Damian and talks with her mom. And while she feels bad for it, it also feels so, so good to talk to people like this. People who aren’t her parents or her doctors. People who are, well… like her.

And as it turns out, her next round is scheduled the same time as Melissa’s, and so they head down the hallway together. While Melissa continues to make conversation, Janis’ responses dwindle the closer she gets to her room. It doesn’t take long for the good feeling from the longue to fade, and the image of the needle in her vein becomes sharper in her mind.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Janis asks suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Does it…” She swallows past the lump in her throat. She finds a loose thread on her cardigan and toys with it until the question comes out. “Does it ever get easier? All this?”

“Well…” Melissa stops in their tracks and Janis almost trips as she does the same, immediately regretting asking. The other girl bites her lip, searching for the right answer. It feels like hours before she says “I don’t really know. I can’t speak for you. We’re all different here.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I guess you get used to it. So it starts getting less scary, I guess.”

Janis only nods and then Melissa reaches out and taps her arm.

“It doesn’t stop sucking,” she sighs. “You just get used to it sucking.”

“And then we all bond over it sucking?” she asks, smirking.

“You get it,” she replies with a laugh. “See you later, Janis.”

“Bye.”

After Melissa leaves, she lingers in the hallway for a minute, pressing her finger into the spot where her IV goes. The problem is exactly what Melissa said-you get used to it. And she really, really doesn’t want to get used to it. Getting used it to means that she’ll be here for a while, that something else replaces her old life. Especially now, after the year she had last year, she wants to get used to good stuff, not stuff that ‘sucks’. The idea of this, medicines and hospitals and doctors, becoming normal to her sends a shiver down her back.

But she learned a while ago how to live in reality, even when it’s not what she wants. And it’s with that attitude she walks into her room, where she finds not only her IV set up, but a text from Cady detailing something funny from her math class and how much she misses her.

Even if she gets used to everything else, she knows she’ll never, ever get used to missing Cady.

                                                                                               *****

Friday morning, she wakes later than she normally does. It’s a slow process at the start, sleep pulling her in and begging her to stay, the hospital-issue sheets softer than soft around her and forming a cosy cocoon that she’s so tempted to remain in.

That is, until she remembers what day it is, and then she’s jolted awake.

Friday. Or as she’s called it, Damian-and-Cady day.

It was an unspoken agreement that the two of them were visiting her in here. Just like her father, they were insistent on coming over every moment they could, with Damian jokingly suggesting he could hide under her bed and they could have a sleep over (which they had considered in seriousness and attempted to plan). But thanks to a little thing called school, and another thing called distance, today was the first day she could see them, which is why now she’s wide awake, bright eyed, bushy tailed, everything. Because she’s finally seeing them again and filling the hole in her soul being away from them had carved.

“Morning, kid,” her mom says cheerily, entering the room with a cup of coffee in one hand. “They’re still serving breakfast downstairs, or if you want it brought up to you-”

“Sounds great, Mom,” she replies, only half paying attention. She turns on her phone, her leg bouncing anxiously as she waits for it to load. Has it always been this slow at turning on? She swears it hasn’t been. It takes an eternity for her lockscreen to come up, the time written across it in thin white numbers.

“Ten thirty?” she reads out loud before her head snaps up. “Mom, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Why would I?” she asks. “You need all the rest you can get, and you’ve still got time before you’re due a round.”

“I know,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. “But Cady and I text good morning to each other and it was my turn this morning. I don’t want her to think I forgot.”

“Well, I’m sure Cady understands. You know, with all that’s going on, maybe she’s not expecting good mornings right now.”

“Course she is,” she replies quickly. In what universe would Cady not wait for a good morning from her? “It’s our thing. Didn’t you and Dad have a thing?” She types out the message and sends it quickly, although Cady probably won’t see it for at least another two hours.

“Oh, you think we did good morning e-mails back in those days?” she says, laughing a little. She sits on the bed next to her on the bed. “So are you getting some breakfast? Someone can bring it up if you don’t feel up to going down, I’ll just tell them what you want-”

“It’s fine, Mom.” She reaches under the bed and pulls on a sweater before slipping into her boots and raking a brush through her hair. “I might as well go down. Someone might take the last yogurt while I’m down there.”

Truthfully, she doesn’t really feel like eating. Not anything bad, she’s just not hungry, but it’ll put her mom’s mind at ease. Just as she thought, the tension fades from her mom’s shoulders, and when she pats her shoulder, there’s more relief in her smile than just breakfast warrants.

She eats in her room, with the TV on, like she does when she’s sick at home. She could eat in the dining room, but despite the new friends she’s made she prefers eating in private, especially away from the buzzing nurses. As she flips around the channels, her phone buzzes on the plastic table, the screen lighting up to show her a new text that makes her smile and roll her eyes at once.

‘Good morning, babe. Can’t wait to see you today. Also, ik I can’t really change it now, but what do we think of the outfit?’

Beneath the message is a picture of Cady in her bedroom mirror, clad in a black vest and blue flannel shirt with white skinny jeans, her hair held back in a high, loose ponytail, soft curls framing her round face, her eyes looking up at the mirror as she gives an open, toothy grin. And Janis can’t help it, she squeals. God damn it, her girlfriend is cute.

‘Love it, love it, love it. You’re the queen of cuteness. And apparently, texting during class. Stop doing that. If I get a text from you between now and lunch I will not cuddle you later.’

‘I’m not texting during class, it’s study hall.’ Wow, what on Earth has happened to the ever-studious, rule following Cady Heron? Not even Plastic Cady texted during study hall. ‘Besides, you have to cuddle with me. It’s legally required and I’m deprived of Janis cuddles.’

‘Only if you be good and don’t text during school hours.’ She fires back, chuckling under her breath. ‘And you remain that freaking adorable.’

“Well someone’s in a good mood.” She looks up and sees Doctor Wiley standing in the doorway, and her smile dips a little, the perfect bubble she was sitting in with Cady ruined. Not enough to ruin her mood, nothing could do that, but it shakes it.

“It’s her girlfriend,” her mom explains.

“How do you know that?”

“Your smile,” she says. “It’s your ‘Cady smile’.”

“I don’t…” Her voice trails off and her mom simply shrugs. Well look at that. She’s that girlfriend now.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Wiley says, striding towards her. Under the table, Janis crosses her fingers that this is a normal good morning visit. She’ll take bad news on any day that’s not Damian-and-Cady day. “So, Janis, a lot of us on your team have been talking and we’ve decided to ask if you might want to get a port inserted.”

“A what?” she asks.

“Think of it like a little reservoir put underneath your skin,” he explains. “Just to make receiving the chemo easier on you. A lot of patients have one put in.”

“Oh, wow.” Way to bring the mood down, Doc, she thinks. Sometimes she envies the younger patients who have their parents making all the hard decisions. Still, one word sticks out in all that. “It makes it easier?”

“Quite a bit easier,” he agrees. “For one thing, it’s a lot more comfortable than an IV.” There’s a plus. “And a lower risk of your medicine leaking out-”

“Sounds cool,” she interrupts quickly before he can bring up an image she doesn’t want. “Um, can I think about it? I mean, is it urgent?”

“No, of course not,” Wiley replies with a stiff smile. “I’ll let you and your mom discuss it.”

He leaves them after an uncomfortable silence, nodding to her and her mom and reminding her that he’s around if she has any questions.

“So what do you think?” her mom asks.

“I don’t think.” She picks her phone back up and jumps off the bed. “Where did you put my clothes?”

“I put everything in your bag, it’s under the bed,” she replies. Janis pulls out her bag, sorting through the mass of denim, cotton, plaid and leather, all while her mom hovers behind her with anxious eyes that drill into her back. "Janis, you should consider this.”

“And I will,” she sighs. She pulls out a shirt she’s always liked and throws it on the bed. “Just not right now.” She shakes her head, trying to clear some of the smoke in her brain. Still sitting on the ground, she looks up at her mom and sighs. “Mom, I just want to not think about cancer stuff right now. I just want to see my friends and think about that.” She toys with the shirt in her hands and bunches it into a tight ball, her arms tense and shaking and her grip tight. “Is that okay?”

Her voice sounds impossibly broken on that question. And while it wasn’t intentional, it works on her mom, who nods and comes over to pat her hair.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, and that’s the temporary end of it.

The day passes even slower than it normally does in hospital-time. Hours stretch on and on with no end in sight and she can’t distract herself no matter what she tries to do. She can’t focus long enough to read or settle on one TV show and even games in the longue can only get her so far. She tries checking her social media when on her IV, but she’s hardly there a minute before her anxiety peaks again after seeing pictures of her friends. Besides, it’s mostly dry now, everyone else is in class.

Finally, finally, it comes to the afternoon and it’s close enough that she can justify beginning to get ready. She stretches, grateful for the little power nap she took earlier, and fishes her make-up out of her bag. It’s not everything, but it’ll have to work, as will the tiny mirror in her bathroom.

“What’s going on in here?” The voice makes Janis jump six feet, even though it’s the honey-toned voice of one of the older nurses. “Little makeover.”

“Just wanted to look nice today,” she explains as she unscrews the foundation. She’s a little bit surprised to see that she’s not out of practice since she’s been bare-faced for well over a week now. Bigger priorities and all that.

“Her girlfriend’s coming over today,” her mom says in a low voice.

“It’s not just that,” she says, even though it might be. “Damian will also be here.”

“Oh you kids and your relationships,” the nurse chuckles as she takes the empty bags out. In the mirror, Janis sees her point sternly in her direction as though she were her mother. “Just remember Janis, if she really cares about you, she won’t care how much muck you have on your face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says as she applies a coat of eyeshadow, deep indigo and sparkling under the low lights. She adds a generous amount of purple lipstick next, a shade that’s always been a favourite of hers, and four coats of mascara. Some say that’s overkill, she disagrees. Bigger, bolder, better after all.

She takes a second before looking at herself properly, and when she does it makes her happier than it has any right to be. She looks like herself again. Not a girl with cancer. A girl who is perfectly healthy and happy, the dark circles around her eyes and the pale tint to her face deliberate. Not only that, she feels stronger, even though she hadn’t been aware of any weakness before. She can breathe easier now. She’s herself again. A little winded but it was worth it.

When she’s done, Cady and Damian should get out of school in about ten minutes. They worked it all out; they’ll get the first bus from school up to the hospital, which should take about twenty-five minutes. She offered to pay their bus tickets and her mom had offered to pick them up, but neither one of them would hear any of it. Damian in particular would die before accepting money from anyone.

So she has just over half an hour. Maybe closer to forty minutes when factoring in waiting for the bus and various stops…

She probably should have left the make-up to later just to give herself something to do.

No, it’s fine. The last thing she wants is them walking in on her doing her make-up. Besides, there’s plenty to do for half an hour. She’s waited this long after all. She checks her outfit again, first in the bathroom mirror, by bouncing repeatedly, and then by using the camera on her phone. This morning she was sure about this outfit. Now she’s not sure about this skirt. Maybe if her mom had woken her up earlier she’d have had more time to plan it. The shirt is fine, it’s something Cady loves, so she won’t trade it, but the skirt… it’s not working. She grabs more stuff from her bag and lays it out on the bed, debating each one carefully. There’s a pair of studded shorts that she doesn’t think looks right with the shirt, a pair of jeans that would be far too uncomfortable, and a dark grey skirt that she’s not worn that much and is a little short-

“Holy crap,” she sighs. She shakes her head at herself. She hasn’t obsessed this much over her looks since middle school. “You’re insane, Sarkisian. You’re fine.”

They’ve both seen her look worse, surely.

She forces herself to sit on the bed and just watch some freaking YouTube like a normal person. She gets a text from Damian telling her they’re on their way, and she takes a deep breath and sends a response. She then has one eye on the phone and one eye on the window, all the while counting the minutes until they should be here.

Twenty five minutes. One video later, it’s twenty one. Another video, eighteen. Another video, plus a sip of the coffee her mom got her, fourteen. Another video, plus re-checking her make-up, ten. Another video, six. Another video, three.

And now they should be here. They probably are; they’re probably walking through the lobby. Maybe the elevator’s a little slow, maybe they got lost. This is a big place and they don’t even know where they ward is. Do they? Did she tell them? She grabs her phone and checks their groupchat, scrolling through the week-

“Janis?” Her name is accompanied by a soft knock on the door, and when she looks up, Cady is standing in the doorway, looking even more beautiful than she did that morning with a breathless smile and dimples in her cheeks. And everything else she was feeling melts away.

Janis doesn’t care about dignity, she runs over and throws her arms around her. As Cady hugs her back just as fiercely, Janis fights the urge to pick her up off the floor.

“I missed you,” Cady whispers into her shoulder.

“I missed you more,” she replies, certain that she’s correct.

“Well I’ll just go then,” Damian jokes. “If you two need a moment alone.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she tells him seriously, jumping into his embrace. He runs his hand through her hair and even rocks her and everything about his embrace feels right.

“Got you these,” he says when they eventually pull apart. He presents her with a bunch of white flowers wrapped in silver paper. The scent is just like the gesture; so sweet it makes her well up.

“Oh you losers,” she says. “I love them.”

“Hi kids,” her mom greets from her chair in the corner. To be honest, Janis had actually forgotten her mom was there. So her mom has watched her run across the room and tackle-hug Cady. Nice. “How was school?”

“It’s fine,” Cady replies. “You know… senior year….”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” she says fondly. “I’ll give you kids some alone time.” She gives Janis’ shoulder a squeeze before heading out, and then Janis can hold Cady’s hand as tightly as she wants and pulls the two of them to the bed, utterly giddy at having them at her side again.

Even if it won’t last a voice in her head whispers.

“So come on, what have I missed?” she asks. “Other than you two, I mean. Tell me everything. Spill all the tea. I crave gossip!”

“It’s been a week, Jan,” Cady tells her, grinning and swinging her legs as her feet don’t touch the floor. “But, you do know that you’re talking to the newest captain of the North Shore Mathletes.”

“Come on then.” Janis digs her elbow in her girlfriend’s ribs. “Tell me everything.”

That’s all the incentive Cady needs.

She babbles on about her plans for the new year as Captain, how she’s already getting new recruits and she’s even allowed to invite freshmen and create Junior Mathletes, how she’s sure that membership is going to be double what it was last year (at which point Damian reminds her that there were only three people on the team last year), and about how they’re already starting to put together teams for a few contests, more than last year, and of course, how she’s ready to defend their state champion title. With each word, Janis’ heart grows warmer, the sense of security she’s craved all week settling and wrapping around her like her favourite blanket, and their hands lie intertwined on the bed a though they’d never been apart.

“So that’s my life…” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and covers Janis’ hand with hers. “But what about you, what’s it like in here?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she scoffs. “I’m always fine.” Cady’s smile dips, not enough, but Janis notice and let out a sigh. “I mean it’s not the ideal situation. But I’m… coping?”

“I do not like that inflection,” Damian adds, leaning back on the bed and raising an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t,” she says. “Like, it’s not too bad. You know… the food is actually pretty good, we have some cool stuff in the longue, they know how to keep us occupied. The doctors are all great. Including one hot med student I’m considering setting Damian up with.”

“Consider my attention grabbed,” he says. “How hot are we talking here?”

“Like… Okay I’m not into dudes, so I’m not that great at guessing, but he’s a solid 7.5,” she explains. “Would be a 9 but he stabbed me several times while trying to find a vein.”

“He did what?” Cady squeals, making the two of them jump. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “He stabbed you?”

“Woah, yeah.” She grasps Cady’s shoulder and silently bites her tongue. She rubs it in circles, bringing her back down. “And it hurt for a few seconds and I was slightly annoyed by it. And then we laughed about it.” She strokes Cady’s cheek carefully. “Nothing bad, Caddy.”

“Okay.” Cady lets out a breath and shakes out her hands. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love.” She plays a kiss on her cheekbone, the tension fleeing Cady’s body as she does so. She tangles her fingers in her hair. She even missed her hair. “It’s cute that you worry so much.”

“I always worry about you.” At that moment, Damian turns his attention to the window, and Cady rests her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis wraps her arms around her. This, the fearful looks and causing anxiety to her, this is what Janis wanted to avoid in the first place.

Damn Cady Heron and her unflinching loyalty.

“You’re feeling okay though?” she asks quietly. “Right?”

“Okay’s a bit of a relative term these days,” she says. “I’m feeling a bit bleh. But it’s fine.” Cady murmurs something she guesses is an agreement and nestles closer to her. Janis rubs her hand up and down her arm. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She presses her cheek into her head and closes her eyes, only for a moment.

“Anyway, enough of that stuff,” she says, bouncing and turning to Damian, beckoning him back over. “There’s got to be more that I’ve missed. Come on, spill.”

“Well…” Damian begins, spinning around to face them with a grin stretched across his face. He’s been waiting to tell her this, she can tell. “They’ve announced that the musical this year will be… drum roll.”

She can Cady drum their hands on their legs, the sound bouncing off the walls and making the room tremble with anticipation as it gets higher and faster until-.

“Cabaret!”

“No way!” she gasps. Damian nods excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands together. “Stars have aligned, mon amie. Stars have aligned.”

“Which means,” he goes on, throwing himself down on the bed with such gusto that it bounces. “I am going to be the greatest Emcee that North Shore High would ever wish to have.”

“Damn right!” The two high five, their glee double that of the slightly out of the loop Cady. “Emcee has been one of Damian’s dream roles ever since middle school.”

“Ever since I came out of the damn womb!” he exclaims. “I cannot tell you how much I screamed when the drama club announced it.”

“I can,” Cady adds. “It was loud and long and he got several death glares from everyone else.”

“That’s the only appropriate way to react,” Janis chuckles. “We watched the movie way back when and that’s when he decided he was going to play the Emcee or die trying.”

“It’s also when Janis became gay for Liza Minelli.”

“I’m gay for myself,” she corrects. “Liza was just the object of young Janis’ affections.” She rests her chin on Cady’s shoulder and smiles at him. “I’m helping you prep for this. I don’t care if I have to break out of here with an IV in my arm, I’m helping you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he replies. “Also the drama club is devastated you can’t do the set this year.”

“Who the heck says I can’t?” she says indignantly. “Those morons they have won’t last five minutes without my guidance. And I will not have your shining moment ruined by a subpar set.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “We all know who really runs that drama club.”

“Oh really, madame,” Damian scoffs, turning so his leg is folded beneath him. Janis keeps smiling, despite the feeling that its being tugged down and the weight settling in her stomach. Of all the times he had to do Cabaret, why did it have to be now?

“Everyone really missed you at school,” Cady tells her.

“Bet it’s not everyone,” she says, half joking. “Not one person in particular.”

“Hey!” Cady slaps her arm. “Be nice.”

“I promised to play nice to her face,” Janis reminds her. “Not behind her back.” Cady huffs out a laugh, her face slightly scrunched up. “But how’s the most important thing; LGBT+ society?”

“Well, we’re having our first welcome back meeting on Wednesday,” Damian says. “And Gretchen is taking over your stall at the fair. Sonja’s going to help her out though,” he adds. “And Sonja’s taking over your spot on the committee too.”

“Good choice,” she says. Lovely as Gretchen is most of the time, Janis isn��t sure she could handle the pressure of running her stall. And Sonja’s the perfect choice to take over her committee spot, smart as a whip, decisive and funny as hell.

So why does the idea make Janis so uneasy?

“Yeah, why don’t we turn this TV on?” she says, grabbing the remote. “It apparently has Netflix, although I’m not entirely sure how to operate it. There’s a load of DVDs in the longue as well.”

“A DVD. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Damian says.

“I don’t think they have Cabaret though,” she sighs. “Which would be perfect for us right now.” She’s telling half-truths, because there’s a substantial collection of old movies, including musicals, but she doesn’t really want to brave the longue now, or to take them in there. The longue is probably her favourite place in the hospital, but it’s bound to be full right now. And for now, she wants to keep her cancer world and the real world separate.

So with some fussing, they manage to find Netflix and learn how to work it. Cady is insistent that Janis pick the movie, since it’s her room and she doesn’t know half of them and has already watched the other half. At the start of the summer, Janis had made Cady a list of every movie she needed to watch, and by the end of August they’d almost made it to the halfway mark. The best part wasn’t the movies themselves; it was the movie nights. Huddled under a comforter and surrounded by pillows, Cady’s body pressed against hers and the lights down low, buttery popcorn and sugar-covered candies keeping them going until one (usually Cady) fell asleep.

Now they make do with the thin hospital bed and the near-plastic sheets. At least they can adjust the height of it, and Janis positions Cady against her and Damian sits in the comfiest chair to watch The Parent Trap. It’s none of their favourites, but it’s familiar and good enough and while it wasn’t on the list, Cady hasn’t seen it yet. Besides, Damian can make any more fun.

And really, Janis can’t take any more of the back and forth debate.

The more the movie goes on, the more normal Janis feels. She runs her fingers up and down Cady’s bare arms, her girlfriend’s jacket discarded across a chair like she would in her house. The conversation is light and easy and full of giggles even at the stupidest, silliest thing, Damian quoting along with the movie and Cady hopelessly lost, especially at around halfway through when Janis decides to tell her that Annie and Hallie were played by the same person.

“No way!” she declares. “I’m not believing you until I see proof.”

“Google it,” she says. “Damian?”

“Way ahead of you.” He pulls up the page and shows her the cast list, with one little Lohan billed as the two twins. Cady’s mouth falls on the floor, her shoulders shaking in a silent, disbelieving laugh.

“Jesus Christ!” she says. “How did they do that all the way back then?”

“Movie magic,” Janis replies, wiggling her fingers for effect. “It’s okay, Caddy, we all felt betrayed when we first found out.”

“Didn’t she go off her rocker a bit?” she asks, pointing to the screen. “I know that much. Regina told me.”

“A little,” Janis agrees. “But I kind of feel bad for her, you know?”

“I guess.”

“Oh. Oh!” The camera pans up, revealing the striking and scary figure of Meredith Blake, and Janis squeezes Cady’s arms. “I hated this bitch.”

“I hated her more,” Damian adds, his tone not 100% light. “When I first watched this I had this soon-to-be stepmom, because my dad was back in the dating game, and she was…” He gags and points down his throat.

“Real mature, Damian,” Janis jokes. “I mean she absolutely was, but still. Mature.”

“Okay, missy,” he laughs. “Nah but I used to try to get inspiration from how to deal with her from this movie.”

“Shh!” she hisses sharply, covering Cady’s ears. “Spoilers!”

“I can still hear you,” Cady tells her. “And I could sort of guess. All the movies about step parents do that kind of thing, don’t they? Bratty kid gets wreaks havoc on the step parent?”

“Are you saying thirteen year old me was a brat?” Damian asks.

“Seventeen year old you is also a brat,” Janis teases. Damian gasps and grabs the cushion from the chair, aiming it at her head. Part of her is completely sure he wouldn’t, not in a hospital, part of her is completely sure he would because of course he would.

She doesn’t find out either way, because their gathering is interrupted by her medical team, and the weight in her stomach comes back with a vengeance.

“Not getting in the way are we?” Nurse Lucy asks.

“Not at all,” she says. Before she stops herself, she’s already pushing Cady off her. Heat rises in her cheeks. “That time again?”

“Unfortunately so,” she replies as Cady slides off the bed. “Is it okay if Jackson does it this time?”

“Yeah, sure.” As she rolls up her sleeve, her friends catch on to what’s happening, and Damian rushes to Cady’s side.

“I promise I’ll find the vein this time,” Jackson jokes.

“Oh this is the one you said-” Cady is cut off by Janis making a small ‘cut it out’ gesture with her hand. She then raises an eyebrow at Damian, whose small smirk tells her everything she needs to know.

She takes a look at her IV and her bare arm before turning back to them. She still hates this; shockingly, she hasn’t gotten used to it in under a week. Her stomach still drops a hundred feet when she looks at the needle and her chest tightens even if she’s only thinking about it.

“You guys don’t need to watch this,” she tells them. “It doesn’t hurt. But if you need to look away, it’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” Cady tells her. When Janis looks down though, she sees how tightly she’s holding Damian’s hand.

“Okay,” she says.

This time around it only takes Jackson three tries to find her vein before securing it with the bandage. Good for him. He’s learning.

“You know the drill by now?” Lucy asks.

“Two hours, stay hydrated.” She gives her a two-fingered salute.

“Two hours?” Cady echoes, and Janis has to chuckle at it. “This takes two hours?”

“That’s what she said the first time she found out,” Lucy says, gesturing to Janis. “I can see why you two like each other so much.”

“No but… two hours,” she says again as they leave. “What do you do for two hours?”

“I just… sit here I guess,” she answers, looking up at the medicine. “You know, there’s TV. I have books. I draw. Sometimes it knocks me out and I get a little surprise nap, so that’s fun.”

“Is that… should we go?” Cady asks. “If you’re going to-”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head firmly. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.” She’s such a liar it’s a wonder her tongue hasn’t turned black and crumbled. “Come on. Let’s finish the movie at least.”

Cady lays beside her rather than on her, and Damian stays on the other side of the bed, away from her IV. She catches him once or twice, watching the drip instead of the movie. His gaze is unreadable, and since she’s always been able to know his thoughts without him speaking, it unsettles her.

It’s not long before that familiar tiredness descends on her, clouding her mind and pulling her downwards. And she fights it; she keeps her eyes open despite how they itch and shifts her body when she finds herself too comfortable lest she start drifting off. It’s a challenge, not just because of the medicine’s effect on her, but because of Cady’s warmth next to her, promising security and comfort and being there when she wakes up.

And she must have given into it at one point, because she opens her eyes after a blink and the movie is over; Nick and Elizabeth are together again, Annie and Hallie stay with each other forever, happy endings all around.

“What time is it?” Janis asks.

“Nearly five,” Damian explains. Visiting hours don’t end for another two hours. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” she asks. “I’m fantastic.”

“You sure?” Cady’s hand is on hers, slowly linking their fingers together. Janis squeezes her hand, clarity coming into her mind by her own will.

“Of course I’m sure.”

They don’t have to be home for another hour. Home for dinner, that’s the rule. That doesn’t really change. Damian tells her that his mom is thinking about her every day and was beside herself when she heard the news.

“She’s started following more baking blogs,” he tells her. “So prep yourself for a lot of baked goods on your doorstep.”

“I can’t object to that,” she says. “Especially since Val always bakes with love.”

At some point during the hour, Janis pulls Cady into her lap again, or Cady crawls into it, or both. Her head is under her chin and her back against her chest, slotting into place perfectly. Like if she holds her this close, she won’t have to leave.

Wishful thinking, she knows, because when it gets close to six, Cady picks up her jacket and her backpack and there’s nothing but empty air against Janis’ body.

She wishes she could lead them to the door, but her IV catches on everything, so they say their goodbyes where they are.

“Don’t miss me too much,” she warns them teasingly.

“I hardly ever think about you,” Damian replies, his voice thick.

“And you,” she tells him. “Better run lines with me. When’s auditions?”

“Next Thursday,” he tells her. “So I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” she says. “I have treatments at 11, at 2… You know what? I’ll text you them.”

“Okay. And you were right by the way. That med student is a snack.” They laugh, and then there’s a moment of silence before he folds her in his arms, her face burying itself in the crook of his neck and his hand cupping the back of her head. “Take of yourself, okay?” His voice is so soft, so desperate, that it sounds like a plea.

“I will,” she says. “I always do.” Knowledgeable as always, he gives her and Cady space to say goodbye themselves. She rubs her hand on her shorts, nervousness gripping her body in a way she hasn’t felt in a while and she thoroughly dislikes.

“I’ll text you the second I get home,” Cady says. “And can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course you can,” she says. “As long as you get some homework done tonight, kid.”

“I will,” she says. “I didn’t get the top grade in Norbury’s class for nothing.” Cady takes in a deep breath, her hand fidgeting around her backpack strap and her hair half-hiding her face. Janis reaches out and pushes it back and if she notices her shaking hand, she doesn’t say anything.

“Caddy-”

Janis actually wasn’t sure what she was going to say there, but it doesn’t matter, because Cady steps up and kisses her. It’s not perfect; it feels clumsy and awkward and they bump against each other, but it’s everything Janis needs. So much so that when they pull away, she doesn’t even attempt to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers, grinning. “I’ll see you soon.” She steals another peck.

“See you later, Janis,” she whispers. They don’t stop holding hands for as long as they can and Janis is still looking at her until she’s out of view, walking back down the hall with Damian, maybe getting lost again. Down the hall, to the right, into the elevator and out the double doors. Bus stop down the street, next stop home. They ride together until Damian gets off and Cady stays on. All the while she stays here, IV in arm and her phone buzzing, talking to them until she falls asleep.

[shreddedparchment]

Of Two Minds Pt. 06

You’re Not Alone

06/16/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve          Word Count: 7,713

Masterpost          Warnings: sexual descriptions, violence, language, ANGST!

A/N: Since there is only one or two more chapters for this one, I think I’m going to finish this one out before I go back to Parallel and the Brightest Star. That’s not to say I’m not working on either of those. I am. But I’ll focus on posting these first since it’s almost over. I hope you like this one. Also, I legit didn’t edit so, mind the typos. I’ll come back and read it tomorrow when I’m not so crosseyed. If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Bucky’s waiting in the small living room of the floor you share with him and Steve.

He's sitting on the sofa, black cargo covered legs spread wide. Feet flat on the ground and his hands tucked under his strong arms, crossed over his chest.

He’s not making any attempt to hide his displeasure. The rough tick in his jaw, the glare he has aimed at the TV is really for you and Steve. You know it is.

But why is he angry? Holding hands at the meeting?

When he turns it on you, that raging scowl, you release Steve’s hand as guilt builds inside your belly.

“Bucky?” You probe carefully, searching hopefully, despite his anger.

“Sounded like you were having fun. I was gonna go get you but Captain Spangled beat me there.” He’s bitter.

Oh no. Your heart stops as you realize that he must have seen. Must have heard.

What did you do?

The jealous sting in his voice you expect and the harsh glare thrown at you and Steve is more than understandable.

“Bucky…” You begin, but you don’t get much further.

“No.” He says, flat, unfeeling. For the first time in many years, you see the Winter Soldier.

The Soldat is diluted in Bucky. Suppressed. Bucky is almost free of him after years of careful reconditioning and therapy and recovery, but he’s there. Cold. Distant. And you did this to him.

You.

You’re scum. You’re shit. You’re selfish. You’re greedy. You’re the worst kind of person on the planet.

You’re sorry but you don’t regret what you did with Steve.

You need to fix this.

“Bucky…please…” You beg, moving towards him.

He allows you to step up to him. He doesn’t pull back when you take hold of his forearms. You see the subtle shift in his eyes as your touch weakens his armor. The muscles beneath your hands tighten however, tense.

“Please. I love you. I will never stop loving you.” You promise.

You know it’s not enough but you want it to be. You want your words to heal his hurt. You need for him to trust in that because you love Steve, it doesn’t take away from how you feel for him. For Bucky.

“No.” Bucky says, finality in his tone.

It guts you. A knife plunged into the soft fleshy bits of you, twisted and yanked pulling with it everything that makes you whole and happy.

“Buck-" Steve tries but when Bucky’s ice-like eyes find his warm storm blues, he stops talking.

“I said no. My answer,” He looks back down at you and speaks to injure. He wants it to hurt you and you can’t blame him. “Is no.”

You had already known that what you shared with Steve down by the lake, in Brazil, and last night cuddled safely in his arms would be all you’d get.

You’d known it and it still hurts. It’s still agonizing.

“You’re gonna leave me now, right?” Bucky spits.

You’ve never seen him so angry and his rage burns you. It takes lashes at you, scarring you.

You don’t want to leave him. Of course, you don’t!

You’d talked a big game but now that you’re facing the choice, you can’t make your feet move. You want them both but the idea of walking away from Bucky is unbearable.

You won’t do that to him. You can’t.

You cry, tears spilling quick and sudden as you grip his arms harder, trying to pull him closer but he’s a statue. Immovable. Michelangelo’s David. Cut and perfect and stoic.

“No…” Your guttural sob chokes you.

How do you walk away? How do you live your life knowing they’re both somewhere loving someone else? They’re yours. Both of them. Bucky is forever emblazoned into your heart. If he leaves you, he takes it with you, leaving a shell.

Steve is your soul. He knows your inner thoughts. He knows your impulses. He knows your darkness and your light. You want him to know your love. Your most vulnerable self, unshielded, ready to surrender to his love and to love him with abandon.

You want to be spread out beneath him as he takes you as one. As part of himself. Like you already are with Bucky. Intimate and private and personal.

And Bucky! Bucky needs to see your inner workings. You want to show him your darkness and to find out if he can still love it. Love you. How can you choose? How can you leave?

But how can you stay?!

“-I l-love you, baby, please don’t push me away.” You plead.

Bucky huffs, pulls your hands away from his body and moves around you.

“BUCKY!” You cry, a torn whisper, half crazed with the thought of losing him forever.

You drop onto the sofa, fisting the plush cushion with writhing claws. Your crying is loud and ugly and you didn’t know you could die and still somehow be alive.

You scream into the sofa because you don’t know what else to do. Bucky took your strength with him. You’d chase after him but your body won’t obey. It’s broken.

It’s full of pain, confusion, but mostly guilt because this is all your fault.

He saw you and Steve. Bucky did.

He heard you. He was there. He saw Steve touch you and you touch Steve in ways that are only his.

Why are you so horrible? Why do you do this? Why can you only destroy?

You hear Steve leave too. On some plane of consciousness, you're aware of him banging on Bucky’s door. You hear the door open and then slamming and then a small muted ruckus. Then silence.

The silence is punctured only by your sobbing. Eventually that stops too and you’re very aware of the fact that it’s either very late or really early.

You shut your eyes and fall asleep. Emotionally spent.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re awoken by the gentle shake of a familiar hand. It’s not big. Not Steve. Definitely not Bucky.

“Y/N wake up. We got’im. We know where he is.” Nat takes her hand back and watches as you sleepily sit yourself up.

You teeter for a moment; caught between whatever dark dream you’d just woken up from and very real heartbreak you’re in.

“You okay?” She asks, wary either from the look on your face or the way your body seems to stutter.

“Yeah.” You croak. You clear your throat.

“Come on. We’ve got the jet going.”

You look towards the hallway towards the bedrooms. Bucky had stormed off that way and you faintly remember hearing Steve follow him.

“They’re already on the jet. You can change on the way. Come on.” She urges you, a strange gentleness in her voice that tells you she’s very aware of some part of what’s going on with you and your two boys.

No. Not yours. Rejected. And you can’t be with Steve. It wouldn’t be fair to Bucky.

You sigh and get to your feet, slightly stung that neither of them woke you up.

The elevator ride down to the hangar is thick with words that need to be said. Not by you.

When she speaks, she’s leaning against the wall, her hands—covered in fingerless tac gloves—squeeze the metal bar along behind her.

“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice is pleading, guilty. Like you feel.

“For what?” You look at her, eyes bleary from sleep. You hadn’t even bothered to look at what time it is.

“I pushed him to go on that mission with you. I’ve been trying to get him to do something…about the way he feels about you, for a long time.” Nat flexes her jaw, then looks down at her feet before meeting you with an apologetic green gaze. “He told me that he kissed you. To make Bucky jealous? To help you two along? I could see how miserable he was and I just…”

“It’s not your fault, Nat.” You look away from her to stare at the metal doors. You did this to all of you. You. No one else.

“It’s okay, you know? Loving both of them.”

And you don’t know how it can be okay. Nothing is okay. For one fleeting moment, you think it might be better to be dead than without either of them.

The thought scares you and you gasp lightly.

“Y/N?” Nat moves towards you, placing her hand on your lower back. “You okay? You look a little green.”

“I’m fine.” You growl, not meaning to but you’re so angry at yourself.

Angry for hurting Bucky. Angry for loving Steve and hurting him too. Angry because this isn’t you. You’re not a quitter. You’re a fighter. You’ll leave, just like you said you would.

Not forever. Never forever.

You just need to get some distance. You need space. You need time to think. Maybe Bucky and Steve need time, too?

Maybe being away from you will help things be clearer?

“Y/N?” Nat probes, leaning forward to look at your face because you’re still folded forward.

“I said I’m fine.” You push her hand away and as the elevator opens you move out with wobbly feet but find your stride halfway to the jet.

“About time.” Tony snarks, in full iron armor as he steps onto the jet.

He stands aside and watches you board but with his helmet off, you can see the confusion on his face from whatever expression you’re wearing.

You move for the back-left corner of the jet where a small compartment slides out for spare uniforms.

“Hey, pouty. What’s got your mood all puckered?” Sam asks, giving you a passing glance but quickly taking in your mood.

You don’t answer him.

Very aware of your surroundings, you take note of Bucky standing at the front of the jet, hand on the back of the left pilot’s chair where Sam sits. The right left open for Nat when she boards shortly after you.

He doesn’t turn to look at you as you come on board. He’s mad at you. You get it.

Steve sits on the right side of the jet, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. They’re both dressed in full mission gear but neither of them looks at you and it stings so painfully that you blink hard to chase away the tears that accompany the ache.

Fine. If that’s how they both want to play this, then you are more than happy to oblige.

You strip, not caring who may be looking. First to go are your jeans, then your white t-shirt. You still haven’t changed since your encounter with Steve by the lake.

As the back hatch closes and Tony climbs on, sans uniform which has tucked itself back into its nano-housing on his chest, he moves towards you. He leans against the wall of the jet, shielding your semi-nakedness from the rest of the team.

“Are you good?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m alright? I’m fine!” You shout.

You don’t mean to snap but your fuse is already short enough with Bucky and Steve having left Nat to wake you and both of them not even sparing you a glance. Maybe you deserve it? Maybe you don’t?

Either way, it ticks you off, and the gnawing guilt in your chest only serves to strengthen your sour mood.

You shove your clothes into the small compartment and pull the Kevlar tac suit on. Holsters fastened and guns slipped in place. Tony continues to watch you.

“Are you getting laid?” He asks, eyes narrowed. “Helps with stress. Are you stressed?”

You frown at him and move around him, ignoring the way he smirks because you don’t want to snap at him again.

“Where are Vision and Wanda?” You wonder, asking no one in particular but hoping that Bucky or Steve will answer.

“Scouting ahead.” Nat says, no hint of your rudeness with her earlier. “They’ll meet us at the safe zone then move in with us.”

You walk over to her and as soon as you enter his periphery, Bucky turns and walks away. He moves over to the right side of the jet and sits himself as far away from Steve as possible. Ramrod straight, metal hand clenching and unclenching.

The drop your heart does takes your breath away.

All of your anger seems to disappear instantly as that painful stinging returns to the inner corners of your eyes. You shut them, urging yourself to stay professional. You can’t focus on what’s happening with you and Bucky and Steve right now.

Aaron must be the focus.

“Where are we going?” You ask Nat and your voice is a gasp.

When she turns to look at you, you can see her take note of the spot Bucky had just stood in and then frowns as she finds him sitting as far away from you and Steve as possible. When she meets your eyes, the look of solidarity and sympathy is piercing.

“Rio. Or more specifically, Cabo Frio.” She states, pulling up a map of South America. On the bottom-right corner of Brazil’s Eastern coast is a not so small city with beautiful beaches, and crystal blue-green waters.

“What’s in Cabo Frio?” You wonder, forcing yourself to focus on the display in front of her.

Since you can’t choose Steve and Bucky won’t let you choose him anymore, you choose Aaron. That’s where you’ll devote your energy. Besides, the more you think about Aaron, the less aware you are of the empty feeling in your chest.

“It’s what wasn’t in Cabo Frio six months ago?” Nat moves the map to the East and about thirty miles from shore to empty, dark blue ocean. “This was the South Atlantic six months ago.”

She presses a few buttons with sleek black polished nails and the map changes on where there was nothing there is now a small island.

“This is the South Atlantic now.”

“So, we’re flying to that island?” You wonder, reaching out to zoom the map in.

“That’s not an island.” Sam says to your left.

You keep zooming in and find yourself staring at the largest ship you have ever seen.

“Is that a ship?” You gasp, zooming in more.

“Longer than the Sears Tower is tall.” Nat says. “We’re pretty sure that’s where the drugs are coming from.”

You blink, stunned by the size, the ingenious of using a ship to manufacture drugs.

Pulling anchor and moving on is so easy. If someone gets wind of you, you just float away.

“Are we going straight to the ship?”

“No.” Nat says.

“They’ve got a base inland where we got aerial footage of your mark making drops. We’ll go there first, scope that out, take it if we can. Then we’ll take the ship. We want to cut off communication with the base on shore so that we can sneak up on the ship. We don’t want one warning the other.” Tony says, sidling up behind you.

Turning to look at him, you frown. “That’s stupid. Once they lose communication with the base, they’ll move on. Why don’t we just split up? Half of us can take the ship. The other half of us can take the base.”

“It’s too risky.” Nat shakes her head, worry painting her green eyes dark jade. “Something goes wrong, we won’t have backup.”

“Where’s Bruce?” You wonder. “Looking around.”

Steve and Bucky are standing closer, interested in the conversation now that it’s turned to the mission. You hate them a little for meeting your eyes. For tearing your heart in two and then having the audacity to look at you with nothing but business on their minds.

The feeling lasts only a second because your mind is also on business. Once the shock of having them looking at you and listening as if it matters what you say has passed, you bring your gaze to Tony.

“He’s with Wanda, scoping out the base.” He says.

“And Thor?”

“With Vision, checking out the ship.”

“Well, call them back. Is there a safe zone where we can meet up with them?” You ask, inadvertently taking charge of the mission.

“Yeah, about twenty miles outside of the city.” Nat says, flicking the map to the small warehouse to serve as a temporary base.

“Call them. Get them there.”

“I don’t know if splitting up is such a good idea.” Sam says, voicing his concern for probably all of them.

“Rhodey?” You ask Tony, ignoring Sam for now.

“Called away. He won’t be here.”

“Nat?” You lean towards her again, staring out at the darkening horizon.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that your heartbreak made you sleep straight through breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Your stomach aches and gurgles, but you ignore it. No one cares that you didn’t eat. You don’t care either.

“Get us to that safe zone.” You order and she happily obeys.

Steve doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say to make all of this better. If he hadn’t insisted on pleasuring you outside then maybe Bucky wouldn’t have shut you out so harshly.

He knows that Bucky doesn’t mean it. The no is tentative. It had been spoken in haste and in jealousy and anger.

Steve’s already kind of changed his mind. Not really, but before Tony had called about Aaron, he’d thought he could see Bucky wavering.

Bucky loves you, and as much as he hates that you love him, Steve, he can’t fight that. Steve can’t understand Bucky’s resistance.

Of course, Steve doesn’t want to share you either. You were his firsts. Maybe not officially, but in every way other than sexual, you’d been his. You’d fallen asleep in his arms before Bucky’s. You’d stretched out on his bed and spent hours reading or watching shows or movies with him before Bucky was there to do all that with you.

He’d taken you on your first mission. He’d patched up your first wounds. He’d kissed you—yes, he had though you’d been asleep and didn’t know about it—way before he did it to coax Bucky’s jealousy.

He’d held you when you cried. He’d laughed at your jokes. He’d loved you in every way possible without telling you out loud before Bucky even came into the picture.

No. Steve doesn’t want to share you. But you love Bucky. How can he deny you what you want?

Bucky also needs you. More than Steve thinks even Bucky knows.

He needs to give in. He needs to hold onto you. If Steve needs to step aside, he will. If he has to listen to you and Bucky make love for the rest of his life, then he’ll do that. So long as you don’t leave.

Steve understands Bucky. More than he might think. Steve knows that you’re his light. He knows that Bucky can’t really live without you.

He hates to see Bucky struggle. So, he gave in. He surrendered. For you. For Bucky.

While you’d cried and then fallen into a restless sleep, Steve had promised his best friend that he wouldn’t touch you again. He’d stay away. He’d leave when you were a little better and could handle his leaving, and he’d stop interfering.

Bucky had only stared. Searching. Angry, but listening.

Steve can see the admiration in Bucky’s eyes as you take charge right now. You hadn’t been given this mission to lead but you’d taken up the reigns on your own and dove headfirst. You’re so strong. In so many ways.

As you cross towards them again, a dusty cloud of years’ worth of muck kicked up as you move over the filthy warehouse floor, Steve stands up straighter. Bucky across from him, leaning against the steel support beam trying to look as casual as he can with his hands shoved into his pockets, also stands straighter despite his attempts at playing it cool.

Like him, Steve knows that Bucky’s vowed to put all this drama aside. For the mission. For you.

“We hold out until we all reach our targets. We attack at the same time and take who we can. How sure are we that Aaron is going to be at the base and not on the ship?” Steve hasn’t spoken since he boarded the jet.

He’s trying to step back but so is Bucky. That’s not what he wanted.

“There’s no way to know. We spotted him the one time but haven’t seen him since. He could be on either site or neither.” Nat says, standing tall with her arms crossed over her full chest.

“How will we split the teams? Let’s get this going. I want to rip some heads.” Thor declares and you look at him then appraise the rest of the group.

Steve stands a little taller as your eyes scan him and then you speak. “I’ll take point on the base in the city. Tony? You think you can take the ship team?”

“Is that a serious question?” He quips.

“Good.”

“Bruce, you should go with Tony. They’ll need the extra muscle on the ship. It’s a large space.” Steve thinks that’s a good all.

Even with the Hulk tamed, Bruce can throw his weight around well.

“Nat, Wanda, will the two of you also go with Tony?” You order, and before you can speak again, Bucky cuts in.

“Me too.” He says, voice hard and quiet.

Steve can see the uncertain shift in your eyes. The pain that flashes out at Bucky as he stares you down.

For a few horrible seconds, Steve doesn’t breathe. Will this break you? Bucky hasn’t said a word to you. He hasn’t reached out. He’s barely looked at you.

Steve caught you struggling on the jet and now Bucky doesn’t even want to be on mission with you?

The way your mouth opens as if to speak then shuts again with a flex of your jaw, Steve knows that you’re trying hard to keep it together.

“Fine.” You say, your voice hard now too.

What the fuck is Bucky doing? He’s going to drive you away. Is that his plan? He’ll break you. Can’t he see that?

“The rest of you are with me.” You say, disappointment on the furthest fringes of your tone.

Steve knows you’d rather have Bucky with you. Yet, he takes comfort in knowing that he’ll be able to keep his eye on you. Just like old times. He’ll have your back.

Things do not go well. It’s almost as if you’ve offended God…or the Gods. Your mind shoots to Thor chaotically as everything falls apart.

There is no one on the ship.

No one.

Bruce, in controlled Hulk form, Tony, Bucky, Nat, and Wanda search the ship as quickly as possible with the help of Tony’s thermal scans.

The base on the other hand?

It’s packed. There are more guys than the five of you can handle.

For a little bit in the beginning, when Thor barrels through a large heavy iron door to expose what must be nearly three hundred workers in the largest room of the base, you think maybe all isn’t lost.

Thor can handle these guys no problem. You’ve seen him take on more. Worse. Stronger. Faster.

Then the twins show up. White dark chocolate skin, stark platinum blonde hair, piercing red eyes, and evil sneers create a terrifying image.

You’ve never seen them before. Illuminated collars around their necks that glow venom green come undone and then they chase Thor up through the roof and into the dark night skies leaving you, Steve, and Vision to fight fast and hard.

Vision grabs thugs at random, by the neck, then flings them up into the air to watch them drop. He flies down, sweeping long crippling tackles through ten, fifteen guys at once. You and Steve do your best to hold them off.

Steve fairs better, his strength super. You’re skilled, very much so, but you can only move as fast as your body will let you.

Each of the twins is followed by a stream of sunshine yellow light that seems to originate from their hands and feet. This propels them upwards, or that’s what you’d originally guessed.

It reminds you of Wanda but not exactly. The light is too thick. Solid. Like those lasers from Tron but that’s not possible because that’s just a movie.

And yet, when Sam goes tumbling out of the sky as he attempts to help Thor fight the twins, his wings hit a line of light and impossibly, inexplicably, the wings are severed. Halfway along their length, the left wing is clipped, and Sam goes tumbling down towards the ground. Too high. Too far.

Vision breaks away from you and Steve to intercept his fall, but he’s suddenly tackled out of flight by one of the twins, streaming across the large room and into a wave of thugs.

“Sam! Your chute!” You shout, scared and desperate for him as he falls.

He grows closer and when he talks you can hear the wind whistling past him.

He’ll die.

“I’m trying. It’s jammed!” He cries, his voice strong and controlled despite the panic that must be coursing through him.

There are grunts and pulls, punches, kicks, the occasional gunshot, as the thugs continue to attack you.

You fight harder. You somehow make yourself move faster.

“Steve, catch him!” You shout, desperate for Sam.

“We’re almost there.” Tony’s voice comes over your comms. He’s within range.

The hesitancy in Steve’s choice to do as you ask is so quick that no one would have noticed it. You see it because you know him. You love him. You know what he’s thinking.

I won’t leave you alone. He thought. Then he probably played the argument over in his head and realized that you’d dive underneath Sam and kill yourself in the process if it would mean his survival.

What other choice does he have than to do as you ask?

He sprints off towards Sam, leaping through a large broken window on the second floor. You glance him as he catches Sam, crashing into the ground outside.

Sixty thugs break away, race towards them to take advantage of the fall.

“Vision get back to Y/N.” Steve orders.

Vision is busy. You can see him shooting yellow beams at thug after thug. You hear the sing of his light, the sizzle of it’s burn. You smell the char of skin accompanied by the cries of pain.

He’s all the way on the other side of the large factory-like room.

“Vision!” Steve shouts, his fear for you more prominent than he probably means it to be.

You’re too busy to respond or react to his struggle. You’re dripping with sweat. Beads of effort build along your temples and forehead and trickle down along your skin, coating it with grime as dust is kicked up by your feet and that of your opponents.

You’re huffing with exhaustion already. Your arms are tired. Your legs are weak from taking so many hits. Blocking and returning. Your legs are suddenly yanked out from beneath you.

You scream.

“Y/N!” Steve calls out.

“I’m going.” Thor assures him that he’s on his way to you. “Gah!”

He’s knocked off course by the twin he’s been fighting, unable to get to you.

You get back to your feet, blocking punches and kicks before one lands hard on your chest. It sends you flying back. You gasp for air and loud heavy thud echoes around you.

The ringing in your ears is so distracting that although you lift up your hands to fight, you blink hard and try to remember where you are.

Someone throws a punch, a no one. You block it with your left forearm, then throw a hard right hook. It’s too strong, your arm moving lazily towards its target with zero control in strength.

The movement spins you to your left and you stumble backwards until strong arms catch you.

Your heart soars.

Bucky. You think with relief then shift your head back to look at your man to find your mark.

Aaron, Hawaiian God. Mass murderer. Crime lord. Not Bucky. Not Steve.

He smirks at you, gleeful that he’s caught you. The thugs around you move away, running towards Vision and Sam and Steve.

You can hear people calling you on your earpiece, but your head won’t focus.

Why?

There’s a flash of a memory. Your head violently hitting a large steel support beam. The explosion in your brain as you’re concussed, and green eyes transfix your addled mind as you pass out.

You dream of a snake with sea-green eyes. It hisses and laughs. Ssss-sss-ssssss.

Bucky can feel Bruce’s loud cry reverberate in his chest. It shakes his heart and reminds him that it’s there. Not like he could ever really forget.

Hearing Steve’s panic over the comms trying to get any one of his team members back to where you’d been fighting fills Bucky with dread. It chokes his heart. It aches painfully with a fear unlike he’s ever known.

Where are you?

He scans the room as Bruce stampedes through, swinging and making bodies fly. He tears through them like they were made of paper and he can begin to hear shouts of fear. The large group of thugs begin to run, making for exits and windows and holes in the walls.

Tony flies off to help Thor with what looks like twin men, sickly thing with dark skin and glowing eyes. Wanda and Vision join him while Nat, Steve, Bucky, and Sam meet in the middle of the large factory room where you’d been fighting.

“Where is she?!” Steve asks, screaming desperate and fearful.

Bucky’s stomach twists at the sound of terror in Steve’s cry because it’s his cry too.

“Where is she?! Nat? Do you see her?” Steve is fighting through the crowd, Sam pushing and punching.

Nat kicking and spinning her way towards the spot where Steve is standing.

“No.” Nat replies, grunting as she catches a thug in the chest with her knee then plunges a knife into his thigh as he tries to kick.

“Sam?”

“Nothing this way, Steve.”

“Bucky?”

But Bucky can’t answer his voice is caught in his throat. It’s a lump, building rapidly into grief and denial as he tries to convince his mind that what he thinks has happened hasn’t really happened.

He angrily grabs a thug’s throat as he runs by. He squeezes, the plates in his metal arm groaning and shifting as he glares up at the low life.

“Where is she?” He says low and angry. There’s death in his tone.

The thug claws at Bucky’s hand unable to fight it. He shakes his head and Bucky can’t help it. He squeezes too hard. He hears a sickening crack and then drops the limp body to the floor.

Steve finds him and he looks over Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky catches another thug.

“Where is she?” He asks again.

“Buck?” Steve asks, desperate for reassurance.

The second thug also has no answers for him. Bucky squeezes again.

As this body falls to the ground, Steve reaches out to turn Bucky towards him.

Bucky lets him. He meets his eyes, Steve standing with both hands gripping the sides of Bucky’s shoulders. He’s heaving, breathing hard and heavy from his fight to find you. He’s sweating and dirty and he fought hard while Bucky was stuck on some decoy ship doing nothing and letting you get taken.

“Buck?” Steve asks, searching his ice blues for that assurance that everything is going to be okay.

Bucky can’t give it to him, and he lets the mask fall for a second as he sees the same heartache and agony mirrored in Steve’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something that might alleviate this black cloud over them as the last of the thugs are chased out by Bruce.

Instead his lower lip quivers and Steve falls to his knees.

“No.” Steve gasps.

“He took her.” Bucky realizes. He knew it the moment that you stopped responding to their calls. He knew it when you sent Steve to catch Sam. He knew that you wouldn’t be here when he arrived, and he can’t believe he left you alone.

If he’d been here, if he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he’d been willing to just try to accept that Steve—this broken man clutching at his feet as he struggles to breathe and what must be an astounding feeling of failure—loved you just as much as he did and that he had as much right to show it as he himself did, then you’d still be here.

You’d have had both of them at your side and when Steve had gone to save Sam, Bucky would have been there to keep you safe.

“No.” Steve cries. Really cries. His voice hitches. His hands are vices around Bucky’s ankles as he clings desperately to the only piece of you left. “Buck…no.”

Bucky falls to his knees to but to straighten Steve up. He can’t have him like this.

“We’ll get her back, Steve.” He promises him.

“We don’t even know where to start looking.” Steve points out and Bucky can see the dead in his eyes.

Now he can see what you’ve been meaning, what you’ve been saying Steve is to you. For the first time since this whole mess started, Bucky can see how much more claim Steve has on you and strangely, it doesn’t hurt.

It makes him feel better that someone on this team will be more desperate than him to find you. Someone else on this team will sacrifice life and limb to get you back.

“You’re not alone, Steve.” Bucky tells him, giving him a shake. “We’ll get her back. Together.”

Someone is talking. Someone is speaking directly to you as if you’re capable of listening. Never mind the fact that you’ve been completely unconscious until this moment.

Aaron.

“-trust easily. It’s nothing personal. I just need to make sure that you can’t punch me. Are the straps too tight?” He asks, deep booming voice actually concerned.

You feel tugs at your wrists as he checks large nylon straps. They’re thick and to Steve and Bucky and almost all of your friends they would be nothing but to you, a human, with no real super strength, they’re enough.

“Where-?”

“You’re on my ship.” He replies, a smile in his voice.

It’s like his statement brings to attention the gentle swaying, the smell of brine, and the groan of metal in water.

It creeps you out how he sounds like he’s making conversation with an old friend. Someone he can joke around with and have some fun.

In his defense, the last time you’d seen him face-to-face, he’d been about to eat you out.

“There was no one on the ship.” You say, confused.

“Oh, not that ship. That was a fake. I put it there in case someone like you and your team came lookin’ for me.” Aaron explains.

You open your eyes and the dim light of a light far away lets you see him. He’s big. Bigger than you remember but that might just be because it’s been a while. Tall. Beautiful copper tanned skin. Long wavy brown hair. Longer than Bucky’s. Tips bleached from too much sun. His beard is thick, well-kept, but longer than when you last saw him. Fuller.

He’s shirtless, tendrils of soft black chest hair scattered over his hard, flexing pectorals.

He’s slouched. Completely relaxed. The flesh of his stomach folded over though even with that small bit of extra muscle and tissue, you can see the chiseled shape of his abs.

Leaning forward, he spreads his legs wide wearing dark pants that look fairly new. He places his hands between his legs. He grips the edge of the chair, curling his shoulders in as he appraises you. He’s too at ease.

Is he not scared you’ll be found? Are you seriously in trouble here?

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re an Avenger? I guess I should have put it together when I woke up the next morning and I couldn’t find my drive. You cost me a lot of money on that Cayman trip.” He informs you.

You stare at him, assessing your options quickly. How can you get out of this?

“How long have I-?”

“Two weeks. You know, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me that. I guess you hit your head pretty hard. I don’t have a doctor on board but as soon as I can get you one, I will.” He promises.

Why is he being so nice.

“You’re new to them, right? Haven’t been part of them long? I’ve never seen you before.” He gets up and moves towards a small metal table bolted down into the floor and against the half black, half red metal wall.

“Yes.” You lie, never mind that you’ve been on many missions with Steve and Nat and the rest of the team. You’d just been kept out of the big ones.

Stupid protective, lovable jerks.

“I knew there was something…that night in my place?” He moves back to you holding a small glass of water.

Your body craves it, almost aches for it.

As he holds it to your lips you push yourself up as much as you can take frantic sips.

You cough, choking on it a little. He takes the glass away and you hate him for it.

“Take it easy. I’ve got plenty of water.” He places the edge back against your lips and this time you’re careful. “So, I don’t know what drug you used to get me to pass out that night but did we-?”

Seriously?! You think, this guy is actually asking you if you slept with him?

Inspiration strikes and as he pulls the now empty glass away from your lips, you nod slowly.

“We did.” You tell him.

He believes you. He puts the glass on a smaller table also bolted down to the floor beside your infirmary bed then licks his lips and leans in closer, hovering over you with is arms on either side of your chest.

“Why did you leave?” He asks, desperate to understand.

“I-I was scared they’d come looking for me. I used to do things for bad people, and they don’t trust me.” The lies come easy. Doing bad things for bad people isn’t a lie, but it’s been much longer than you’re making it seem.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighs, reaching up to smooth the hair away from your face.

It clings to your temples, clammy skin coated in sweat. This is when you realize that you’re not exactly well.

“I’m scared.” You shudder, letting your real fear for your health surface and make your words true.

“Sshh, shhh, I’ve got you, baby.” He traces the shape of your shoulders.

You don’t want to push it too soon because it’ll make him suspicious, but he’s already so primed for it. Fearfully, you throw it out there to see if he’ll take the bait. You pray that Bucky won’t be angry at you for using this tactic that he hates so much.

Then you remember that Bucky is mad at you and that he probably doesn’t care about what you do.

The urge to survive this almost slips away but you know you’re better than that. You can live in a world where Bucky hates you, so long as you know he’s out there. You push through the depression that threatens to overtake you and stick to your plan.

“Can I hold you?” You wonder, pulling against the straps on your wrists. “I want you.”

Voice soft as silk, alluring, and pleading. You shift your hips, rubbing your thighs together as if you’re actually itching to have him fill you again—never mind that he never did.

He takes note of this, his hand wandering down your side and onto your hip where his eyes stay glued as he watches you squirm.

“Please?” You beg and he likes that so much he give a guttural grunt as he looks back up at you and climbs up onto your bed.

You feel frail and breakable. His large body looming over yours sends your heart into overdrive. Will he hurt you?

He touches you, and you try not to flinch away. You make sure to shift your disgust into desire, letting him cup your mound despite the way it makes you want to throw up. That could also be the malnutrition.

“You want this baby?” He asks, wafting hot breath against the cool clammy skin of your throat.

“Yeah.” You lie, hoping that it sounds real. “Let me hold you.”

You strain against your straps and he sits back, removing his hand from between your legs.

You’re filled with relief as he undoes your left hand strap and because you don’t want him to be suspicious, you use that hand to grab his shoulder and yank him down against your chest. You wrap it around him, holding him to you as his lips find yours and you kiss him hard.

As hard as you can anyway.

The taste of his tongue is salted and sour. You nearly gag but instead you groan. You need to get him off of you, get the rest of the straps off, get out the door, and up onto the deck of the ship. Then you can look for a plane or another boat…something. Anything.

You’ll float home if you have to.

As his tongue delves more deeply into his mouth, the heat of his skin bringing shocking attention to the lack of it in you, you suddenly bite down.

Aaron gasps and tries to pull back, but you’ve got a solid hold on him. He pushes against your shoulders and you follow him up as best you can as your teeth dig in deeper.

Your teeth finally snap shut. Aaron screams in pain and you taste rust.

Aaron scrambles off of you and falls onto the floor, kicking and pushing away from your bed and you spit out the pink wiggling flesh. Your mouth is flooded with blood and it drips from your mouth as you quickly undo the straps holding you down.

When you’re finally on your feet, you wobble, but not because of the sway of the ship. You’re weaker than you realized.

“Shit.” You gasp and grab a small metal tray beside your bed.

Aaron doesn’t see the hit coming and you knock him out saving him from the pain of his half-tongue but also giving yourself time to get away.

Weakly you run out of the room giving the hallways you run through quick looks before you venture into them.

You’ve been expecting to encounter thugs but there’s no one. Only empty rooms and the rotting smell of fish.

You have to stop to rest when you find the stairs and catch your breath. Two seconds is all you spare because the fear of Aaron waking up and coming after you is overwhelming.

You scrape up your bare feet as you climb the stairs as quickly as you can. At the top you find a heavy steel doorway with one of those large circular handles to seal compartments in ships from flooding.

Weakly you manage to turn it and hot salty air fills your lungs as the door falls open. Gray overcast skies and black blue water surround the ship.

You push it, itching for freedom and as you tumble out your foot catches on the bottom threshold. You fall hard, feeling a break somewhere in your leg.

You cry out, hoping that all of Aaron’s thugs are not up here.

“Y/N!”

No. It’s impossible. Your eyes strain against the bright light of the day and try to see where that voice came from.

Halfway down the much smaller ship’s deck but still as big as an oil tanker, you see Bucky fling a black mass of body overboard.

He races towards you at the same time and you frantically push yourself up onto your feet.

Forgetting your brand-new break, you collapse when you try to put your weight on your right foot but Bucky’s already there and he catches you. His arms are hot and tight around you, the smell of him—bitter sweat mixed with his usual clean linen and sandalwood musk—is intoxicating. You can hardly believe he’s real.

“I found you.” He gasps, shocked as if he’d never expected to see you again. “I found you.”

You look for his face, wanting nothing more than to stare into his steel blue eyes. He pushes your hair back, almost like Aaron had but there’s a desperate love in his hands as he holds your face and you want him to kiss you and hold you and tell you that you’re safe.

He does one of those.

He scoops you up suddenly and impossibly fast he carries you across the ship’s deck, winding around containers and piping until he reaches the stern and you can see the large black jet.

“Steve!” Bucky calls, and you’re so confused but Steve is suddenly there too. His arms are around you, and as he falls to the ground onto his knees, Bucky moves with him and carefully places you in Steve’s arms.

Steve holds you close, against his chest, clinging to you as he sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He cries but you don’t want him to be sorry.

Your heart soars as he pulls your lips up to meet his and then he buries his head into the side of your neck as he continues to sob, his blonde head of hair damp from the spray of the sea.

Bucky, also kneeling beside you, leans in to rest his forehead against your temple.

“I found you.” He repeats.

You turn to look at him, searching his face for explanation but he kisses you instead. Softly massaging your lips before he trails loving kisses down along your cheeks.

Then he wraps his arms around you and Steve.

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Viral Wisdom

Summary: When Peter’s dentist decides the kid’s impacted wisdom teeth need to go, Tony offers to have the surgery done at the compound. Honestly, Peter is looking forward to it. After all, he’s seen the viral videos—he’s pretty sure he knows what to expect.

What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 2700

Genre: Hurt/comfort, whump, minor surgery, fluff

A/N: Thanks to @sallyidss and @xxx-cat-xxx for beta reading!

Link to read on Ao3

“You’ve gotta video it, Mr. Stark,” Peter says between bites of the pizza he’s currently wolfing down as part of what he and Tony have jokingly dubbed ‘The Last Supper’. The kid will be getting all four of his wisdom teeth removed at eight o’clock sharp the next morning, and being a teenage boy with an absurdly fast enhanced metabolism means Peter has decided the twelve-hour mandatory fasting period before surgery will be the worst part of the whole procedure.

Tony raises his eyebrows in mock offense. “Oh I’ve gotta, do I?”

Peter grins. “Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “It’s gonna be awesome. Ned’s cousin got hers out last December, and when she woke up she was so high from the anesthesia that she started accusing the dentist of stealing her teeth and selling them to the tooth fairy on the black market.” He sticks the last bite of his pizza slice in his mouth. “Her mom filmed it and the video went like, viral.”

“You know,” Tony remarks. “Hate to burst your bubble, kid, but I got my wisdom teeth out during my senior year at MIT and I don’t remember anything like this happening. Just a lot of eating applesauce and mashed potatoes while resembling Alvin the Chipmunk.”

“No, no it’s a thing,” Peter insists. “These videos are like, everywhere. I saw this one where this lady woke up and forgot she was married but suddenly noticed her wedding ring and started freaking out, thinking her husband had just proposed. But they had been married already for like, three years.”

Shaking his head, Tony huffs. “You are literally a superhero with a secret identity and you think it’s a good idea to get wildly high on medication and then have me film whatever crap comes out of your mouth so you can post it on, what, Facebook?”

“Ha, Facebook,” Peter snorts as he reaches for another slice. “Good one, Mr. Stark. No one uses Facebook anymore.”

X

The next morning, Peter’s not looking quite as excited as he was the previous night. He sits beside Tony in a plastic chair just inside the compound’s Medbay, anxiously texting back and forth with Ned as they wait for the SHIELD appointed oral surgeon and his assistant to finish prepping the procedure room.

When Peter’s dentist decided several weeks back that the impacted teeth had to go, Tony and May agreed it would have to be done at the compound. Peter’s enhanced physiology means that the dosage of anesthesia required to put him out could also take down a moderately-sized elephant. HIPAA protection or not, Tony would rather not have any raised eyebrows from standard medical professionals.

“You hanging in there?” Tony asks casually. The kid’s foot hasn’t stopped tapping once since they sat down and he’s wondering if Peter’s beginning to regret telling May he’d be fine doing this solo while she’s at work. “Ready to make, what is it then, Vine history?”

That remark elicits a short laugh from Peter. “Vine’s dead, Mr. Stark,” he informs. “It was the true tragedy of this generation.”

Tony sighs, exasperated. “Is it YouTube then? Reddit?”

Peter just shrugs. “Something like that.” His gaze lowers back to his lap and he fires off another text to Ned.

FRIDAY’s voice comes over the speakers, so sudden that it startles the kid and nearly causes him to drop the phone: “Dr. Jacobson is ready for you now, Peter.”

“Oh. Already? Wow, okay,” Peter babbles. “Not even 8:00 yet, no need to rush...” he complains as he pockets the phone.

Tony checks his watch. “It’s 7:58, kid,” he scoffs, getting to his feet. “Perks of being the only patient in the building.”

After a second’s hesitation, Peter stands as well and Tony frowns at the shakiness he observes. “You good?” he checks, lightly gripping the kid’s elbow just in case he decides to channel his inner Victorian lady. “I know your blood sugar’s gotta be low, but I promise, as soon as this is over, it’s all the ice cream and pudding you want.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll be good,” Peter says half-heartedly.

Tony gives his back a little prod to encourage him toward the door. “C’mon kid. Let’s get a move on. Upward and onward and all that jazz...”

Swallowing hard, Peter begins shuffling forward with Tony guiding him along. “So, I’ve never, um, actually had anesthesia before,” he admits. “And, like, what if something… goes wrong?"

Tony softens, for the first time seeing the actual fear lurking beneath Peter’s façade. “Don’t worry—these guys know what they’re doing,” he assures, giving the kid’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Lips pursed, Peter nods a few times. “Yeah. Yeah of course. Okay. I guess I’ll just, go on back there and, uh...“

“Do you want me to stay until they put you under?” Tony offers.

A look of relief instantly washes over Peter and he nods vigorously before stopping to quickly add in a tone of forced nonchalance, “But like, only if you don’t mind.”

Tony chuckles. “I think I can swing it.”

X

The IV placement is a little rough. Peter’s never been a fan of needles, but Tony distracts him by telling him to close his eyes and recite the second row of the periodic table. Once the saline is flowing, the assistant places an oxygen cannula under his nose.

Peter glances up at the dentist. “So, have you ever had someone say something, like, really inappropriate when they wake up?” he asks.

Jacobson chuckles drily. “Oh yes. I actually have a very amusing anecdote about that.”

Both Tony and Peter look at him expectantly, but the doctor just continues preparing his instruments.

“So, uh, what happened?” Peter asks finally.

Jacobson’s eyes narrow. “That is confidential information.”

Peter blinks at him. “Oh. Uh, of course.”

While the surgeon moves over to grab something from the counter, the assistant—a woman probably in her early thirties whose name badge reads ‘Megan’—gives a small laugh. “Don’t worry,” she says. “It can’t make you say anything you weren’t already thinking on some level.”

Peter gulps. “Great.” Turning to Tony, he says, “Uh, you know, on second thought, maybe we don’t need this on video…”

Tony huffs out a laugh. “Oh no, no take backs. In about an hour, you’ll be trending on Twitter. Or wherever the hell this is going.”

Before Peter can say anything, Megan gives a warning of, “Alright, here we go.” Then she injects the anesthesia into the IV port.

The effect is nearly instantaneous. “Whoa…” Peter mutters, shooting his mentor a nervous look. “Feels… weird.”

“You’re fine, Pete,” Tony promises. “I’ll be waiting right outside until you wake up.”

“Yeah…” he breathes out, eyelids drooping. “And ’s’goin’ on Instagram, Mr. Stark…”

A few moments later, the kid is out.

X

“Boss, the surgery is complete,” FRIDAY’s voice comes over the speakers in the waiting area. “The extractions went well. Peter has just regained consciousness and has been transferred to the recovery area.”

“Thanks, FRI.” Getting to his feet from the plastic chair, Tony closes out of the Minesweeper app on his phone and opens the camera one instead. “Guess it’s showtime…”

Already filming, Tony pushes open the door and makes his way back to the small room off to the side of the procedure area. Peter is sitting propped up on a cot as Megan drapes a blanket over him. Tightly rolled wads of cotton are sticking out of his mouth and his eyes are droopy and unfocused.

The assistant gives Tony a small smile. “He did great,” she assures in a quiet voice. “We’ll be right in the other room cleaning up if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Tony tells her before turning his attention back to Peter and pulling up one of the stools to sit on. “Hey kid,” he greets. “How’s life with four gaping holes in your face?”

“Uhhh… M’s’r St’rk?” Peter manages to mumble, blinking a few times.

“The one and only,” Tony replies, his camera still trained on the kid. “Any dental conspiracy theories you wanna share with the audience? Declarations of affection you care to make?”

Peter’s face screws up into a weak sort of frown. “Wha…?”

Tony shakes his head slowly, chuckling to himself. “See, what’d I tell you, kid? Anesthesia just isn’t that exciting.”

“Uhhgg…” Peter groans, blinking again. The kid’s expression of utter confusion coupled with his already swelling cheeks is honestly adorable. “I-I don’t… I feel weird, I…”

Smirking, Tony focuses the camera a little closer on Peter’s face, ready to film whatever drug-induced ramblings pour forth from the kid’s lips.

But then all of a sudden, he’s watching tears well up in Peter’s eyes.

Tony’s grin falters. “Pete?”

“Oh god…” Peter draws in a shuddering breath, which comes back out in a choked sob. “I-I didn’... I can’t… I don’ like this...”

All traces of humor immediately dissolve from Tony. “Whoa, hey, you’re alright,” he says. As Peter continues to cry, Tony turns off the camera and shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. Scooting closer to the bed, he takes the kid’s hand. “You’re fine, you’re okay.”

“I-I don’ feel... I, uh...” Peter chokes out between sobs. A bloody wad of cotton falls out of his mouth, which only causes him to cry harder. “Wh-Why ’m I bleedin’?” he cries.

“You just had a few teeth out, no biggie,” Tony assures. He grabs a fresh cotton roll from the table and sticks it in the kid’s mouth. “You’re fine, bud, I promise.”

Still crying, Peter manages to spit out, “Am I... is this… real?”

Tony’s heart clenches, going back to Titan, back to Peter being trapped for five years in some kind of altered state of consciousness. He’s kicking himself for not having realized sooner that something like this might freak him out.

“Ah, kid…” Tony sighs. “Yes, this is real. You’re real. You’re right here with me,” he promises, rubbing his hand up and down over the kid’s arm.

Suddenly Peter’s breath hitches in his throat. “‘m gonna throw up,” he chokes out.

The warning is immediately followed by an unproductive gag. Tony mutters a curse, jumping up and grabbing a plastic emesis basin from the counter. He barely manages to get it under Peter’s chin before the kid makes good on his threat.

“Hey, hey, easy, easy...” Tony says, switching to hold the bin with one hand and place the other on Peter’s back. He winces in sympathy at the bloody cotton and red-tinged strings of bile Peter is spitting out between sobs; he can only imagine how much that has to hurt. “FRIDAY, can you get the doc back in here?” he asks in a low voice.

Pulling in a shuddering breath, Peter glances up from the basin, eyes wide and fearful. “I th-threw up b-blood,” he whimpers, horrified. “...’m I dyin’?”

Aw fuck. “No, no of course not. It’s just from your mouth,” Tony explains, much more calmly than he feels.

The door reopens and Megan is the first to enter. She gives Peter a sympathetic smile as she steps into the room. The surgeon appears a few steps behind, looking totally unfazed by the teary, vomiting teen in the chair before him.

“Ah,” he says with a nod. His tone is factual, though not unkind. “We have a crier.”

“This just happens sometimes, nothing to worry about,” Megan quickly assures. She takes the bin from Tony and hands him an empty one before carefully wiping the tears and vomit off Peter’s face with a paper towel. “Anesthesia can have all kinds of different effects on people.”

Jacobson hums in agreement as he checks Peter’s mouth to ensure his stitches are still holding before giving him fresh gauze to stem the bleeding. The tears have stopped now and embarrassment seems to be rapidly replacing fear as the kid’s primary emotion. Unsure of what else to do, Tony just continues rubbing Peter’s back.

“Everything looks fine,” Jacobson concludes after a moment of looking him over. “You can take him back upstairs now. He’ll probably feel calmer once he’s in a familiar setting.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice. “Sounds good,” he says, grabbing the paper Megan hands him with the discharge instructions as he helps Peter to his feet. “Alright bud,” he says quietly. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

X

After getting Peter situated on the couch in the common area, Tony heads to the kitchen and returns with a tray of soft food selections to offer the kid.

“What are you feeling?” he asks, pointing to each food in turn. “Yogurt? Ice cream? Applesauce? Pudding?”

Peter blinks twice at him. “...Butterscotch puddin’?” he asks hopefully.

Tony scoffs. “No, because I’m not eighty. I’ve got chocolate or vanilla.”

“Oh.” Peter’s face falls. “Don’ want anythin’ then…”

“Nope, not an option,” Tony declares. “You have to take your super spidey-kid painkillers soon and I don’t want them to make you sick.”

“But I ‘ready got sick…” Peter moans.

“And it wasn’t fun, was it?” Tony reasons. “Which is why we’re trying to avoid that.”

“But ‘m not hungry…” Peter whines, turning his head away from his mentor to face the cushion, causing the ice pack to side down from his cheek. “Jus’ wanna sleep…”

Tony peels the lid off one of the vanilla pudding cups and scoops up a spoonful. “C’mon, Pete.” He says, holding it in front of the kid’s closed mouth. “You’re not gonna make me do the airplane thing, are you? Because I will definitely be filming that.”

“Uhhh… no...” Peter groans, finally taking the spoon from him. “No more internet…”

X

It’s been several hours now since Tony managed to bully the kid into choking down enough pudding to take his meds before letting him fall asleep. Aside from the obvious swelling, Peter’s looking far better for having had the nap.

“How are you feeling now?” Tony asks, handing Peter a fresh ice pack.

Peter accepts it from him and presses it to his comically large cheek. “Mortified,” he mumbles. “This is so not going on Instagram…”

Tony huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know, maybe it should. Like a PSA of sorts for all the kids out there looking to be the next viral sensation.”

“Wonderful,” Peter mutters, rolling his eyes.

Tony pats him on the shoulder. “You know, while you were out, I was looking up some of those videos you mentioned. I see the attraction. Did you watch the one where the black med student called pickled eggs a ‘hood snack’?”

Peter nods.

“Or the red-haired teenager who woke up thinking he was a gangster in Dubai?” Tony goes on.

“Classic,” Peter mutters.

“Or the girl who wanted to go swimming in the painting on the office wall so she could see the fishes?”

Peter waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah…”

“I’m telling you kid, I think there’s a market here…”

X

It’s two days later that Tony finally breaks down and shows the kid the video Rhodey took of him back in ‘87, burned directly off the VHS into FRIDAY’s archives:

A teenage Tony Stark sits on the floor of his dorm room, slumped against a twin-sized mattress. His cheeks are swollen to twice their usual size and drool is running down his chin onto the graph paper notebook he’s scribbling feverishly into.

“Tony, you gotta eat something so you can take your meds, dude,” Rhodey’s voice comes over the recording from off-screen.

“Go ‘way…” Tony groans, waving him off irritably. “‘m busy solvin’ th’… prob’em…”

Rhodey breathes out a heavy sigh. “Okay, for the last time, you can’t ‘solve’ the second law of thermodynamics.” He pauses for a beat. “Especially with a purple crayon.”

Tony looks up at him, eyes unfocused, and gives an almost evil grin. “Maybe you can’t but… I’m… ‘m’ really smart…” He blinks twice, then giggles. “m’ Tony Fuckin’ Stark…”

“Yeah, yeah, and Tony Fucking Stark needs to take his meds...” Rhodey mutters. “So what’s it gonna be, dude? Yogurt or applesauce?”

Tony’s face screws up in apparent thought before he mumbles, “A cheese’urger,” he decides. “Then I solve… gravity.”

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