#who said yeah mint lets print this

[the44magnumisamonster]

WHAT WAS THE REASON

BITCH WHAT WAS THE REASONNNNN!?!

[rookfeatherrambles]

Wrote zero words yesterday and 808 today

Also wrote my first ever Tim Dialogue yeyyyyy

I have zero idea how to write any of these characters AHA anyway THAT is under the cut lol

Martin lets a smile uplift his lips in the gloom as he unwraps an oat bar. “He just - breezed in, right past me without scanning his id, said he was looking for a book to borrow and that he’d bring it right back. I followed him, because of course I did - those books were important and some of them were really old, and -”

He takes a bite of the bar. Its sweetness is like a balm on his tongue, but it also sets off anxiety jittering in his belly. Thinking about Tim makes him miss his boyfriend terribly. Martin has to remind himself that he will see Tim again. And Sasha. He will get through this night.

He swallows, and continues.

“He picked out a book, one of the ones that wasn’t supposed to leave the library under any circumstance, and tried to get past me again!”

Martin can remember their meeting like it was yesterday. Tim was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt that was far too loud for the quiet, muted tones of the library, and his smile was like the sun. He was all confident in how he walked, talked and even when trying to skirt around Martin.

“What are you even researching?” Martin had snapped in exasperation, reduced to blocking the library door with his bulk because Tim wasn’t stopping for him or anyone, cheery as he was about it. “What could possibly be so important that you have to break the rules for it?”

And Tim, his eyes gleaming, leaned forward with an expression like he was about to share the building’s juiciest gossip and whispered conspiratorially: “Incubi.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Tim went on, a big grin on his face. “Someone came in claiming to have gotten pregnant by an angel!”

Martin remembers staring open-mouthed. Not with awe, as Tim liked to recount it. Martin was, in fact, flabbergasted.”That’s - Incubi are demons,” He pointed out, and Tim shrugged. “Well, yeah. Angels don’t exist, so I need a book on demonology -” He held up the book, gave it a little shake.

And Martin, who was pretty done with this whole interaction and really needed a tea break, let his scepticism slip. “You don’t think an angel impregnated that woman, but a demon might have??”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “Look, I'm doing my due diligence! I’m not certain it wasn’t a demon, so can I have the book or what? I promise to get it back to you in mint condition.”

Martin broke. “...Fine. But sign it out first. I don’t want to get reprimanded for your mistake.”

Tim’s expression was all smiles again. “Aye-Aye, captain!” He gave him a salute and then proceeded to tuck the book under his arm and scribbled his initials on the paper before passing the book under the scanner. When it beeped, Martin reluctantly moved aside. “Mint condition,” he told Tim on the man’s way out. “I’m holding you to that!”

“On my honour and my life,” Tim replied gravely, hand over his heart, before spinning on his heel and running off with a wave and a “Thanks, mate!”

Martin had sighed and retreated to the staff room for a break and a cuppa sorely needed.

[narkik]

hi! i'm the anon who asked if i could write a fic based on this gifset! tysm again for letting me take a stab at it. :)

(cw: mild suicidal ideation, implied sexual harassment at the workplace, mentions of PTSD)

Bucky’s thinking about plane crashes, and potential ways to kill himself mid-air with whatever TSA allowed in his carry-on if one happened today, when he hears a, “Is this seat taken?” out of an atrociously hot man. He’d be thirty times hotter without the mustache–the style of which belongs squarely in porn–but facial hair can’t hide the whole of his features. Bucky blinks at the guy, stuck on suicide. “Yeah,” he manages, after his voice catches up to him. Bucky scoots back, assuming Hot Pornstache wants to drag the chair elsewhere, but the guy just smiles wide and plops down beside him. “Thanks, man. Airports, huh? Way too crowded for a Tuesday.”

Bucky tries to laugh. Then he tries, inconspicuously, to fix his hair. It’s a lot harder when it’s this long but if he has to go to a barber he’ll have a panic attack and an identity crisis at the same time from looking at himself that long. Anyways, Pierce says long hair looks good on Bucky, when he’s not flip-flopping on its professionalism. “Flights are cheaper on Tuesday. I think. I dunno.” He feels himself wilt a little, inwardly, stomach spiraling. So much for a fun flirt before his flight. Bucky contemplates suicide again, staring at the ice swirling in his cup.

Mustache Man laughs politely, but he’s not looking at Bucky. He’s waving down a bartender, who smiles back at him immediately. Bucky deflates even more. Why bother? Hot guys are visibly hot, even with terrible facial hair. Probably straight, too. “Can I get a–” he hears the guy say, and the bartender–who is pretty, slight, nodding fervently–is already grabbing a glass. The jangle of ice is a little too loud for Bucky. He winces; looks away. But then the pretty bartender is staring pointedly at him, and so is Hot Guy. “I said, ‘Do you want anything?’” His tone is kind. Patient. “S’okay if not. I’m getting a Long Island.”

Bucky’s head swims. “Mojito,” he blurts, because it’s the first thing he can think of. The girl swipes a fresh glass and begins making his drink, with an equal level of enthusiasm as Pornstache’s. Then, like he’d heard Bucky’s train of thought, Pornstache reaches out a long, calloused hand. “Steve,” he announces, with the kind of confidence that only comes from the diaphragm, “it’s a pleasure. And you are…?”

“Bucky.” Bucky can’t entirely believe the way this is going. But, fuck it. He’s got thirty minutes before boarding. Plus, with the tiny plane he’s taking, there’s guaranteed to be a delay. Rumlow and Rollins and the rest of the team are lingering somewhere near their gate, and Pierce isn’t even on this transport, so Bucky can have some alcohol. The bartender deposits their orders down on printed coasters. They’re guaranteed to be horrifically overpriced. Bucky stares at the limp mint leaf in his glass and wishes he’d gotten a Moscow Mule. “Cheers,” says Steve, and Bucky clinks their drinks together.

That could be the end of it, but after Steve swallows, he asks, “So? You headed home?”

Bucky swallows, thickly. The drink is cold in his throat, but nowhere near sharp enough to get him feeling much of anything. “Yeah. Work trip. My, uh. My co-workers are at the gate.”

“Oh? Should we text them? Would they wanna join us?”

Another gay point deducted. Steve is hot, and thoughtful, and nice. And probably not into guys. “Nah, they’re, uh…” Bucky lifts his glass to his mouth, trying to decide on a diplomatic way to describe most of the HYDRA staff. “They’re resting, I think.”

“Fair enough.” Steve doesn’t seem one way or another about it, still jovial. Bucky notices, for the first time, the stout navy suitcase rolled behind Steve’s chair. “I’m starting work, myself. Psyching myself up for it with an overpriced cocktail. Always a good habit to get into, substance abuse.”

Bucky snorts. Some of the guys in his unit had spiraled into heroin after they’d been discharged. It’s a miracle Bucky hadn’t gone down the same route, all things considered. “Yeah, a Long Island Iced Tea. You’re in trouble, pal.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t like flying much.” Steve smiles at Bucky without teeth. It’s a little nervy, and Bucky likes it.

“Me too, man. I mean, I’m terrified of it.” To that, Steve laughs, and Bucky laughs a little too. “I’m serious! I have, uh. I have serious…” He trails off. He doesn’t want to say ‘PTSD’ to a stranger, hot or otherwise. “I fucking hate flying,” Bucky admits, lamely. He’d hoped for a stronger landing than that, but. Whatever.

“Really?” Steve takes another sip. All the veins in his hand stand out. He’s got kind of a heavy blazer on but Bucky can tell Steve is jacked. “Fear of heights?”

“Fear of falling from heights,” Bucky mutters, dousing the upswell of memories with another gulp of mojito. If he had a panic attack at the Skydive Bar & Grill, in front of an attractive stranger, with his coworkers a few feet away, Bucky wouldn’t wait for a plane crash to off himself.

But Steve just nods sympathetically. “I’ve got a fear of shots. I know, I know, don’t look at me like that. I was a real sick kid. Four shots a week, twice a week. No, I’m serious! I was allergic to everything on the panel. Plus asthma, plus vision problems…” He blows a raspberry. “Every flu season my buddy’s gotta drag me to the CVS, or I’ll never get the jab.” Steve leans in and Bucky can see that his top lip is damp and red from the drink. “Real fun for those poor pharmacy techs, having to make sure a grown man doesn’t faint.”

A grin. A beautiful, bashful grin out of a sweet, solid ten-out-of-ten-sans-pornstache. Bucky feels his heart thud. He considers doing something unbearably trashy (Hey, man, you wanna hit the single-stall?) except that he can’t shape that desire into something passably sexy, or convincing. Plus he’s thirty-four, just past the threshold of shit like that being fun and leaning more into depressing. Plus, his flight is about to take off. Plus, his coworkers are here.

He could get Steve’s number. Even his Instagram, or whatever the kids did. But–what would be the point, really? Bucky feels himself spiral. It’s not like he’s had a relationship, or even a decent fuckbuddy, since his discharge. His left arm throbs, suddenly; Bucky shakes it, involuntary. His hope dampens. This is just a nice guy being friendly before a work trip. “Hey, uh,” Bucky talks through the lump in his throat, hating the way Steve’s smile falls, “I should. I should check to see if my flight is boarding.”

“Oh, yeah.” Steve cranes his neck towards a monitor. “Where are you headed again?”

“Uh, Albany. Just outside of it. I mean, it’s a flight of no one.” Bucky’s getting off his chair, rambling, fumbling for his jacket. “Seriously. I’m pretty sure my team’s the only one on it.”

“Uh huh.” Steve watches Bucky scramble. “Your team. You like them?”

Bucky’s slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Then, he remembers his wallet is in the front pocket, so he puts the bag back down to fish it out. “They’re… They’re a team. They’re… Okay to work with. Straightforward.”

“And you like what you do?”

The bag is messier than Bucky would care to admit. It’s been hard getting back into his habits after everything, including his pre-accident penchant for organization. “It’s a job. I’m pretty new to it, honestly. I’m a bodyguard.” Sort of. Kind of? They’d hired him under that circumstance, except everyone in the STRIKE division also had military training. Bucky was mostly ordered to tag along on ‘missions,’ which were elusive and odd but also directionless, in that no one would tell him what he was supposed to be guarding.

Bucky finally finds his wallet, scraped and squished from the pouch he’d kept it in. But Steve is already handing the bartender a thick blue card. Bucky’s stomach spins. “Awh, Steve–”

“I got it, I got it, don’t worry.” Steve has a funny look all of a sudden. Pinched. “It’s on me. You’re the one with the fear of heights, buddy. You need it.”

“Thanks. And, uh. Falling from heights. It’s different.” Bucky stands there, suspended, watching the bartender swipe Steve’s card. He’s not entirely sure of the etiquette here. It makes his skin prickle. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.” Steve claps his hand to Bucky’s in a firm shake. Steve’s eyes are startlingly blue. “Take care, Bucky. Have a safe flight.”

“Yeah, Steve. You too.”

Wanna get dinner? Bucky wants to scream. But that’s not him anymore. He shouldn’t bother. Bucky shuffles away, focusing on the tinkle of cutlery that grows progressively weaker as he gets closer to the gate. People are, in fact, lining up to board. Rumlow and Rollins are in front of the line.

.

Rumlow and Bucky have adjacent seats on the flight. Whatever tiny model of plane this was, it lacked a middle row. Bucky has the aisle seat; Rumlow has the window. “If I gotta piss,” jokes Rumlow, “don’t get out of your seat. Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

Bucky can’t get a grasp on Brock. He’s crude, and gritty, and possibly homophobic. But he’s also the chattiest of the team, and honestly, the nicest. He talks to Bucky when no one will. Bucky just can’t figure out if it's out of genuine friendliness, or if it’s to be cruel. “This flight,” he mutters, changing the subject. “There’s no one here.”

Rumlow swivels his head back to observe the passengers. Bucky catches a whiff of a cologne that smells good, albeit a touch strong. “Huh. You’re right.” He flops back into his seat. “Pierce isn’t gonna like that.”

“Why not?”

“Makes HYDRA look weird. Look, I think it’s all our team.” Rumlow turns back around. “Ey, Jack! Is this whole damn plane us?”

Bucky hears shuffling. “Think so,” someone who is not Rollins returns. “‘Except for the stewardess.”

Brock’s face goes neutral. “Huh.” He turns back around. “Interesting.”

Bucky picks at his seatbelt. They’re about to take off and he’s studiously counting each seam in the nylon weave. “Is there a problem?”

“Maybe,” Rumlow says, in a flat voice. Bucky can’t tell if he’s kidding or not so he continues counting. The first twenty-four rows of stitches have nineteen notches each.

The plane hums forward. The velocity of it makes Bucky dizzy. He hopes he doesn’t puke. He probably should have bought Tums.

“Ey, kiddo,” Rumlow mutters, and Bucky looks up. Rumlow does not look happy. “What is it that you think we do here, at HYDRA?”

If Bucky had to guess this work, it’s somewhere between professional hacking and high-stakes political espionage, but they don’t tell him shit, so he doesn’t have a clue. But Bucky hasn’t been fired yet, and he needs this job. This work, specifically. HYDRA doesn’t care that Bucky doesn’t like to talk or that the battlefield blew him in half–literally, but metaphorically, too–they just care that he looks mean and doesn’t ask questions.

“Nothing, eh?” Rumlow claps the back of Bucky’s neck. He hates the touch but tolerates it, since he doesn’t think Rumlow means anything by it. “Good kid. That’s good. You don’t wanna know, okay? Keep it simple.”

That sends an alarm bell off in Bucky’s hind-brain, already hardwired for danger, made worse since his fall. The redheaded stewardess breezes past him and Bucky wonders how she can walk at an incline. “I promised I wouldn’t ask,” he gets out, because, well, that’s true. Pierce had liked that about him. Bucky thinks, privately, that Pierce probably likes other things about him too, but he’s nervous to broach that suspicion any further. Hydra doesn’t have HR.

“Our most valuable asset,” Rumlow marvels, but it’s in a dry voice. Bucky wants to shrink. They’re far enough in the sky where he can see the unrelenting black of the sky. They’re on the red-eye. It’s five hours to Albany and Bucky had been hoping to sleep through all of it.

“Is there something I should know about the trip?” Bucky really does hate asking. All he’d done was linger around guys in black trucks with computers. Pierce had sent him the weirdest email after the job, praising his performance like he’d been there, but also going on about ‘keeping the future safe,’ or something. Bucky would chalk it up to Pierce’s age, but the man isn’t stupid. Everyone respected him. Apparently, he’d been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. Or declined it? Any way around Pierce is not a fool.

“Yeah.” Rumlow scoffs to himself, a heavy sound. “We should have taken a private jet. Fucking tax auditor.”

Static crackles through the overhead. “Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking. We have now reached cruising altitude–at this time, you may take out any small electronic devices for personal use. Weather’s expected to be clear on our flight to Albany, New York. We’re scheduled to be on time. Thank you for flying with Shield.” The voice blips out. “Oh,” it adds, “and one more thing–”

And, to Bucky’s astonishment, Steve from the Skydive Bar & Grill manifests from the front of the plane, casual as anything. “Listen up,” he announces, and Bucky can feel Rumlow tense beside him, “if you guys wanna make it out of this plane alive, I suggest you hear me out.”

.

i'm not very active on tumblr but i am on twitter! i might continue this fic on ao3 @/narqueen, with op's permission. thanks again! :)

no caption needed 😌

A Stucky au

[fazbear-security]

The arcade was always quiet around the middle of June. The younger children were still in school, and most teenagers would rather spend their freshly-minted summer days playing the larger selection at cabinets at Eglantine’s Arcade Emporium downtown than the paltry few brand-specific games at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

And for the teenaged staff who worked the afternoon shift at the pizzeria, that was just fine.

“So...did you open it yet?” Jeremy Jr. asked as he leaned over the prize counter, looking pointedly at the the manila envelope poking out of his coworker’s unzipped bag sitting against the side of the counter. Said coworker shook her head as she finished tearing open a plastic merchandise bag, and started digging for its contents with one arm.

“Not yet.” Sasha shrugged as she tossed another Foxy plush up towards Ashton, who was balanced on the stepladder to restock the higher shelves. “I'm gonna wait for my break, because if it’s what I think it is, I’m probably going to cry.” She admitted. “And I don’t want to cry on the party floor, you know?”

“It’s not like there’s anybody around to see you, ‘cept us.” Jeremy Jr. grinned wide behind his glasses. “What do you think it is? Is it your college acceptance letter?”

“Pfft. No.” Sasha laughed out loud as she wrestled a child sized Chica doll out of its box and plastic bag next. “I’m not smart enough to skip senior year.”

“B***h, yes you are.” Ashton argued from atop the ladder, ignoring Jeremy Jr.’s hurried hush (”Language!”). “You took the final in three languages last year.”

“Because I failed the first two and Mr. Riggins put in a good word with the principle to get me both retakes.” Sasha set the Chica doll on the counter against the wall and smoothed out a wrinkle in her bib. “Being multilingual doesn’t make you a genius.”

“I disagree.” Ashton made grabby hands at the Chica doll until Sasha tossed it up to him, and he slotted it into the last open spot on the top shelf. “Some people can barely speak one language, you know.”

“Yeah, we call those people ‘customers’.” Jeremy Jr. planted his hands on the countertop and hoisted himself up to sit on the glass, ignoring Ashton’s disapproving glare. “Come on, Sasha! Show us what’s in the envelope! Isn’t it burning a hole through you?”

“Not as much as it is you, apparently.” Sasha lied with a smile. It was, in fact, burning a hole in her. She was sure (95-98%) that she knew what awaited her inside. She didn’t need to double check. She could wait until her lunch break in thirty minutes.

.......

“....okay, fine.” Sasha snatched the envelope out of her bag and climbed up to join Jeremy Jr. on the countertop. Ashton glared at the both of them for getting hand prints all over his nice, clean counter, but only hopped down from the ladder and stood on his toes to look over their shoulders as Sasha broke the seal on the envelope and fished out its contents.

She stared at the papers in silence, for a minute, before beginning to flip through them - checking all the initials and signatures, even though she’d seen them just months before. She’d gotten all dressed up in a fancy dress and heels, and shaken hands with the judge who’d signed on the bottom of all these pages. Right beneath Mike, and right beneath Jodie.

Her mom. Officially. Legally.

Sasha let the papers fall back together and took a breath that was shakier than she’d have liked to admit. She’d been an active participate in this process, but something about seeing their copies of the paperwork in full felt...different. More real. More final.

“Oh sh*t, I thought this legal stuff took months to come through.” Ashton laughed, but his tone was entirely benign. Sasha felt her eyes begin to sting as her coworkers threw their arms around her in a gangly hug. “Congrats, Sash!” Even though Jeremy Jr’s glasses were digging into her cheek, and the hard edge of Ashton’s name badge was pressing uncomfortably into her arm, the teenager didn’t push them off right away. She let herself be squished into the awkward, genuine hug for a few brief seconds before wiggling herself free and jumping off the counter.

“I gotta find Mike!” She left her bag sitting beside the counter and ran out of the prize corner, stuffing the papers quickly back into the envelope as she ran.

“Hey! There’s, like, three boxes left to unpack!” Ashton shouted after her. Jeremy Jr. adjusted his glasses.

“Ah, let her go. She’ll be back in a few minutes, anyway.” He jumped to the floor, himself, and reached for one of the remaining boxes. “This one’s full of those limited edition keychains. Do you have space for those?”

[magalidragon]

a lights, camera, action drabble | 📸

What happens after Dany and Jon hook up? 😉

Marge! Loras just dropped something off for you!"

Margaery looked up over the top of her sketchpad, eyeing her husband entering her study with a giant mint green box with a pale silver bow. It was her company's coloring; who would be gifting her a box of her own clothing line? She scowled at Robb, who set it down on the table in front of her. "Did he say anything else besides dropping it off?" she wondered. Sometimes she questioned making her brother her personal assistant. He only did it because the other option was he had to work for their grandmother and he was terrified of her.

She leaned ofrward, tossing the sketchpad aside, turning the box in front of her. Tere was no card. Robb shrugged. "I didn' task. He seemed in a hurry. Just said that he got the box delivered to the offices, had to drop it off here for you and ran away."

"Probably has a date."

"I did not ask." Robb scratched his head, sending his auburn curls in every direction. He pinned his hands to his hips, scowling. "Yo know I haven' theard from Jon since you made him do thatp hotoshoot. Do you think your friend killed him or something?"

She smirked; she had her own ideas of what Daenerys might be doing to Jon in that moment. "I have no idea," she said airly, tugging on the bow. She was curious now. She lifted the lid off and pushed through the tissue paper, to reveal...

Her own clothing.

Robb reached in and pulled up a pair of silk shorts, which were torn straight down the middle. He cocked his head, his brow furrowed adorably, quite clueless. "Someone sent you ripped clothes? What the bloody fuck? Is it a stalker you think?”

Definitely not a stalker. In fact… she pursed her lips, hiding a smile and rummaged through what she now saw were all the new pieces from her lingerie collection, in various states of distress. Some had a strap broken. Others had clearly been torn apart in haste. She ran the sash of the black caftan robe through her fingers, her own conclusions forming.

Robb was confused, still holding the ripped shorts. “Who would do this? Is it Loras playing a joke?”

“Oh no, it was one of the models.”

“What!?!”

She hummed, nodding, and dove her hand back into the box, crowing in satisfaction when she removed a thick cream envelope. “Marge” was scrawled on the front and she chuckled, sliding a sharp red fingernail under the flap.

Robb perched on the coffee table, eagerly peering at the card. “Who is it?”

The card had only a black three-headed dragon stamped in the middle, looping writing that simply said:

I owe you. -D

“Oh you certainly do,” she murmured, smirking. “You certainly do.”

“I don’t get it,” Robb blurted. He dropped the card in the box, arms crossed. “Tell me.”

The other contents of the envelope confirmed Margaery’s initial suspicions and also that she had chosen the perfect photographer for the job. The photo was printed on thick glossy, no touch ups or effects. There was no face, just two sets of hands twisting the black caftan up over a slim, muscular thigh, and a silver curl visible in the upper corner.

She grinned, dropping the card into the box. “I’ll tell you later, love. In the meantime, let me know what your cousin wants for payment for the photoshoot. It worked out better than I could have dreamed.”

“Yeah about that.” Robb took out his phone, scowling at a text. “All he said was no charge, he got more than he could have ever thought. I know he’s an odd one and hates shooting people, but he’s not stupid to turn up a decent paycheck.”

“He’s not stupid, he’s grateful.”

“What are you talking about?”

Margaery dropped her IOU note into the box and placed the lid back over it. She stood up and patted her husband’s cheek. “Don’t bother Jon, love. He’s busy.”

“What is going on?”

“Nothing love, just that everything worked out according to plan!”

She removed her phone and began texting Loras. They still did need to get those photos for the new lingerie campaign, but first, she laughed, she needed to have a new sample set made.

“And send the bill to Daenerys, she’ll know why,” she finished, smirking.

[hotforharrysheart]

One Night in NYC

The last two weeks had been utterly exhausting. The week before the release of Harry's House you had spent overseeing a team of individuals who were helping you sort your belongings, storing some things, donating others as well as moving your boxed items into Harry's place in London. It was hard to get accustomed to thinking of his home being yours as well. "'s "ours", love, want ya ta realize 's our home, yeah?" he'd said repeatedly as you continued to ask if you could "hang something somewhere" or "place something somewhere." You had more unpacking to do than days before you would begin touring, so you’d sorted the basics and trusted Harry when he said that anything you didn't have that you needed you could get on the road. Your primary concentration has been neatly collecting the items you’d need to research the latest case you were working on for your podcast and narrowing down and electronically scanning what you could so that you weren't lugging around a heavy backpack full of paperwork.

THAT had been a crazy week, but the week of the Harry's House release had been the busiest week since you had been together. There were interviews, press junkets, endless congratulations from precious well-wishers who wanted to stop and chat just a minute to let Harry know how proud they were; And the performances were simply put: electric. The world was obsessed with Harry Styles new music. And for once it seemed the world was getting it right, he and his music were perfection. He was in a place of self-awareness that most people only dream of being and his music reflected his intellect, charm, creativity and most of all his talent. He was at the beginning of something epic and you were going to get to watch it all unfold.

The week began when you arrived in New York City for the release of the album. From the minute you touched down, you’d barely had time to do anything other than drop your carry on and backpack in the closet of the modern yet cozy apartment and go, go, go. Thankfully, Harry had asked his assistant to order duplicates of your favorite bathroom essentials to be stocked there and he’d even had Lambert send over a rack of clothing items for you to select from so you would have a bit of a wardrobe there. The downside of the busy schedule was that at the end of the day you both were completely exhausted. You hadn’t been able to do more than crawl in bed and crash at the of the day and each new day started much earlier than either of you had wanted given that waking up warm with each other could cast a spell making getting out of bed somewhat heartbreaking.

You hadn’t been able to make love in a week and you didn’t know about Harry, but it was starting to grate. Truth be told, you were plain horny; God, you loved fucking that man. You decided tonight you would have to rectify the situation. You’d had Lambert make a pair of tiny panties with “Harry’s House” on the crotch and the little house from the Harry’s custom sweaters printed on the back. They were mint green and tied on the sides. Lambert, ever thorough, included a matching mint green lacy demi-bra and gone out on a limb to order some dark green stilettos. You were going to rock his world tonight. You’d dressed in a cute little distressed denim mini-skirt and wore a white Harry’s House t-shirt with the upside-down pot of flowers on it. You slipped on a pair white socks and white Chuck Taylor high-tops. You wanted to enjoy his first show being cool and in shoes you could dance to.

You were in Harry’s dressing room putting on some lip gloss when you accidentally knocked over your bottle of water, spilling water on the floor. “Shit!” You grabbed a towel and bent over to wipe it up. The water had splashed onto Harry’s Pleasing bag. “Double shit!” You picked it up to wipe it off, but it was no use the back had a big wet spot on the bottom. “Ugh, gonna have to empty it so it can dry.” Settling down on your knees you began to unpack the bag when you came across a small pink leather photo album. You didn’t wanna be nosey, but you recognized the look, it matched the one from the boudoir photos that Helene had taken. You couldn’t help but crack it open to find smaller copies of all those photos. So fucking hot – god, how you’d missed him. You had just flipped to the photo of him with his fingers rubbing circles on your clit when the door opened. You quickly turned to see Harry coming in the door.

“Whatcha doin’ baby?” he asked.

“I spilled my water and some got on your Pleasing bag so I was hanging it up to dry when I found these,” you say nodding down to the photo album. He smirked. “What are you doing with them?”

He decided to join you on the floor. “Well, I wasn’t gonna have sexy pictures of my girl an’ no’ take ‘em wi’ me when I want ta.” He said kissing behind your ear.

“What the fuck, Harry, what if someone sees these?!” You exclaim with a loud whisper.

“Relax tha’s why my room’s keycoded,” he says trying to reassure you.

“Ok, well, I suppose,” you say side-eying him, “but why do you have them here today?”

“To be honest, ‘m horny as fuck and haven’t had you a week,” he admits with a grin.

This time you smirked. “I’ve missed you too.” And you lean forward for a deep kiss tugging his bottom lip with you teeth, “Mmm… I gotta get up or I’ll do something to mess you up.”

“I don’ mind tha’, please, mess me up…” he dares.

“Stop tempting me, that’s not fair!” You stand up and just as you are about to lean over the dressing table you look down wondering why Harry’s not getting up as well.

He’s just staring up your skirt. “Babe…” he runs his hands up the back of your thighs. “Pull your skirt up.” He says from below you.

You give him a smug smile. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”

His eyes never stop staring, “Show me. Wanna see right now.”

You turn and grasp the hem of the skirt and slowly pull it up to your waist. His hands skate up your thighs and his fingers trace over the words “Harry’s house” on your crotch. You shiver. “Turn ‘round,” he says softly. He sees the little matching house on your bum and he groans. “Turn back ‘round fo’ me.”

You slowly turn back around. You smile. “You like them? Had them custom made.”

He swallows. “I love ‘em,” he says, voice raspy and laced with desire. His fingers move back to trace the words on the crotch again. You can feel yourself get wet as his fingers move over the thin panties. He groans. “Fuck…these panties…Killin’ me love.” His fingers deftly pull the bow on the left and the panties fall to the side of your thigh. He pulls them so he can see the crotch. “They’re wet, baby.”

“Yes,” you say breathily.

He moved up to his knees. “Press ya legs a little.”

“H…” you trail off on a whisper, leaning back against the counter.

“Hold on,” he says, placing one of your legs over his shoulder and kissing his way down your slit. Your hand sinks into his curls and you gasp as he licks up and down your slit. “So swollen for me, baby. Ya must be missin’ my touch.”

“Yes! Longest we’ve gone WITHOUT!” You shriek as he sucks your clit in his mouth. He hollows his cheeks and works your clit with his tongue. You’re panting and whimpering above him. He pops off.

“God, I’ve missed tha’ sound! Your little sounds…fuck!” He licks a stripe up your center and you cry out. “Cum fo’ me!” He sucks your clit back into his mouth and you nearly fall over from the sensations.

You’re floating in that place where you go with him and you smile as you enjoy the moment before you tip over the edge. Your legs are shaking and you tug his curls hard as you shriek, “Haaa…mmmm…m’cumming! I—oh god!”

His hold on your waist tightens as you cum. He licks you through it and lowers you down on the floor with him gently. He pulls you back against him. “Mmmm…My house tastes great.”

*********** 4 hours later*********

You make it back to the apartment almost vibrating with adrenaline and ringing ears after the show. To say Harry was incredible would be an injustice. He’s been gifted with talent in spades and his humility about it only makes him that much more magnetic. You’d screamed, danced and, at one point, even cried. Cried for the you who’d always dreamed of being able to even be a part of his show as personally as you were, much less, the you who’d dreamed of being with him on the level you were with him. Cried with pride at his beauty, love of people and making them happy.

Harry locked the door and tossed his bag down on the table in the entry way. You turned to look at him and he just crooked his finger in a come-hither motion. You looked down smiling then looked back up to meet his eyes as you stepped to him. He cradled your face with both his hands. “Baby, know ya said ya loved the show, but do ya think the crowd loved it just as much?”

“Oh, babe, they were ecstatic…you were spectacular,” you say emphatically.

He presses his forehead to yours and lets out a deep sigh and then a soft smile. “’m so glad you’re here with me,” he says rolling his forehead back and forth.

“I’m so happy you want me to be here,” you say back softly rubbing the curls at the back of his neck.

You kiss him quickly, “I’m gonna grab a bottle of water, would you like one?” you say nodding toward the kitchen.

“Please. I’m gonna go fo’ a soak in the tub. Join me?” he asks running his hands down to grab your bum.

“God, do I ever, but, baby, I’m afraid we wouldn’t make it out of there without getting lost in each other and I have a plan for the night. I’m gonna jump in the guest shower. You go relax, but don’t fall asleep on me,” you warn with another kiss.

“Not a chance, ‘m wired and need ya tonight,” he rasps squeezing your cheeks.

You turn to grab a couple of bottles of water and he heads to the master bath, stripping along the way. You take him a bottle of water and he’s got the water going and is pouring some bath salts under the stream. He thanks you with a kiss and taps your bum on your way out the door. You can’t help but look in the mirror on you way out to gawk at his body as he strips his pants. What is there about him taking his pants off that is so sexy? Without missing a beat or even taking his eyes off the tub he says, “Stop staring…” causing you to giggle and almost walk into the door frame as you leave. That boy has you wrapped around his finger. Tight.

You hop to the guest room and run through a quick shower. “How quickly things change,” you think smiling to yourself and applying lotion to your entire body. You quickly brush your teeth and run back to the master closet and pull out the second pair of Harry’s House panties you had made and rather than the matching bra, you reach for his mint green custom Harry’s House sweater. You realized during the show, that this was what you wanted to wear for him tonight. You pull on the sweater and panties. The sweater is long enough to reach to just under your bum, but the sleeves are positively miles long so you roll them up to your wrists. Then you see his green beaded necklace and quickly add it to your neck. Back in the bedroom you run a brush through your hair, and it smooths into soft waves. Slipping your feet into the matching green stilettos, you roll your eyes and thank god you don’t have to wear these every day.

You pull the duvet back on the bed and light a few candles. The curtains over the floor to ceiling windows are wide open and you know an early sun would be unwelcome on a morning when you both can sleep in. Going to them you pull the cord and they close, but then stop about two feet apart. “Humph?” you grunt out. You go to the middle and reach up on tip toes to try and pull them closed the rest of the way. You’re in the middle of gently jerking them first one way and then the other to try to close them. You can feel the cool breeze on your bum as the sweater rides up above your waist. “What the…oh, for fuck’s sake…” you mumble.

“Ya halfta use the switch on the other side to finish closin’ ‘em,” Harry says from behind you.

You jump a foot in the air and stumble to the side on the damn stilettos grabbing your chest as you turn around. There, in a pair of black sleep pants, leaning against the bathroom door frame is the sexiest sight you’ve ever seen. Complete with a giant smirk on his face. “You scared me, H.” you mutter breathily.

“Wearin’ ma clothes again, hmm?” he teases.

You immediately shift your weight to one side. “Harry! You aren’t supposed to see yet, I wanted to… seduce you!” you cry out putting one fist on your hip.

“Oh baby, ya don’ halfta ta do anythin’ special ta seduce meh.” He says with a chuckle. “Although in those shoes…Jesus, babe.”

“Come fix the curtains for me,” you say crooking your finger.

He stalks closer and you turn and look up at the top trying to determine why they don’t work like you want them to. Just about that time he wraps one hand around your waist and strokes down to your mound on the outside of the panties. With the other hand he threads his finger inside the tie then leans in to whisper in your ear. “Look at our reflection.” He whispers.

You groan, “That’s so sexy.”

“Wish I could capture this mo’ an’ bottle it up fo’ the next time we halfta go fo’ a week w’out sex.” He murmurs in your ear.

“Hold on,” you lean over to grab your phone from the chair by the window. Opening the camera app, you snap a picture of your refection in the window. Biting your bottom lip you pull the phone to one side to take a look at the shot. Harry places his chin on your shoulder to look as well.

Looking at the photo, you bring your forefinger up to your mouth to nibble. He sees you do this and reaches over to slowly pull your hand down. “I’m sorry,” you say, “It’s a hard habit to break…”

“’S’ok, baby, do you not like the shot?” he asks.

“No, God, no! It’s kinda the opposite, I…” you clear your throat, “I love it, love it so much, its just…I, err, I mean…it’s just… I have really, really missed your touch,” you say turning to wrap your arms around his neck. “So, I guess I was just wondering…would you, please, touch me?”

His hands slip down you your bum where he runs his painted fingertips, white with red hearts, along the edge of the panty legs along your where your thigh meets your bum. You close your eyes and roll your neck while he watches on with a smug smile. “Feel good?” he asks.

“Mmm-hmm…” you moan.

“Love ya in ma sweater,” he says eyes tracing down the length of your neck to look at the sweater. “Soft innit?”

“Yes, it’s so soft,” you whisper, “it’s tickling my nipples.”

He cocks his head to one side, “Yeah?”

You nod your head. He reaches one hand around and grabs a fold of the sweater and brushes it back and forth over your nipple, all while looking at you from under his lashes; he’s looking for your response. “Mmmm…” you throw your head back and he pushes his hand up to cup and massage your breast, thumb rubbing back and forth over the sweater covered nipple. He tugs as the sweater to expose your shoulder through the neck. He leans forward and kisses your shoulder over and over. Then his teeth join his lips as he groans and bites softly at your skin.

“Missed touchin’ ya,” he mutters against your skin. “Fuck,” He rasps as he reaches your ear with his lips. “Wan’ you…God, wan’ ya s’fuckin’ bad.” He’s reached his patience limit and he needs to have you.

He turns you around to face the reflection in the window while he runs his hands around to your tummy under the sweater. “Look out at the city…” he trails off softly whispering in your ear. “It’s still wide awake, look at all the lights,” you say resting your head back on his shoulder. You reach up behind you to run your fingers along his neck, threading you fingers in his hair. He’s using his middle finger to run light circles around your belly button.

“So bright, perfect,” he says but he isn’t looking at the lights, he’s looking at you. Running his hand down to the edge of your panties, he traces the waistband before slipping his middlefinger to the first knuckle inside the elastic. He just smooths the skin back and forth. “Baby, ya wet fo’ meh…did ya ruin these little panties for me?” he asks breathily.

You groan on a chuckle, “Harry, I’ve been wet for hours now. Days if I’m honest. It was very tempting to use the handheld in the guest shower.”

“Well, now, tha’s gonna halfta be removed fro’ tha’ shower, innit? I can’ have ya doin’ that without me, ya orgasms are mine” he teases seriously.

“I know that, and I also know you’ve made it so good that I’m ruined for even a solo fuck,” you huff.

He runs his other hand up under the sweater. “Wha’s up here in my house?” he says referencing the house on his sweater. “Mmm…three things ‘m in love wi’…” he says.

“Three?” you ask quizzically with furrowed brows.

“Yeah, two tits an’ one really, really big, beautiful heart.” He rub’s his hand over your sternum.

“Harry, just when I think you are only horny, you go and say something so sweet. You really love me don’t you?” you ask hopeful.

“Yeah, babe, I really, really do…and yeah, ‘m really, really horny too,” he says with a breathy laugh. “Wanna make love to ya, but ‘m gonna halfta…” he shakes his head.

“What, H? Can tell me anything,” you encourage while he’s palming your nipples.

“Well, first, ’m gonna have to fuck ya up against this window…can we fuck first, love?” he asks eagerly.

You grin and reach behind you to cup his cock, “Mmm…that’s a proposal I couldn’t dare refuse.”

He groans and put his forehead on your shoulder. You know he looking down to where your hand is and watching your matching painted fingertips grasp him with a squeeze. “Jesus, baby…” he says and pinches down on your nipples. “Need ya ta listen to me, yeah?” he says using that voice that tells you he is in control.

“Yes, Harry, I’ll listen,” you whisper shyly.

“Put your hands forward on the glass,” he commands. You go to kick your shoes off and he stops you. “No, leave ‘em…sexy as fuck.”

You lean forward and place your palms on the windowpane while he gently presses down on your upper back bending you over. The stilettos give your hips a lift and tilt your pelvis back toward him. He pulls the bow tails on the sides of your panties and rips them from you.

“God, honey, can see ya pussy pokin’ out from back here…so slippery…” he stammers running his middle finger from your hole to clit, circling your clit and then back up to your hole where he rims it spreading your wetness.

“Oh my god Harry.” You mutter toward the floor with closed eyes and an open mouth.

“Gonna fuck ya up against this window, keep watch don’t want anyone ta see.” He muses. He leans forward along your side to whisper, “That make ya wetter…don’t drip.” You clench your thighs tighter in an attempt to hold it together. “No, baby, don’t close up on me, spread ya legs.”

You do as he says and feel him step away. “Harry?” you ask turning your head. He’s taking his lounge pants off and just staring so you wiggle your hips just a little and his eyes move straight to yours while he smirks.

“Playin’ with fire. Warnin’ ya.” Lounge pants kicked to the side he grabs his cock and squeezes. “Touch y’self, sweetheart. Wanna see the nails on your fingers on my pussy.”

You moan loudly, “God Harry, turns me on so much when our polish matches.” You run your middle finger through your wetness circling your clit and then back to your hole, where you push your finger in to the second knuckle and still.

Harry’s eyes are glued to your fingers. “Fuck, honey leaking around it,” he mutters so quietly he’s the only one who can hear it. He shakes his head and speaks up, “Keep touchin’ yaself, Christ.”

Your finger moves back to your clit and you slowly circle your fingers.

“Mmmmm…like that someone might be watching us,” you say, head thrown back.

“Ya do?” He say through clenched teeth.

“Ungh…yes! Reminds me of Paris when Helene watched us. Sometimes I still can’t believe we did that,” you whisper.

“Fuck…tha’ turn you on? Someone watchin?” He asks, as he comes to stand behind you, hands gripping your hips.

“Mmmm…never thought it would, but it does,” you speak up shyly.

“Shit, make me fuckin’ crazy, know tha’?” He pulls your hand from your clit and places it back on the window. “Got the window all sticky wi’ ya wetness.”

You moan out.

He runs his cock up and down your slit and smirks when you tighten your hands on the glass. “Gotta get my cock wet, don’ I?”

You whimper out a yes.

He leans forward to whisper, “I wan’ ya to imagine someone watchin’ me fuck ya. Watchin’ wi’ binoculars so they can see everythin’. Almost as if they were in the room wi’ us. Do ya see it?”

“Yes! Yes, I can see it!” You feel yourself drip to the floor.

“Let’s give ‘em a show, yeah?” He says, as he slides into your pussy.

You gasp at the feeling. “Ahhhhhh!” You shriek see he bottoms out inside you. “You feel so good…so good. Missed this. Missed you.”

“Fuck! Missed ya too!” He grunts out. He pulls out and pushes back in and then he’s fucking into you fast.

You gasp. You can see someone watching him fuck you in your mind and you’re close, you’re so close…and then you feel him slam into you and still, an almighty groan leaving his mouth and him twitching.

He’s leaning over you, face between your shoulder blades, panting. “I’m sorry, baby. I…couldn’t…I didn’t mean ta…shit, ‘m s’ sorry.”

“No, baby, I'm glad you came,” you say swiftly.

He pulls out and pulls you up to standing and turns you around. “‘M sorry. Got too worked up…went wi’out too long. Make it up ta ya. Make ya cum as much as ya wan’ before the next go,” he says, kissing all over your face.

You put your hands on his cheeks. “I don't expect you to give me multiple orgasms before we make love, it won't change the way I feel about you.”

“Well, thank fuck for tha’,” he says eyes searching yours. “I’m so gonna make it up to ya.”

You smile. “Well, I mean, if you're offering..." you tell him, voice low, as you run your finger down his chest. He presses his lips to yours and kisses you passionately.

“Stay right here,” he says kissing you again with a smack.

“What have you got runnin’ around in that creative mind of yours?” you quip.

He grabs a small throw pillow and tosses it down at your feet.

You frown and raise one eyebrow, “What’s that for?”

“I wanna be comfy for this,” he says smirking, dimple on full display. “Turn around and place your hands on the window again and spread your legs, please.”

You smile and turn around again and place your palms on the window. “So polite, Harry.”

“An’ you’re so obedient,” he says with a tap to your hip. While you’re facing the window he gets down on his back with his head on the pillow and spends way too much time making himself comfortable, you can’t help but chuckle. “What…?” He runs his large hands up and down your legs to the back of your knees. You shiver all over and squeak out a “oh my god”.

“Feel good?” he murmurs his lips against your ankle. “Fuck, baby, these shoes, never thought I’d be into heels, but Jesus!”

You can’t help the flush that covers you body when you look down and see his beautiful face looking up at you.

“Wan’ ya to slide ya hands down tha’ window an’ lemme taste my cunt,” he says nodding his chin up at you. “C’mere,” he asks pulling at your legs, “Jus’ sit down…on. (kiss) my. (kiss) face. (kiss)”

You feel your knees go weak, but you do his bidding, sliding your hands down the window, bracing yourself forward and bend your knees until you are hovering over his mouth then you stop.

“Ya ok baby?” he asks concerned.

“Yeah, it’s just, I hope I can hold it, when you do this it’s so so good,” you confess.

“Got ya,” he says and braces his elbows on the floor and his hands on you bum. “Gimme my pussy, ‘m starved for something warm.”

You moan. “Jesus, H. Your filthy fucking mouth,” you say, but you smile at him.

He smirks as he pulls you down to hover over his beautiful lips.

Your hands tighten on the window in anticipation. “There’s someone out there watchin’ me eat ya.”

You cry out at the vibrations from his voice so close to your sensitive clit.

He licks a long stripe up your pussy and then uses the tip of his tongue to lick your clit ever so gently. Up and down. Up and down. You’re making little “mmmm” noises until he moves his head from side and to side and then you’re moaning loudly as you feel yourself drip on him. You’re back to your fantasy of someone watching. His tongue teases your entrance and then he’s thrusting his tongue inside you. You grip the glass harder. He moves his mouth back to your clit and sucks it into his mouth, cheeks hollowing. His name leaves your mouth on an endless loop and you wobble in your stilettos. He pops off with a loud pop, kissing the inside of your thigh, giving you both a minute to regroup.

“Ya ready to cum?” He pants out.

“Yes! Hold me tight!”

You can feel his grip on you tighten. “I got ya. Not gonna let ya fall.” He latches his mouth back into your clit and you can feel your release coiling. You’re so close. I’m gonna cum! You think to the faceless person watching. Look at what he does to me! And then it explodes, and everything goes white. You’re shaking in your heels but true to his word, Harry isn’t letting you fall. You’re a panting mess above him, forehead leaning on the glass.

“Can ya stand?” he asks kissing the inside of your thigh.

You shake your head no. “Gonna take ya shoes off slowly, kay?”

You nod.

He slowly takes off your right shoe and places your foot on the floor, and then moves to the other shoe. Once both feet are on the floor, he sits you back on his pelvis. “There ya go.”

Shifting, he picks you up and carries you to the bed, gently laying you down. He starts to move away, but instead he rests braced on his hands while hovering over you. He smiles while looking at your face, you’re looking back at him, and it feels like so much is being spoken during that gaze.

“I missed you,” you say softly while running your hands up and down his muscular arms. “I mean, I know we’ve been together for the most part this week, and fallen asleep together every night, but I’ve missed how we get lost in each other this way.”

He leans down to kiss you softly, his tongue tracing the edge of your top teeth before licking inside your mouth. He slants his head to take the kiss deeper. “Mmm…” he moans into your mouth, and you suck his tongue. He pulls away to take a deep breath and kisses his way down your neck before stopping and looking up at you with a serious look. “’I’ve missed gettin’ lost in ya…we’ve got ta make sure we take time ta be together on purpose, yeah? Like a proper date, even if ‘s just stayin’ in ta make love. I mean, this is one way we communicate, no?”

You nod your head agreeing with him. “Doesn’t have to take a lot of time, just so we can connect.”

He searches your eyes intently, “Jus’ no matter wha’, remember I love ya so fuckin’ much an’ if ya need to get lost, yeah? Ya just let me know, ‘kay.”

“I promise, Harry,” you vow hoping he realizes how much you mean it.

“Off wit’ this sweater, I wanna make love ta my girl.” He says raising the sweater over your head and off your arms. The sweater pops off and you’re left in just the green beads. “Up,” he commands and you sit up on your elbows as he unfastens the latch on the necklace.

He wraps it around his hand and looks at it, and he has the look of discovering gold on his face. He simply tosses it to one side.

“Go put it away, honey, I don’t want it to get broken on the bed,” you tell him nodding to the beads.

“No’ yet, have an idea,” he says smugly.

“OooKaay,” you mutter matching his smug smile. “I’ve always loved every idea you have when we are in bed,” you giggle, “so I can wait patiently.”

“Won’t have to wait too long, promise,” he smirks while sitting back on his knees. “Spread ya legs fo’ meh, love.” You pull you knees up and let them fall to the side while he is biting his bottom lip. “Thank you,” he says looking at you with a grin.

“My pleasure…” you trail biting the tip of one finger attempting to look innocent.

He grabs the necklace and fastens the latch so there aren’t any sharp edges.

You gulp down a whimper, eyes wide. “What…”

“So many questions tonight,” he interrupts shaking his head, “trust me.”

“Okay,” you nod sucking your lips inside your mouth.

Letting the necklace hang from his pinched fingers, he dangles it over your nipple and lets it sway back and forth less than an inch away from the tip. Nothing is touching you and it still ramps up your arousal. He’s watching your face; he knows exactly what it’s doing to you. You take a deep breath, and your nipple rises just enough to get snagged on it. “Ah!” you roll your head and whimper. He smiles a big smile. When you exhale your tits jiggle on an aroused shiver.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

You gulp a mouthful of air, “good,” is all you can say.

“Tell me more than tha’” he asks cocking his head to the side.

“It’s cold and it kinda tickles, but in a really good way. I can feel the air when it swings by,” you moan eyes squeezed shut.

He runs it across the nipple back and forth and drags it across to the other and does the same thing. You arch your back sharply. “Oh my god, H…H…Harry!” you stammer.

He chuckles proudly, “Ya kno’, I’ve worn these fo’ the world ta see, bet they’d never imagine ‘em bein’ used this way an’ ‘specially no’ this way.”

“Eyes on me now,” he whispers. You raise your head and look up to him. He drags the beads down your tummy. Quivering in anticipation of what’s to come you grip the duvet until your knuckles turn white. You watch as the beads make their way close to your mound.

“Jesus, babe, ya eyes big as saucers,” he chuckles and you drop your head back and giggle slightly trying not to squirm, because your learned that moving just makes them tickle.

He lets them swing back and forth over your mound before finally dragging them down your slit. “Ya pretty lil pussy’s all puffy an’ pink, baby, my fav’rite color.”

You whimper and bring your hand up to your mouth and bite the back of it. “Harry…”

Closing his eyes he says, “Christ, love it when ya say my name like tha’”

While his eyes are closed for that split second the beads shift, swing back and then fall forward and tap your clit. You sit up partially and screech, “Hahhh!”

This causes his eyes to fly open to see what’s going on and he pulls the beads back quickly thinking maybe you were hurt.

“Jesus Christ Harry!” you cry out.

“Oh my god, did tha’ hurt?” he asks in a rush.

You shake your head frantic, “No,” you say in a high-pitched voice.

“Again?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod rolling your head, “so good…” you sob.

He grins, pleased, and pulls the beads back and let’s them fall forward on your clit, repeatedly. Each time feels more sensitive than the last, it’s a rhythmic pattern of tapping that feels so good. He lets the swing and tap hit up and down from your clit to your hole. “So open fo’ me.” He says watching the beads do their work.

You’re squirming and bucking, it’s feels so good. You raise your head and shoulders up to look at what he’s doing catching a moment of him staring at your pussy and that is such a sexy sight.

He stops and drags the beads up and down while they dangle from his fingers. He’s using them like an extension of his fingers; the touch so light. You drop back, it’s all you can take to feel it, much less watch Harry do it.

“Jesus, love, can see ya openin’ and closin’ – ya feel empty?” He asks from under his lashes.

You roll your head to one side on the pillow and look down with your eyes at him and nod your head, “Yeah, want something inside.”

“How ‘bout this?” he asks smartly.

He wraps the necklace around his hand and runs the line of beads up and down between your pussy lips.

Your shoulders and back come off the bed and you are arched up on your head digging into the pillow. “H…H…H…aaarrryy…Mmmm…” you sob out.

“Good?” he asks.

“Sooooo goooood,” you sing out.

“How ‘bout this?” he holds the beads tight and pushes one inside your pussy, it’ pops in, with the beads on either side tucked in tight.

Unconsciously, your body clamps down on the bead.

“Fuck’s sake, love, greedy pussy.” He mutters. He pushes it in tighter, “Can ya feel it on our spot?”

“It’s so close, but it doesn't matter, it feels so good,” you moan out.

“Can ya cum?” he asks, “Wha’ if I do this?” He rubs the other bead along your clit at the same time.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…” You bring your hand back up to your mouth and speak into the back of it, “Cumming…cumming…,” it’s all you can chant over and over.

“Can see ya clench on it…don’ stop, love, don’t stop, ‘s so fuckin’ hot,” he’s murmuring like your own private cheering section.

By the time the orgasm is on its way down, you’re begging for him to fuck you. The orgasm was great, but never as good as Harry’s cock inside you. “Fuck me, Harry, please don’t leave me, fuck me, I’m begging, I want your cock deep, I want your cum in me,” you are a blubbering fool for him.

He tosses the beads to the floor and crawls up your body. “Baby, tha’ was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen, my beads in my cunt makin’ ya cum so hard you were pushing it out. Could feel an’ see ya muscles gettin’ hard. Tha’s what ya do on me, righ’?”

You nod grabbing at his ass, “please, please get inside me and do it hard. Want you to fuck hard!”

“Don’ halfta beg, I’ll give it ta ya…wanna fuck? We’ll fuck till it hurts if we wanna, yeah,” he says smoothing your hair from your face. “Christ, I love when ya get like this.”

You reach down with both hands; you just can’t get him in you fast enough. One hand grasps his cock and the other pulls on his hip, and he actually chuckles. “Ok, babe, slow down…Not goin’ anywhere…”

Once you have him lined up he pushes in deep and stills waiting for the gasp he loves so much. You squeeze your eyes and smile blissfully, while your head is dug back into the pillow. He smiles as well and kisses your chin since it’s jutted up into his face.

You let out a giggle moan, like you’ve just come home. “Ahhhh…,” you sound relieved. “Missed that pinch, H. It feels so good.”

“Look at ya baby all blissed out because your cock is back where it belongs.” He says, smiling.

You close your eyes, your hands moving to his curls and taking your nails along his scalp. “Feels (kiss) so (kiss) goddamn (kiss) good (kiss). Now fuck me and show me what my cock can do,” you command as you kiss him again.

“Fuck! My baby wan’s it hard, tha’s wha’ she’s gonna get!” He says, pulling back so his back is straight and he pushes your legs to your chest. He pulls back and snaps his hips back into you hard. Your hands fly to the headboard for leverage as he pounds into you hard and fast. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight like this,” he grits it out. “Tell me…fuck, tell me how it feels. Ya good?”

You lick your lips. “Yes! ‘M good.”

“Am I hittin’ our spot?” he asks through a clenched jaw.

You cry out on a particularly hard thrust. “Yes! Ohhhh…mmmm…”

“Ya almost there baby?”

You smile and giggle. “Harry, you’re so hot.”

He chuckles at you and stills inside you. He pushes your legs open and around his waist. “Ya so beautiful all blissed out for me, baby. Gonna make love ta ya now.”

“I love you, H, so much,” you sob out.

He smiles and kisses you. “I love ya too.” He starts moving again, this time it’s slow. In deep, out, in deep again. You’re making little noises as you move your hips with him, maintaining the deep eye contact with him. You don’t think you could look away if you wanted to.

He’s so close, his lips are brushing yours. You can feel his warm breath on your face. “I forget how…mmmm…good it is when you make love to me sometimes,” you say breathily your fingers tugging his curls. He chuckles and finally breaks eye contact to kiss you. You shift your legs on his back and pull back from his lips and gasp.

His mouth is hanging open, berry lips wet. “Wha’? Y’ok?”

You nod frantically. “Don’t stop. You found…ohhh…found…mmmm…another spot and it’s fuck so…ungh….good!!!”

His eyebrows go up. “Yeah? Fuck, your pulsing hard ‘round me baby. Ya gonna cum?”

You can’t answer because you’re cumming around him and cumming hard. “Haarrr…” Your pussy is pulsing around him around him and your heart feels like it’s gonna explode.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants out. “Shit, m’cumming!” You feel him thrust three more times and then he comes to a stop, face in your neck, kissing your skin as he pants. The weight of him feels so good and your hands are in his curls again. You can tell he’s coming back to you as his kisses have more purpose. He moves his kisses up your neck to your mouth and rolls over, pulling you with him.

“I’ll get up an’ get ya cleaned up in a minute.” He kisses you again. “Wanna kiss ya for a bit.”

You smile as he presses his lips back to yours. They’re soft and slow, his tongue slowly tangling with yours.

You moan softly as you make out and he can’t help but pull you a little closer. “My sweet girl. I���m glad you’re here,” he says, rubbing his nose on yours.

[redpandaramblings]

The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

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

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

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

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

[honeymoonjin]

pairing: namjoon x jimin genre: smut, 18+ readers only word count: 5.1k

summary: namjoon has worked as a bodyguard for an upscale BDSM dungeon for long enough to know that jimin is the most sought-after dom there. it only takes one miscommunication for namjoon to discover firsthand why that is.

warnings: unedited, sexually explicit content, power bottom!jimin, sub top!namjoon, unprotected sex, degradation, light pain play, BDSM dynamics, kinda temperature play, i think that's it but i'm so out of practice so i apologise if i missed something

a/n: this piece came to fruition thanks firstly to the @armyadvocates AAPI Justice and Advocacy initiative, and secondly to the kind commissioner @goldenwallsvol6 on twitter who requested this (i'm so sorry for not including everything you asked for, i got a little carried away kdsjfdssk). please check out the AAPI initiative here, consider donating, and check out the resources that come with it.

-----

Clocking in to work has become such a routine for Namjoon that he often finds himself switching his brain off, preoccupied with half-thoughts as his body runs on autopilot.

He signs in, uses the staff changing room to replace his sweats with the company standard uniform - a tight t-shirt and slim fit jeans, the belt of which he hooks his keys on. He doesn’t actually start his shift for another couple minutes, and so he ducks to the bathroom, chews a breath mint, and stretches before heading out of the office and down the narrow hallway that leads to the den.

In fact, it takes him a few steps into the dungeon before his automatic schedule is disrupted.

It appears Namjoon is entirely alone in the facility.

His steps, taken with heavy-duty boots, echo around the hollow space with nothing but the walls to absorb them. It’s a Thursday night (he consults his phone just to be sure) and he was on the closing shift. On any usual day, he’d be starting work right at the bustling high of the BDSM dungeon, yet he finds himself wandering alone.

Shaped in a rough X, the center of the dungeon is open-plan, with more private spaces forking off. The wing he’s in is generally full of swingers and kinksters making use of costume changing stations and a room full of cleaning supplies and disposables like condoms or wet wipes. It was always the calmest section, but never dead like this.

In a daze, Namjoon glances inside the rooms anyway, half-expecting the place to burst into life at any given moment. But it stays undisturbed, and in no time he’s in the central atrium, weaving through bolted-down couches, benches and racks until he can sink onto a stool at the bar.

Coherent thought escapes him. His brain flails for a reason, but the absurdity of an entirely vacant sex dungeon has him lost for words. After a moment, in restless futility, he stands back up and goes behind the bar, back further into the mini storage/kitchen that he knows features a window.

Outside the narrow, slightly dusty frame is an empty parking lot. His heart sinks, feeling sorely left behind and out of the loop, but a glint catches his eye. Pressing his nose to the glass, he squints and peeks a somewhat familiar vehicle, pulled into the closest park to the entrance of the dungeon.

Namjoon stares pointedly at the Hyundai, racking his brain. God, who was it that had a-

A wooden scrape from behind has Namjoon jumping in violent fright, catching his forehead on the protruding frame of the window. Cursing, he whirls around and glimpses movement further inside. Another drawn-out scrape is followed by a very human-sounding huff.

Heart still racing, Namjoon makes his way out of the storage area and stands behind the bar, seeking out the presence.

“Oh, shit, you gave me a heart attack!” Park Jimin stands off to the left of the room, hands on his hips and head tilted back in relief. “I thought you were a burglar.”

“No,” Namjoon states redundantly, mouth not quite working beyond that. He knew he recognised that silver SUV - every Thursday he watched Jimin hop into it and pull away after a long night of scening. The two had exchanged words often, more than Namjoon could say for most patrons. Being the bouncer for a sex dungeon didn’t lead to that much genuine conversation, but he always appreciated the effort Jimin would put in, hair wet with sweat and lips curved with happy exhaustion but still asking Namjoon if he’d managed to work out whether it was birds or the neighbour’s cat eating his strawberry plants.

He forces himself to check back into the present when current-Jimin cocks his head with a slightly sheepish grin, awaiting an actual explanation. “I, um,” Namjoon stutters, having to avert his eyes to construct anything coherent, “I didn’t realise the club was shut, I’m honestly a little confused.”

Jimin’s smile drops, plush lips rounding in surprise. “Oh, really? Hoseok-hyung said he sent out emails to all the staff. There was a pipe leak so we called off our whole calender until Monday. Did you not get it? We’ve had troubles with work emails getting stuck in spam; something about a sex dungeon really seems to set off the detectors,” the man quips with a jovial lift of his brow.

Namjoon bites down on his tongue, offering up a silent nod of acknowledgement. He’d seen Jimin more times than he could count in black, red, royal purple. In the club he favoured leather, not buckled and studded but sleek and tight, often decorating his lithe body with harnesses, gauntlets and heavy rings instead. More often than not, he’d boast unsmudgable smokey eyes with sharp liner, cheekbones as harsh as they were dewy. It had taken a while, but Namjoon had eventually grown used to the sight, able to prevent chubbing up at the mere sight of his ass as he bent to open his car door.

For some reason, seeing him outside of that whole persona is far more intimidating. Still covered in a light sheen of sweat, that’s the only linker to the Jimin Namjoon is faced with today. He’s got chunky white sneakers weighing down his feet, long overalls rolled up at the cuffs to let some air reach his ankles. The overalls prove particularly problematic to Namjoon, as they don’t seem to have anything underneath. Namjoon can see collarbones, glorious collarbones, and the lean bare sides of Jimin’s torso. If he bent over, Namjoon would probably get a glimpse of his nipples. The thought dampens his mouth with need.

Jimin himself seems unaware of, or at least unbothered by, the way Namjoon stares  him down. Instead, he reaches down to push a cardboard box as tall as his waist across the hardwood floor closer to the bar one shove at a time. “Anyway, you’re welcome to head home. I’ll get Hoseok to add half an hour to your payslip for your troubles.”

“What are you doing here then?” Namjoon asks reflexively, cringing at how loud he’s accidentally pitched his voice.

Jimin’s face is surprisingly round without the stroke of makeup to emphasise dimensions, and when he beams at Namjoon, it softens his whole face even more. “I’m taking advantage of us being closed to install some new furniture. D’you wanna see?” He seems to reconsider, shooting Namjoon a worried look. “It is sex stuff, though.”

“I wasn’t expecting a bookshelf,” he answers honestly, and is rewarded with the bubbling sound of Jimin’s laughter, drowned out prematurely by another shove of the box. “Here,” Namjoon says suddenly, darting out from behind the bar, “let me help.”

At first, Jimin pushes while Namjoon pulls, but after a few grunts of exertion, steps back and lets Namjoon take over, not disguising the way his eyes linger on the way Namjoon’s biceps and pecs flex under his t-shirt sleeve. Obediently, Namjoon lets the bleach-blonde guide him to an open space near the centre of the room, depositing the weighty box there.

With a satisfied hum and a lingering glance at Namjoon’s body, Jimin bends over with a pen from his pocket, using the nib to pop and rip the tape on the box lid, yanking back the flaps with ferocious enthusiasm. He lets out a delighted cry upon lifting a frame of styrofoam out of the box, revealing the goods inside.

One at a time, he takes out oddly-shaped plates of metal, plastic baggies of bolts and screws, and some rubber caps. Kicking the empty box away, Jimin slots his hands back on his hips and grins at Namjoon. “Can you guess what it is?”

Namjoon takes a moment to consider the different sections of stainless steel. The largest isn’t flat, but a rectangle with a slight curve to it, the gentlest arc. The rest come in mirrored pairs, most just for structure, but four of them featuring heavy-duty O-rings. Though he works outside the play area, Namjoon can guess what those are for. “Something for bondage?” he ventures, stomach flipping when Jimin eyes glint with thinly veiled interest.

“A breeding bench,” Jimin explains, squatting to let his fingers trail down the side of one bar, “the metal feels sterile and cold for those that like it. Have you used one before?”

Namjoon feels unsteady on his feet. “No,” he answers, but the softness in his voice betrays his lack of aversion to the thought. But Jimin might think he was a dominant, too, Namjoon worries. Everyone else tended to. “Not yet,” he adds after a moment.

Jimin sucks in a silent but sharp breath, chin lifting. “I could use a hand setting it up. Would you mind…?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, no problem.” Namjoon tries to clear his throat, but the lump of anticipation remains. “Happy to help.”

“Excellent,” the dom beams, fishing around the pieces of styrofoam to locate the printed instructions, handing them to Namjoon. As Namjoon begins to make sense of them, looking over the basic diagrams, Jimin sits down on a nearby ottoman, intended for viewing the other stations, but continuing to face his new help instead. “I’ve been wanting to get to know you more anyway,” he divulges in a honeyed tone.

“Really?” Namjoon glances up from the instructions, feeling the heat of Jimin’s gaze. Even in worn overalls and unstyled hair, the man strikes a gorgeous image, and his posture screams distinguished dominant down to the curl of his fingers. His mere presence has Namjoon feeling off-balance in the most electric way. “There’s not much to know.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jimin replies immediately, deadpan. “Why are you standing outside every night when you’re just as kinky as those of us indoors?”

“Excuse me?”

Jimin leans forward, legs splayed wide and elbows on his knees. His eyes are intently focused, blazing. “For a while it drove me crazy,” he starts, “you looked so familiar. I saw you every evening and couldn’t put my finger on it. But you used to scene here, didn’t you? Years ago.”

Namjoon’s heart stops beating, sitting heavy behind his ribs instead. “You- You’re not meant to approach people you know from the dungeon outside. It’s against the rules.”

“We aren’t outside,” Jimin counters. “I want to know why you stopped. You don’t look happy, Namjoon, seeing others come and go while you’re stuck to your post. Help me understand.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Namjoon stays silent, opening his mouth seeming too daunting a task. After a moment, Jimin swallows hard and sits back again, giving up the inquisition. Namjoon chooses to continue the task at hand, consulting the instructions.

The bench itself is a relatively simple setup. There’s two long cuts of steel in an X below the main panel for stability, four legs with the O-ring bars at either end, and the rubber caps on the bottom to avoid scratching the floor. As he putters around with the nuts and bolts, using a tiny spanner provided in the baggies to tighten them, he feels Jimin’s curious gaze on him. Silent.

Eventually, the silence has its desired effect, and Namjoon lets his internal thoughts vocalise. “I played here for a while. My partner and I ended up going our separate ways, and I wanted to give him space.” He doesn’t make eye contact, pulse thudding and heating the pieces of metal he fiddles with.

Jimin takes a short moment to reply, but it feels cavernous. “It’s been years, then. Hasn’t he had enough space yet?”

Namjoon’s eye twitches. How many nights had he stayed up with that exact question in mind? “It doesn’t feel right anymore. People would know me for who I was then. And I’m- I’m not that person.” His partner, an eager sub with a need for a firm hand, had asked Namjoon one day if he was sure he was really happy being a dom, and it had entirely dismantled the place in BDSM that he’d cultivated for himself. That sub was right, and he didn’t know how to adjust his course to fit his true desire.

So he’d pulled away entirely, unable to fully leave this world, but unsure of whether it still had a spot for him inside it. He just wants to feel what it’s like to let go in the way his subs did.  And as his hands focus on constructing the heavyset bench, his mind wanders deeper in this vein, loose-lipped enough to confess it all to Jimin.

Jimin listens without judgement, not even seeming surprised when Namjoon admits to feeling more submissive, and the lack of reaction is liberating in a way he couldn’t have expected.

It’s not until the final bolt is fastened in place and Namjoon leans back, slightly breathless, that Jimin stands up and approaches him again. He crouches in front of Namjoon, eyes tender and hesitant, reaching out a hand.

Confused, Namjoon holds his out, palm-up, and Jimin takes it carefully, circling his fingers around the narrowest part of his wrist. Still, it’s too meaty for Jimin’s fingertips to connect. He squeezes lightly, carefully, before locking his gaze with Namjoon again, who swears he’s no longer breathing.

“Do you want to try?” Jimin asks. His voice is low, soft but full-bodied. “Do you want to try to let go? Club rules would apply.”

And Namjoon is nodding, and the grip on his wrist is tightening, restraining, and Jimin’s surging forward, lips on his.

His free hand comes up to hook around the nape of Namjoon’s neck. He’s held there, unforgiving, as the dom deepens the kiss. There’s no space between them, just skin on skin, tongue on tongue. It’s uncoordinated on Namjoon’s part, but so calculated and thorough on Jimin’s, like he knows the exact way to unwind him.

Jimin’s fingers scratch up into Namjoon’s hairline. He’d been growing out the length a little for winter, just enough to cover his ears, and it provides leverage for Jimin to grip on and tug, tug, tug in sharp bursts, timed unevenly enough that Namjoon is never ready. Every pull sends an electric shock down his spine, right between his legs.

He’s hard already, achingly so, and it just worsens when Jimin shifts his weight, bringing a foot forward and over Namjoon’s thigh, half-caging his body flush against his.

Jimin’s body is hot, even through the denim overalls and searing when it’s skin-on-skin. Namjoon can hear himself panting when their mouths split apart briefly, but he can’t stop his head from spinning long enough to care.

Before long, a rumbling growl escapes Jimin’s throat, and his teeth find Namjoon’s lower lip, scraping and nipping at the flesh. It’s not until Namjoon’s hand is shaking in Jimin’s grip that he pulls away, eyes wild and alight.

Namjoon must look utterly debauched, with swollen lips, hazy eyes and rucked-up hair, but his cock is screaming to be touched, and his breaths become infused with pleas for more, begging Jimin to touch him.

“God, you greedy little thing,” Jimin remarks in wonder, and a shudder takes over Namjoon’s body. Jimin quirks a brow. “Good? Bad? I don’t know what you like.”

“Good,” Namjoon insists without shame, “oh my god, good. Say m-more like that.”

Jimin hums with a grin, hand on Namjoon’s neck slipping around front to fist his shirt, yanking it suddenly. “Up, then,” he barks, standing himself, “I want you on the bench you built for me. Thank God that body is good for something; it’s not much fucking use now, is it?”

Namjoon’s breath leaves him in a rush, and he gets up shakily, almost tripping over his own feet as he lowers himself back down on the end of the bench. It’s chillingly cold even through his jeans, and he trembles at the thought of touching it with bare skin. Jimin has no such qualms, however, planting his palm on Namjoon’s chest and pushing him backwards, insistently guiding him down without knocking his head on the metal.

His teeth chatter briefly, but it’s nothing compared to when Jimin clicks his tongue and reaches down to strip the thin fabric of his t-shirt off with one fell swoop, the stitches breaking as they’re forced over the broadest part of his shoulders.

Ice erupts across his back and he gasp, shooting up. Jimin’s hand prevents him from getting far, and his breathing grows loud and sharp, shivering violently as his body fights to warm up the steel. The slight arch of it slots perfectly into the divot of his spine, meaning every inch is flush against him.

“You stay where I put you,” Jimin scolds, flicking at a nipple in punishment. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? You, lying here, asking to be degraded by somebody half your size? Pathetic. You’re lucky I’m a giving man.”

“Th-thank you,” Namjoon offers up with wide eyes. He doesn’t know the protocol, doesn’t even know how he should be acting as a sub, let alone as a sub for Jimin. He can barely believe the situation he’s ended up in, but he’s never felt so alive. The cold steel is a wakeup call to sluggish veins, his blood rushing faster than ever, most of it going straight to his dick.

Jimin huffs like he’s not quite pleased with the response - even as his eyes crinkle and glint with satisfaction - and simply hooks a finger into the waistband of Namjoon’s jeans, frowning. “Can’t even get undressed yourself. For goodness’ sake.”

Namjoon’s cheeks burn, and he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling so overwhelmed. Though it was years ago, the habit of being in control hasn’t left him, and part of him feels anxious being so vulnerable. Closing his eyes eases that, and Jimin lets him, briefly reaching up to give his upper arm a squeeze, a lilting hum asking the unworded question.

“I’m okay,” he breathes to the darkness behind his eyelids, and the squeeze returns before Jimin straightens up again, fingers yanking impatiently at Namjoon’s jeans, undoing them and yanking them off, taking his briefs with them.

The new level of nudity sends another shock of cold to his system, but this time Namjoon welcomes it with a groan, tilting his hips up so that his cock rests on his lower stomach. His fingers twitch, aching to wrap around himself.

His desire is answered, not with the delicious grip of fingers, but with the hard press of the heel of Jimin’s palm, pinning his hardness down without mercy. A moan dies in Namjoon’s throat as his body tries to curl inwards. A second hand holds him down still, leaving him unable to escape the heavy pressure.

He pants, writhing and toes curling, but Jimin just sighs softly, like he’s more relaxed than ever. “Such a waste,” he drawls, his voice blooming with all the flourishes of a Disney villain, “wanting to be treated like a slut, but what am I getting out of this? Hm?”

“U-uh-” Namjoon has no idea what to say, cracking his eyes open to seek out the comfort of acknowledgement above the level of the scene. His breath is taken away at the sight. Jimin, above him like an avenging angel, golden-haired and glittering with sweat, still fully clothed (as fully as you could call a single piece of denim). He finds Namjoon’s searching gaze and sends him a calm, dreamy smile of encouragement, before twisting his palm against the base of Namjoon’s dick, wringing a strangled groan out of the man. “You can take me,” he pants, filled with the urge to provide, to serve, “take what you want.”

Jimin tilts his head to the side, like this proposition is worth considering. As he makes a show of pondering, he taps his fingers lazily against his cock’s dripping head. Namjoon swallows the whimpers that threaten to bubble up, and forces his hips not to budge. “I’ll be honest with you,” Jimin says finally, “because you don’t deserve sugar-coating. If I was here with a fleshlight or a dildo, I would’ve come already. You’re wasting my precious time, sweet boy. I don’t want you to lay here and simper, I want you to be a good toy for me. So what’s it gonna be?”

Namjoon’s muscles are trembling; from his lips to his toes, he feels like he’s vibrating slightly, restless down to the very atoms that make him up. Jimin is patient, lazily drawing sticky patterns of precum on Namjoon’s abdomen with his pinky finger. Namjoon fights against the primal part of his brain for something coherent, replaying his words. Fleshlight or dildo. Be a good toy. Jimin was offering him the choice to top or bottom, Namjoon realises, and his cock twitches, feeling liberated and thoroughly taken apart with that heady mix of submission and power. He was giving control to Jimin, but never losing his choices.

For a moment, he does consider what it might feel like to let Jimin take him. He’d never bottomed before - at least not for anyone but his own fingers in his experimental years - but if anyone could make him feel safe, he suspected it would be the dom leaning over him. It’s once he really thinks about it that he knows he’s not ready, a thin strand of dread winding around his lungs that won’t go away until he’s stammering to Jimin that he can have Namjoon’s cock if he wants it.

Jimin sucks in a slow, pleased breath, a smile curling at his lips as he lays the weight of Namjoon’s length across the palm of his hand, looking it over. The chill of the steel beneath him is nothing compared to the iced shiver that runs through him upon being inspected in his most private area. Second most private, he corrects. Baby steps.

“I suppose,” Jimin declares finally with a sigh, “this should do. Not winning any awards, though, is it?” Namjoon’s cheeks burn with shame at the comment even as his face scrunches up in disagreement. If there was one thing to be proud of physically, it was that he could always bring his partners pleasure with the equipment he grew into.

Jimin sees the unfiltered reaction on Namjoon’s face and suddenly claps his free hand over his mouth, turning away. The giggle, impish and delicate, doesn’t get as muffled as he probably intended. “Dammit,” he mumbles, “stop being funny, that’s not fair.”

Namjoon blinks, still stark naked and hard as rock beneath the clothed and chuckling dom. “...Apologies,” he says after a pause, “but do you want to- um- are we-”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin says, clearing his throat and wiggling the muscles in his cheek to force the smile down. His fingers reach nimbly for the straps that hold his set of overalls on, and undresses down to skin as he takes some deep breaths as if to hype himself back into character. Once he’s done, he swings a leg over the metal bench and straddles Namjoon’s thighs with a swiftness that takes his breath away.

While it may take Jimin a second to slip back into his dom headspace after the break in mood, all Namjoon needs is the feeling of Jimin’s plump ass cheeks settling onto hs lap and he’s being smacked in the face with submission, ready to beg to feel it more intimately.

Jimin doesn’t wait for him to beg, however, rolling his body forward and down, all the way until their cocks are pinned together between their stomachs, and their noses bump. Close enough to kiss, Jimin stays right there, a breath away, and Namjoon freezes, unsure if he’s allowed to close the gap.

Pleased with the restraint shown, Jimin smirks, eyes wandering over Namjoon’s face in pure bemusement, slightly cross-eyed with their proximity. “Most toys can’t kiss back,” he mentions, a hand sliding up Namjoon’s forearm and shoulder to thumb at his jaw, tilting his head back and holding it in place, “so I figure I might as well treat myself.”

“Most?” is the final worried exclamation Namjoon manages to get out before lips are descending on his, and heat erupts.

There’s no way Namjoon could keep up. Not when his face is pressed tightly to Jimin’s, lips nipped at, tongue sucked at, and mouth thoroughly explored. Not when every inch of his front is pressed to Jimin’s, the latter’s nipples hard against the soft, relaxed flesh of Namjoon’s chest. Not when he becomes aware of slow rocking, Jimin grinding their cocks together.

It takes him an unknowable eternity of this to realise that the slow, indulgent groans passed between them aren’t all his, and that Jimin’s shifting motions are brought on by the way he’s reached behind himself with a finger slick with their shared spit, working himself open.

It’s that realisation that becomes the last straw for any of Namjoon’s reserves. He feels so - so passive, not even prepping the man who’s about to take his cock. He’s lying on unforgiving steel, body used as a grinding post and mouth deeply plundered, just a mindless toy, dumbed down to pleasure and need. He isn’t even really aware of his own body where Jimin isn’t touching it; he isn’t too sure where in space his hands are, or what his feet are doing. His lips are for Jimin and his cock is for Jimin and that’s enough to make him light-headed.

When Jimin sits up, Namjoon grunts a bit and fights for some clarity to help line himself up against Jimin’s awaiting body, but the dom just tuts and rebuffs the advances, suiting himself. Part of his weight is on Namjoon’s right shoulder as he props himself up, slowly bearing the rest down so that the head of Namjoon’s cock pushes inside.

The moan that leaves Jimin’s mouth is enough to make Namjoon’s bones shake, wishing he could hear it on repeat, and the dom certainly seems to be doing his best to make it a reality with the enthusiastic way he works his hips down in tight circles, clenching around the intrusion.

Namjoon feels like he’s floating, the hard edges of steel no longer grounding him. He doesn’t lift his hands up to hold onto Jimin, he doesn’t fuck up into him, he’s barely even looking at him with how low his eyes are lidded, but there’s liberation in that inaction.

The pressure to perform is entirely lifted, and he feels the pleasure twofold, once from his own sensation and then again like an echo with every sigh and groan that leaves Jimin’s lips.

The dom has the stamina of an athlete, lifting a leg up onto the metal base beside Namjoon’s hips to gain better leverage, and Namjoon has a front row seat to the way the muscles in Jimin’s thighs flex. They’re corded and thick, such an erotic contrast to the softness of his ass, and Namjoon feels drunk off of it.

He lets Jimin take what he wants, and he feels, and that’s all.

He doesn’t even think, not really, nothing deeper than mindless observation.

Jimin is beautiful, like nobody he’d seen before, and the lack of makeup and unstyled hair certainly doesn’t change that. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and that he’s sharing this experience with Namjoon. He sits up, leaning backwards with a hand on Namjoon’s knee instead of his shoulder, and the first time he plunges down, his whole body is wracked with a violent tremor.

“I’m close,” he pants outs, eyes flicking down to Namjoon, a lazy grin appearing momentarily, onto to be knocked off by an expression of pure euphoria as he swaps the bouncing out for grinding. He rocks his hips back and forth, Namjoon buried deeply inside, and seeks out his own end irrelevant of the body that cock belongs to.

Namjoon doesn’t care, loves the near out-of-body experience he’s having, and wills the pleasure to simmer long enough for Jimin to come first.

When Jimin gets really close, he loses some of the fluidity in his movements and becomes jagged, seizing up more and more until he’s stock still, breaths staccato and mouth wide open. The physical release follows soon after, and Namjoon shudders as hot white paints the underside of his chin and his chest.

Jimin has a hand around himself, tugging out every last drop as he sucks in desperate lungfuls of air, slowly curling in on himself until his burning forehead is on Namjoon’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, chest heaving.

Namjoon reaches his end without even noticing. The pleasure throughout his whole body is so electric that an orgasm is barely a notch higher, more so a spreading warmth throughout his body. Wet where Jimin’s still joined to him, and damp everywhere else with perspiration, but it’s blissful nonetheless.

Jimin heaves himself back upright after a brief interlude, brows furrowed as he glances down at Namjoon. “Did you- oh,” he remarks, shifting a little and seeing the cum that’s split around the base of Namjoon’s cock. He lets out a deep sigh, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he tips his head back. “Okay, bye-bye dom.”

Namjoon’s mind slips back into awareness at a snail’s pace, feeling first the way his throat has dried up a little and his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth. Then his voice comes back to him, and he coughs a little, blinking up at the dom above him. “Does dom have a return date by chance? That was… fucking incredible,” he admits.

Jimin laughs, the action causing him to clench around Namjoon. With playful fingers, he reaches down and lightly pinches the fat of Namjoon’s cheeks. “You’re too cute,” he declares, before lifting himself up and off, clicking his tongue at the rush of wetness that drips down his legs. “Far out, it’s like you haven’t nutted in a year.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks heat against his best intentions. “That’s just normal.”

Jimin sends him a sharp look, searching his face. “Holy fuck,” he muses, stalking over to the nearest station to raid a small drawer of wet wipes, “and you’ve been letting that beast sit out in the cold every night instead of coming in here? Masochist.”

It takes all the energy left in his body to sit up, but Namjoon gratefully accepts a fresh wad of wipes and begins to clean himself off. “The beast doesn’t pay the bills,” he quips, already feeling more casual with Jimin after their intense shared experience.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to enjoy its company on your free time,” Jimin offers up, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze with what appears to be a shy streak as he dresses himself.

Namjoon smiles, appreciating the gorgeous sight of Jimin’s body before he covers up. Appreciating even more the way he feels so comfortable in his presence, enough to let go the way he did. “I’d like that.”

[albertasunrise]

Mistakes - Chapter 1

Summary: You’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Javier Peña. You were just another notch on his bedpost but you were a notch he kept revisiting. You know you should have stopped it, declined his offers to rock your world but you couldn’t and now you had to deal with the consequences. Consequences that you knew he would refuse to accept.

Warnings: Angst, References to sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mentions of Abortion

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

§

As you stared at those two lines you felt your stomach twist. How was this happening? You’d been careful, always using protection so how was it that you were now looking at a positive pregnancy test. You’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Javier Peña. You were just another notch on his bedpost but you were a notch he kept revisiting. You know you should have stopped it, declined his offers to rock your world but you couldn’t and now you had to deal with the consequences. Consequences that you knew he would refuse to accept.

‘Fuck.’ You sobbed as you placed the test down and picked up the other, it too telling you the same thing ‘Shit… What am I going to do?’

Were you ready to be a mum?

Should you get rid of it?

No, you’d never be able to do that.

You knew you had to tell him but how? How were you supposed to tell the most desired man at the embassy that your casual relations with him had led to this? A baby

You walked from the bathroom and sank onto the couch, placing the tests on the coffee table as you let your tears flow freely now. You were pulled from your cries by a knock at the door and after wiping your tears and letting out a few shaky breaths you answered, not getting a chance to see who it was but the familiar lips on yours told you. He kissed you with fervour but you can’t return it, you don’t want to and he senses that quickly.

‘What's the matter Cariño? He asked as he kissed down your neck ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all day.’

‘Don’t Javi.’ You said as you pushed him off of you, avoiding his gaze as you made your way back to the couch.

‘What the hell is up with you?’ He growled, angered by your rejection of his advances.

‘Javier please.’ You sobbed then, throwing your face into your hands.

Javier’s stomach sank, his anger replaced with worry as he sprinted to your side and dropped to his knees in front of you, missing the two sticks of plastic on your coffee table. He grabbed your hands and pulled them from your face, cupping it in his hands as he lifted it so your eyes were level with his.

‘What's going on?’ He asked, brow furrowed in concern ‘Has something happened?’

You could only nod, eyes settling on the tests that sat just behind him. His gaze followed yours and stopped on the offending items, eyes growing wide as he saw what they said and his head quickly whipped back to face you.

‘You’re?’

You nodded, letting out another sob as your hand unconsciously came to rest on your belly.

‘Who’s is it?’ He asked and this made you look up at him in disbelief.

‘Who’s do you think?’

‘Well, I don’t know who else you've been sleeping with.’ He grumbled and you gave him a chilling look before shifting out of his grasp.

‘Fuck you, Javier.’ You spat, shoulders shaking as you walked to your kitchen.

‘What?’

‘I haven’t slept with anyone else Javi.’ You announced, the cogs in his mind whirring ‘I haven’t been with anyone but you. Men don't exactly throw themselves at me.’

‘But we-.’ He paused as he took in the information ‘No this isn’t possible. How?’

‘I don’t fucking know Javi.’ You snapped ‘Condoms aren’t a hundred per cent effective, everyone knows that. I guess one failed.’

‘I…Uh.’ He stuttered, unsure of what to say ‘I’ll speak to Connie.’ He said finally ‘See if we can get you booked in for a termination.’

‘A termination?’

‘Well you’re not seriously considering keeping it are you?’ He inquired, his tone exasperated ‘I mean you’re in no position to raise a kid. We should get rid of it.’

‘Get the fuck out.’

‘Cariño.’

‘OUT!.’

‘Please just think about this. We can’t have a baby together. We fuck casually, I don’t want a relationship and I certainly don’t want a kid. I can’t give you what you want. You’ll be alone in this.’

‘That's fine Javi. I guessed I would be.’ You growled ‘You have no right however to tell me to get rid of it. I’m going to have this baby with or without you. Just know that they’ll never know you. I refuse to let them know a father that told me to get rid of them… Now get the fuck out of my house.’

‘Cariño.’

‘GO!.’

He left and you stood there, seething on the spot. You knew he wasn’t going to react well but you'd never expected him to suggest you terminate it. That had never been an option for you. You sobbed a little at the knowledge you’d be doing this alone, suddenly very aware of how alone you really were and after glancing at the clock and seeing was barely seven you decided to pay Connie a visit.

…

‘You’re what?’ She exclaimed, a little shocked by the news you'd just told her.

‘I was surprised too.’

‘Who’s is it?’

‘Connie…’

‘It’s Javi’s isn't it?’

‘Well, I haven’t been with anyone else since I arrived here a year ago.’ You confirmed and she gasped.

‘You told him?’ She asked

You nodded.

‘How did he take it?’

‘Told me to get rid of it.’

‘He what?’ She yelled and you flinched a little ‘Sorry.’ She apologised.

‘He said he doesn’t want a relationship, which I already knew, and that he doesn’t want kids. Told me it was for the best but it was never an option for me Con. I figured I’d be raising this baby alone. Just never thought he'd tell me to terminate it.’

‘He’s a fucking idiot.’ Piped up Steve, sipping from his beer ‘I can kick the shit out of him if you like.’

‘And what will that achieve?’ You chuckled ‘No, it's fine. This baby will never know him.’ You declared ‘I’ll make sure of it. It’ll never feel unwanted.’

~

Connie managed to get an appointment in the clinic for you to get your first scan and even attended it with you. As you lay were, shivering from the jelly that the doctor had squirted on your stomach it all became very real to you. Placing the prob on your skin, she started to move it around and you fixed your eyes on Connie, nerves starting to get the better of you.

Then you heard it.

‘There we are.’ Said the doctor as she turned the screen ‘See that little shape there?’ You nodded ‘That’s your baby.’ She stated ‘Judging from this I'd say you’re around 9 weeks along. Strong heartbeat. Everything looks good.’

‘Wow.’ Said Connie, her eyes glued to the screen ‘That’s the most wonderful thing I think I’ve ever seen, don’t you think?’

‘Yeah.’ You replied, letting out a choked sob as you watched your baby on the screen.

‘I shall print some pictures for you.’ Said the doctor, smiling at you both ‘Would you like some too?’ She asked Connie and the woman nodded eagerly.

…

‘So that thing there that looks like a cashew… that’s the baby?’ Asks Steve, nose scrunched as he studied the pictures.

‘Yup.’ You replied, grinning at him ‘I’ve grown a cashew.’

Connie giggled at that, refreshing your lemonade as you glanced at the pictures yourself.

‘Still can’t believe that there’s a tiny being growing inside of me.’ You said, a few stray tears slipping down your cheeks ‘I love them so much already and I haven’t even met them properly yet.’

‘It’s going to be so loved.’ Said Connie ‘I’ve already bought a tone of wool to knit it some cute bits.’

‘I didn’t know you knit!’

‘Ahhhh.’ Said Steve, waving the picture at you ‘She’s a woman of mystery my wife!’

~

‘Gah!’ Squealed Connie as you walked out of the changing room ‘Look at that bump!’ She squealed with excitement ‘How have you been hiding that from us?’

Connie had dragged you out to find a dress for the office Christmas Party. You really didn’t want to go, you were four months pregnant and still suffering from sickness a little but Connie had begged you to come shopping with her and that’s when she’d found this dress for you. A pale mint green that suited your complexion perfectly.

‘Baggy t-shirts and loose blouses my friend.’ You replied with a wink ‘What do you think?’ You asked as you gave her a twirl, the sundress accentuating your growing belly ‘Doesn’t just make me look fat does it?’

‘NO!’ She practically screamed ‘You are glowing.’

‘Do we have to go to this party?’ You groaned ‘I can’t drink so it's going to be a bore for me.’

‘I’ll stay sober with you!’ announces Connie, determined to convince you to come.

‘Is Javi going?’

‘Doubt it.’ She replied ‘Not really his scene.’ She paused, pulling her best puppy eyes ‘Please.’

‘Fine.’ You groaned ‘But you have to stay sober.’

‘Promise.’

~

‘You said he wouldn’t be here.’ You snapped at Connie, seething at the sight of Javier drinking at the bar with Steve.

The hall was decorated with traditional Christmas decorations, a large tree at the centre of the far wall twinkled with fairy lights that gave an aura of magic to the room.

‘I said I doubted he’d come.’ She retorted, raising her hands in mock surrender.

‘I need to leave.’

‘No, you’re here now. Come on.’ She begs ‘You don’t have to speak to him.’

You’d managed to avoid him pretty well since announcing to him that you were having his baby and he’d avoided you too. Steve kept you up to date and you knew that he hadn’t asked about you or the baby and that had made it crystal clear for you. You really were in this alone. There had been a small part of you that hoped he'd change his mind, tell you he wanted this. Wanted you but you knew you were fooling yourself. Javier Peña doesn’t settle and he certainly wouldn’t settle for a girl like you.

‘Come on, let's get us a drink.’

‘No alcohol remember.’ You remind her, and she rolled her eyes.

‘Yes, I know.’ She groaned.

You noticed Javier looking at you from the corner of your eye when you approached the bar but you didn’t return his gaze, you kept your eyes fixed on Connie as you flagged down the barman with one hand and cradled your bump with the other. Thumb stroking the fabric that covered your swell.

…

Javier studied you as Steve talked to him about a game he’d caught on the weekend. You looked good. Simple makeup, hair up in a loose bun with few curls framing your face and the sundress you wore suited you perfectly. As his eyes trailed over your body before they settled on your hand, the way it sat on your stomach highlighting your growing bump.

‘She’s showing.’ He said suddenly as his eyes growing wide, stopping Steve dead.

‘What?’ He asked, a little confused at the change of subject.

‘She’s showing.’ He said again and Steve followed his gaze to you, also noting your swollen stomach.

‘Shit yeah, she is.’ He replied, smiling to himself ‘You’ve been a fucking ass to her.’

“What?’ Javier snapped.

‘She’s four months pregnant with your baby and not once have you asked how she is. How the pregnancy’s going. Nothing.’

‘I don’t want it.’

‘Doesn’t fucking matter Javi.’ Steve scolded ‘You are that babies father and you’re doing fuck all to help her. What would your dad think if he knew?’

‘Steve-.’

‘She’s fine by the way. In case you do give a shit.’ He interrupted ‘Con’s been taking really good care of her. Went to her first scan, got her a bunch of books. Been arranging all her appointments for her.’ He took a swig of his whiskey ‘Baby’s doing well too. Cooking nicely.’

‘That’s great’ Javier growled, downing the last of his drink and storming out.

…

You noticed him leave but you didn't care. If anything, you were relieved. The rest of the evening went fairly well after that. He did come back but he avoided you and you did the same. You danced, you laughed and you enjoyed yourself for the first time in that felt like years, your worries melting away. For a night you didn't worry about the future. The fact that you had no family to help you raise the baby or that its father didn't want it. You just focused on your friends, the music and yourself.

~

‘Thank you for arranging this Con.’ You said as you took her hand ‘You’ve been so amazing.’

It had been a month since the Christmas party and you’d not seen Javier since. You were a little surprised that you hadn’t run into him in the hall since your apartments were across from each other but you suspected that wasn't an accident but it didn't bother you. He was going you the space you’d demanded.

‘What are best friends for?’ She replied, smiling at you sweetly.

‘Well, they don’t normally arrange all your antenatal appointments for you.’

‘I work at the clinic.’ She chuckled ‘Easy for me to sort it for you.’ She gave your hand a squeeze ‘You nervous?’

‘A little.’ You confessed ‘Last time I was here they were teeny.’ You continued ‘Now look at me.’ You finished as you motioned to your very visible bump.

‘You’ll be able to learn the sex.’ Connie stated and you looked at her with comically wide eyes ‘You want to know?’

‘More than anything.’ You admitted ‘Been killing me not knowing. Makes getting for it things hard.’ You giggled.

Your name was called and you were led into a familiar room where you laid on the bed and lifted your shirt like before, hissing at the cold of the jelly again. She places the probe on your belly and moved it around, finding the baby quickly this time. You swooned at the sound of their heartbeat, the consistent thump making your own race.

‘Oh my.’ Squealed Connie ‘Look at it.’ She lamented, tears trickling down her cheeks ‘Hi.’ She giggled when its hand came into view.

‘Would you like to know the sex?’ The doctor asked and you nodded, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as they focused on the screen again ‘Well it looks to me like you’re having a baby girl.’ She said after a few moments, turning the screen so you could see better ‘Congratulations.’

‘A girl?’ You asked, eyes widening and the doctor nodded.

‘Mhmm.’

‘You’re having a girl.’ Connie squealed and you look up at her with tear-filled eyes.

‘I’m having a girl.’ You grinned, laughing as you sobbed with joy.

‘I’ll print lots of pictures again.’ The doctor said, grinning at your reaction.

You practically skipped out of the clinic pictures in hand and Steve waved at you as you clambered into his truck, giggling as Connie shoved the pictures into his hand.

‘Well, now I can tell it’s a baby.’ He said and you rolled your eyes.

‘That's my daughter you’re talking about.’ You declared and he turned to face you and beamed.

~

‘You boys done?’ Asked Connie as she stopped beside the table, noting that Steve had eaten all his food but Javier had barely touched his.

They’d been pouring over paperwork and pictures for hours and coming up empty-handed. Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at his partner’s wife and gave her a weak smile.

‘Um yeah… Thanks, Con.’

‘Nah come on, finish your food.’ Grumbled Steve ‘You’ve not eaten all day.’

‘I guess I just don’t have much of an appetite.’ Stated Javier as he pushed his plate away.

He hadn’t had one since he’d seen you at that Christmas party. Seeing you there glowing, round with his child, had brought out all these feelings in him that he was struggling with. He wasn’t sure what it was he was feeling but he knew that he missed you. Pined for you. That was painfully clear to him.

‘You never do.’ Steve retorted, pulling him from his thoughts ‘You live off of ex and Whiskey. Amazed you’re not thinner.’

‘Fuck off Murphy.’ He growled, grabbing his beer and drinking the last of it before placing it down on the counter in the kitchen ‘Thanks for Din…’ He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of your sonogram pictures, your name and the date above the very clear image of a baby ‘Is this?...’

‘Your baby?’ Snapped Steve and Javier flinched at his change in tone ‘Yup.’

‘She had her 20-week scan yesterday.’ Said Connie softly, watching the way Javier’s eyes softened as he studied the image ‘Here.’ She handed him some more pictures and there was one that caught his attention in particular, a very visible hand above them giving the illusion that they were waving ‘She’s already waving and she’s not even been born yet.’ Connie chuckled as she grabbed his bottle and placed it in the glass bin.

‘She?’ He said suddenly, head whipping up to look at Connie with tears pooling in his eyes ‘It’s a girl?’

‘Yeah.’ She replied, grinning as she nodded excitedly ‘Got so many patterns to do and now I can buy some girly wool. Can’t believe there’s going to be a baby around here soon!’

His hand flew up to his mouth as he let out a sob, eyes returning to the picture that now shook in his grasp as tears splash on its shiny surface. This was a life he’d helped create and it was growing inside of you. He realised how stupid he’d been and he suddenly felt overwhelmed.

‘Hey.’ Said Connie softly as she pulled him into a hug and he sobbed against her shoulder, his body shaking as he cried.

‘I’m going to have a daughter.’ He sobbed ‘And she’ll never know who I am.’

‘You can change that Javier.’ Said Connie, pulling away to look him in the eye ‘You still have a chance to be part of this baby’s life but you need to do something about it.’

‘They’re better off without me.’

‘Seeing these pictures here, how do they make you feel?’ She questioned, glancing at Steve who is watching his partner carefully.

‘I don’t know.’ He answered honestly.

‘When you see her. The baby girl that you helped create. Do you want to know her?’ She asked, hand on his arm rubbing comforting circles.

‘Yes.’ He choked out, eyes drifting up to Connie.

‘Then there is your answer.’ She stated ‘You have a chance to be a part of your daughter’s life but only if you act.’

‘She said I’d never know them.’ He sobbed ‘She swore it.’

‘You had just told her to get an abortion.’ Piped up Steve and Connie threw him an angry look.

‘How about I speak to her. Arrange for the three of us to sit down and talk this all out.’ She suggested and Javier nodded weakly ‘Give me a few days.’

‘Okay.’

~

‘Absolutely not!’ You yelled, angry tears streaming down your cheeks ‘I don’t want to speak to him.’

‘But-.’

‘No buts Con.’ You snarled ‘He wants nothing to do with her and she’ll never know him.’

‘He saw your ultrasound pictures the other night.’ She stated and you looked at her with a confused expression, unsure of where this was going ‘He sobbed when he learned that you’re having a girl. I slipped up when he saw the waving picture. He cried his eyes out. He wants a chance to be a part of her life. You need to give him that chance hun.’ She pleaded ‘Just come round tonight. We’ll talk it out and see what happens.’

‘Why does he suddenly care?’

‘I think the ultrasound made it more real for him.’ She said, shrugging slightly ‘I think him seeing those pictures made him realise he wants this. He just hadn’t known before.’

‘Fine.’ You grumbled ‘But if he steps even a toe out of line, I will make sure he never meets her.’

‘Shit, okay…’ Connie breathed, a little taken aback by your statement ‘See you later.’

~

You sat nervously at Connie’s table, waiting for Javier to arrive. She’d decided that dinner was perhaps not the best way to talk things through, too many ways to get out of not saying anything at all. You rubbed your swollen belly, feeling your stomach twist in knots as you ran through the possible scenarios for how this would go. You weren’t expecting him to confess his love for you and the two of you skip away together, one big happy family. You weren’t sure what you were expecting.

‘That’s him.’ Said Connie as a knock sounded at the door and you felt your heart begin to race.

‘Just breath.’ You said to yourself, glancing up as Connie and Javier appeared through the doorway.

‘Hi.’ He said gingerly, rubbing the back of his neck as he oozed nervousness.

‘Hi.’ You replied, short and curt.

‘Javi why don’t you sit down.’ Said Connie as she pointed to the chair across from you ‘I’ll grab you a beer.’

‘Thanks.’ He replied, giving her a quick nod before taking a seat.

‘How are you?’ He asked in an attempt to break the silence and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘Really?’

‘What?’

'It’s been 5 months and now you want to do small talk?’

‘Carino I-.’

‘I’d appreciated it if you didn’t call me that.’ You growled ‘I’m not your sweetheart.’

‘Here.’ Said Connie as she placed the beer in front of him and he gave her a weak smile.

‘Thanks.’

You all sat there in awkward silence before Connie finally decided that enough was enough. She slammed the sonogram pictures on the table along with some shoes she’d clearly knitted herself. They were tiny and brought tears to your eyes as you studied them. A pale pink with white toes and a large brown wooden button fastened them shut.

‘We all know why we're here.’ She began, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms ‘You are having a baby together. Javier, you have made some big mistakes in how you dealt with the news but I know that you want to make amends and you want a chance to be involved.’ She paused and he glanced up at her before looking at you with the saddest expression you’d ever seen ‘Hun I understand why you’re upset with him. When you first told me what he’d said I almost stormed down there to castrate him myself.’ That made Javier wince ‘But you need to do what’s best for her.’ She declared as she leaned forward and lifted one of the scans so you could see it more clearly ‘You’re going to be parents in less than four months. Don’t you want to give your baby the best possible start? With both her of parents in her life?’

‘Javi’s married to the job.’ You grumbled and he winced at the fact you were about him as if he wasn't there ‘I don’t want to do this alone. I am terrified, but I can’t be worrying about him letting me and the baby down.’

‘May I speak?’ He pipped up and both you and Connie looked at him, your expression expectant ‘I did fuck up. I freaked out. I came to Columbia to make a difference, I never expected to meet someone that I’d come to care for and I certainly never expected to end up having a baby with said person. I won’t lie. I was sure I didn’t want it. I genuinely thought it would be better off without me but when I saw you at the party, your small bump under that dress I realised how much I missed you and how much I was missing out on.’ He paused, scraping a hand over his tired face ‘When I saw these I felt something I’d never expected to feel. I felt a swell of happiness inside as I looked at my baby and when Connie told me it was a girl… Well.’ He paused again, looking down at the sonogram in his hand ‘I knew that I wanted to be a part of her life. I want it all.’

‘Javier-.’

‘I’m not expecting you to take me back.’ He interrupted and you sat there with your mouth hanging open ‘But I want to be there for you... For you both. If you’ll let me.’

‘I uh-.’ You sit there with a gobsmacked expression plastered over your face.

You’d not expected that.’

‘I want to be there when she comes, hold your hand as you push our baby girl into this world. I want to hold her when she cries, sing her to sleep, albeit badly, and I want to support you. Take some of the load. I didn’t realise how much I wanted this, wanted her until I was faced with the possibility of never being able to have it.’

You sit there in silence. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you and Javier gaze at each other, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as he leant forward and took your hand.

‘I swear to you that she will be my number one priority.’ He stated ‘I will move heaven and Earth for her.’

‘Okay.’ You replied, nodding lightly ‘But I need to know that when it comes down to the wire. She’s the one you choose.’

‘I will.’ He replied, smiling sweetly at you.

The rest of the evening went smoothly after that. You discussed arrangements. Agreed that he could come to your final scan before the baby was born and discussed living together initially afterwards. You’d ended up deciding on his apartment as it had a spare room and was larger although agreed it was a good idea to keep yours in case the arrangement didn’t work. You both hugged Connie goodnight. Thanked her for helping the two of your settle your differences and made your way down to your respective apartments but there was no longer an awkward air hanging over you both. Just quiet acceptance.

‘Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.’ He said sweetly, giving your hand a friendly squeeze as you came to a stop outside your front door.

‘Connie was right.’ You started, squeezing his back ‘We need to do what’s best for her.’

Smiling, he gave you a nod and a peck on the cheek ‘Good night Carino.’ He said softly, his eyes sparkling.

‘Why don’t you come in.’ You said, giving him a small smile ‘It’s still early and it would be good to talk a little more.’

‘Sure.’ He replied, following you in as you opened your door.

‘I haven’t got any alcohol I’m afraid.’ You snickered ‘Made me sad having it and not being able to drink it.’

‘That’s fine.’ He replied, smirking at you.

‘I probably have some coffee in the cupboard or I can make you a herbal tea.’

‘I’m fine.’ He replied as he let out a giggle ‘Don’t fuss.’

‘Right.’ You replied, lowering yourself onto the couch with one hand cradling your bump. ‘I look forward to being able to sit down on the couch again gracefully.’ You grumbled ‘Why they gave me an apartment with such a low one I will never know. Perhaps they knew I was going to get pregnant!.’

‘Perhaps.’ He replied as he sat down across from you and you turned your head to look at him.

‘So.’ You breathed.

‘So.’ He returned.

‘I have been trying to think of names.’ You started, leaning forward to grab the list you’d made and handed it to him.

‘These are all Spanish names?’ He questioned, giving you a bemused look.

‘Well, she’d going to have a little Mexican in her.’ You chuckled ‘Just because I hated you, didn't mean I wanted to deny her heritage.’

‘I deserved that.’ He replied with a wince ‘Well I have an aunt called Regina.’ He started, looking down the list’ She smells like beats and repeats herself all the time.

‘Veto on Regina.’

‘I like Elena and Luna.’ He continued ‘Oh and Rosa.’

‘Spooky.’ You said, catching his attention.

‘What is?’

‘Those are all my favourites.’ You replied with a smile and he beamed back at you.

You sat for a few minutes in comfortable silence, the two of you gazing at each other as you rubbed circles on your belly.

‘Whoah!.’ You said suddenly as you sat upright, eyes widening and you looked down at your belly.

‘What is it?’ He asked, his tone a little panicked.

‘She’s moving.’ You replied, grinning at him ‘Come feel. Shit, that’s weird.’

‘You sure?’ He asked, a little surprised at how ready you were to allow him back in.

‘Yes! Come on before she stops!’

He scooted over towards you, smiling when you grabbed his hand and placed it over your bump. For a few moments there was nothing and then… kick.

‘Whoah!’

‘Freaky right?’ You giggled.

‘Very!’

‘Imagine what it’s like for me. She’s doing it from inside.’ You chuckled and he grinned at you ‘She’s gotta be dancing the tango in there. Jesus!’

‘Hey, little one.’ Said Javi as he lowered his face towards your swollen belly ‘Settle down now. Mummy’s very happy to feel you moving but no need to overdo it.’

You chucked as you watched him talk to her, feeling her settle down inside of you and you rolled your eyes as he looked up at you.

‘Of course, she listened to you.’ You grumbled and Javier just shrugged.

You gazed at each other again, feeling the air between you crackle as he shifted himself so that he was more upright but no further from you. You saw his eyes drop to your lips and your own followed suit, tongue darting out to wet it before letting out a shaky breath in anticipation. As he pressed his lips to yours it was unhurried like it had been in the past. It was soft yet passionate and you felt yourself melting into it but soon it became heated, hands groping and tugging as you both desperately tried to deepen it.

‘I missed you.’ He whispered against your lips before his own started planting kisses down your neck.

‘Fuck.’ You moaned, feeling his actions going straight to your core but then your brain kicked in ‘Javi, Javi… Stop.’

‘What’s wrong?’ He asked as he pulled away, brows furrowed in concern.

‘As much as I’d love to revisit that.’ You started as you placed your hand on his chest ‘We need to take this slow. I can’t just go jumping back into bed with you. I need time to trust you again but if you’re serious about this then I need some proof.’

‘I want this. I want us.’ He urged, kissing you again with fervour.

‘And that's wonderful.’ You replied, pecking his lips ‘But I need a little time to process. Is that okay?’

‘Of course.’ He replied, flashing you a warm smile ‘We’ll take this as slow as you like.’

‘Why don’t we start with you staying over. We can talk a bit more, get to know each other again and then you can make me breakfast in the morning.’ You suggested, with a wink.

‘I think that can be arranged.’ He replied, pressing a tender kiss on your lips.

~

Chapter 2

[viking-raider]

The Immortal Sky - Part VII *Mature*

Summary: It’s a battle to survive and not everyone will make it.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 17,431

Rating: M - Dystopian!AU, Futuristic!AU, Language, Dark Themes: Severe Angst, Violence, Torture, Kidnapping, Traumatic Death, Blood, Life Threatening Injures, Severe Trauma, Life Changing Events, Hurt/Comfort, and a teeny bit of Fluff

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

Author’s Note: This is the final official Chapter of The Immortal Sky, I will be doing a short Epilogue to round things out though. I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for all the love, comments and support! A super thanks to @wondersofdreaming​ for being a great support, listening to my crazy thoughts, giving me amazing suggestions and ideas, and just being an all around amazing friend!

You gasped, sitting up on your elbows, heart pounding and drenched in a cold sweat as the nightmare continued to dig its claws into your waking moments.

“Henry?” You called out, instinctively, before remembering he wasn't there.

Still.

Letting out a hard and shaky breath, you dropped back onto the mattress, damp from your sweat. You stared up at the ceiling, gripping the blankets in shaking fists as hot and furious tears dripped over your temples and into your hair.

“He isn't coming back.” You choked on your own snot. “They've captured and killed him, I just know it. He's died trying to protect me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. To make up for it, so his pain and death weren't in vain.” You took gasping breaths and only choked more on your tears. “I'm so sorry Henry. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You wailed, crying without abandon.

You beat your fists on the mattress, outraged at your negativity and ease of giving up on him. Henry wouldn't have given up on you, he would have stayed strong and came for you, like he had when you ran away from him in London. Jerking up, you sat on the edge of the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking under your shifting weight.

“He's still alive.” You forced yourself to say out loud. “Henry is still alive, and I will find him.”

Resolved to this conviction, you stood up and dressed, pressing his shirt to your face and took a deep breath, inhaling his earthy and masculine scent, fortifying you, before slipping it on over your own shirt and finished tying your shoelaces. You weren't completely sure what to do or how to go about finding, and potentially saving, Henry. You weren't the amazing and seasoned High Marshal Henry was, is. You tried putting yourself in his shoes, hard as it was to fill size eleven boots. So, you started in the only place that made sense to you, the Black Bone pub, where your brother and his handler were known to frequent. So, locking your room, you trekked the six blocks from the hotel to the dingy pub, heart pounding in your throat as you entered.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked you as you approached the counter.

“Um,” You looked at the stained menu taped to the bar top. “A Virgin Mojito, please.”

The bartender lifted a brow at you, shrugged his shoulders and turned away from you. A minute later, he set the tall glass in front of you and held out his hand, wanting payment. Sighing, you dug out the meager change you had and slapped it into his hand, picked up your drink and took a seat in the corner, the same corner you occupied with Henry the day before.

You tried your best to look as inconspicuous as you possibly could, keeping your eyes on the tv, like Henry had, swirling your drink with the thin black straw inside of it and checking out everyone in the room from the corner of your vision. It was slightly more busy than it had been the morning before, but there was no sign of your brother, Knox or Henry. What your inexperienced eye failed to notice, was the bartender keeping his eye on you, for several minutes, before going to the back of the store room and making a phone call.

“Yeah, Ashe. It's me, Bruce, the owner of the Black Bone. You asked me to keep an eye out for a lady.” He rattled off your description. “Told me to call if I saw her around.”

“And?” Ashe replied, staring at the black, web-like, 3-D printed cast on the hand he busted in his fight with Henry.

“She's back.” Bruce told him, stepping out of the store room and peeking around the corner, to make sure you were still there, clearly ignoring your drink. “Sitting in a booth, right now.”

“Excellent.” Ashe grinned, wolfishly. “I'll be right over, let me know if she leaves.”

Bruce hung up with Ashe and moved back to serve his new customers, keeping his eye on you the whole time. You finally took a sip of your drink, the mint was refreshing to your taste-buds with the slight twinge of the lime's tartness, when the door of the pub chimed as it opened and from the corner of your eye you saw who entered, making your blood run cold, the man from the day before, who had given Henry the creeps and chased you both down the alleyway. Your hands shook as he glanced in your direction, a faint smirk on his thin lips, you noticed the cast on his arm and drew conclusions; knowing he and Henry must have gotten into a fight. Wishing you had the bartender put the rum into your drink after all, you gulped it down and tried to get up as casually and calmly as possible, eyes darting to the lopsided and hand written sign above the bathroom door and headed that direction.

The bathroom was big enough for a discolored and filthy toilet and a teeny window above that. Locking the bathroom door, you climbed top of the toilet, wobbling on the unstable tank to peek out the cloudy windowpane. There was another alleyway behind the pub, but you couldn't see where either end of it led out too, but you weren't going back out into the bar area with Ashe there, waiting to pounce on you. The window was wedged into the frame, sticking it into place from years of hard rains and freezing winters, swelling and warping the wood. Biting your lip, you started bashing it with the heel of your hand, the wood protesting and squeaking with each blow, until it suddenly flew open.

Glancing over your shoulder to the latched door as the dented handle started to rattle, you wasted no time, jumping and diving halfway through the window, legs flailing and kicking the dingy wall. Scrambling to get a footing and wiggle the rest of the way through the window, the rough wood scraping and cutting up your sides and ripping holes into your jacket. The bathroom door started to shake, a shoulder driving into it, you knew it wouldn't be long before Ashe busted through and hauled you out of the bathroom. Growling in frustration, you kicked hard at the wall, breaking through the crumbling drywall and used it to boost yourself up more. Punching more and more holes into the wall with your feet to you wiggle and shimmy through the window.

You gasped as your hips passed through the window frame and scrambled to get a footing on the other side, before you fell face first into a pile of two week old trash. You had just managed to flip yourself as you fell out of the window, landing on your butt on top of the overstuffed black plastic bags with a grunt. The eruption of Ashe charging through the bathroom door exploded above you, followed by his flurry of curses as his head popped through the window, the only thing small enough to fit through it.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared, pushing an arm through the window with his head to try and grab at you.

You struggled to your feet and stumbled away from Ashe and the window, out of breath and bleeding. Knowing he wasn't going to get through the window, Ashe jerked back inside and stormed out of the bathroom, shoving and knocking people aside as they came to see what all the commotion was about. Not waiting around for Ashe to reach you, you bolted down the alleyway, slipping on the slimy pavement and tripping over trash, just making it to the end, when two shadows blocked the way. Startled, you tried twisting around to run the other way, but they were faster than you were, grabbing the hood of your jacket and yanked you back, making you choke in the process.

“You ain't going anywhere.” One of them huffed as you were slammed chest first into the wall, scraping the side of your face on the rough surface.

Your arms were harshly yanked behind you and hands slipped through the loops of thick black cuffs, before your captor pressed a button on the handle connecting the cuffs and they automatically tightened around your wrists, painfully cutting off circulation and into your skin. They jerked you off the wall and faced you out of the alleyway, one of them clamped a hand down on your shoulder, making you whimper in pain and try to shrink away from him, only to be struck in the side.

“You should have stayed in London.” Ashe's angry voice growled as he approached the three of you, pinching your chin between his fingers. “Or just not have been born at all.” He hissed, letting go of your head with a jerk. “Get her in the van.” He ordered the two men, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, to the van parked at the curb, its back sliding door open and waiting.

You looked up and down the sidewalk as they pushed and shoved you towards the van, frantically hoping someone would see the four of you and rush to help you, stop them for kidnapping you. But, as you looked at the full street, you noticed everyone looking everywhere but at you, not wanting to get involved, knowing doing so would land them in the same hot water you were finding yourself in. But, to your utter shock, one face did look back at you, just as stunned to see you as you were to see them.

“Michail.” You mouthed, blinking like it was just a fragment of your frantic mind. “Mikey!” You screamed out, realizing it wasn't your mind toying with you, before you were thrown into the van and the door was slammed shut behind you.

“Let's go grab a pint.” Knox said, throwing on his jacket. “Come on, Keagan, one pint won't kill you. We have a load of time before your first big run.”

Michail sighed and rubbed at his face, his back ached from hunching over the map of his first run as an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. He had been staring at it non-stop for two weeks and the run was due to happen in three days. But, Knox was right, an hour's break to enjoy a frothy pint at the pub would do him and his brain some good. So, stiffly raising from his chair, he grabbed his own jacket and followed Knox to the lift and down the four floors to the ground floor and out onto the street. They chatted about the run as they walked down to the Black Bone, Knox's usual establishment for a good pint, hammering out more details and clearing up any misunderstanding about what was to go down, once it did happen.

But, they were interrupted by a small scuffle ahead of them, near the pub.

Looking away from each other and to the altercation, they saw three sizable men roughly handling a woman, her hands tied behind her back. Michail felt the breath in his lungs freeze and his heart drop out into his stomach as he met the woman's eye, watching her mouth his name, before yelling it out.

“Mikey!”

“Issy?” He whispered back, too stunned to manage anything louder before you were manhandled into the van.

“You know that woman, Mike?” Knox asked, his eyes panning between the speeding away van and him.

“She's my sister.” Mikey replied, his mouth hanging open, shocked and speechless to not only find you in Bristol, but being carted away by those ruffians. “But, she should be back in London.” He blinked, slowly regaining himself. “What the hell is she doing here in Bristol? Do you know who those guys were?” He asked, looking at Knox.

“Only one of them.” Knox replied, narrowing his eyes. “The blond is Ashe James, he works as a free agent, working several different jobs in every Sector.”

“Why would he take my sister like that?” Mikey asked himself, deeply troubled.

“We'll find out later, let's get that pint.” Knox answered, clasping Mikey on the back and pushed him towards the pub.

Henry spit nothing, but blood, as Emilio gave him another crack punch to the face; which was multicolored and inflamed. A cut high on the bridge of his bloody nose and upper lip, his bottom lip was split and bleeding as well, blood caked in his beard and curls, as well as his chest; soaking into the fabric of his jeans. His eyes burned from the unyielding and bright lights illuminating the room. He was spent and exhausted, leaning forward with his head lulling and eyes half rolled and swollen shut. A forest of marks and box cutter cuts littered his body, partiality around the surgical site of his artificial kidney. He was more than sure every one of his ribs were broken or cracked, making him wheeze and hiss with every breath he took.

Henry wasn't sure how much more of he could take, but that didn't mean he would break.

“I don't think you have much more blood in you, mate?” Emilio huffed, shaking his throbbing hand, his fingers puffy and bruised from hitting Henry so many times. “Usually, the people I—set straight—have given up by now. But, no. Not you, you're tough. I respect that.” He said, shrugging his sore shoulders.

“To a point.” He chuckled, slapping Henry in the back of the head, making him whimper. “Why don't you tell my boss where the girl is? Then, we can let you off. But, if you don't, you'll just end up dying here.”

Henry remained quiet, he had run out of witty and smart-ass comments hours before. So, he kept his mouth shut and reserved his energy and strength to withstand their assault on him. The one saving light was the thought of you safe and sound in your room. He knew, by now, you were freaking out and panicking. There were no clocks and only one mirror that Henry knew, without a doubt, was a two way, but he could catch a glimpse of Emilio's expensive watch. He had been in the room for nearly twelve hours, all night and most of the morning.

He sighed, grimacing as he swallowed another mouthful of blood that was pooling in his mouth from his bloody nose, cut lip and the cuts on the inside of his cheeks; his stomach cramped and twisted as he swallowed it down, adding to his discomfort. His mind started to wonder, his pain was beginning to numb his battered nerve-endings, he wondered how much longer he would survive, what blow would potentially kill him.

He counted each blow.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door came flying open and Benji waltzed in, the door slamming closed behind him, as he grinned and looked chipper after getting a good night's rest, having left not long after Henry's torture started. But, he seemed overly happy, too happy, for Henry to be comfortable with, he knew something. That's when Henry's fear finally spiked and his abused body tensed and his bloodshot, blue orbs widened with panic, showing that growing ounce of fear outwardly for the first time.

“Well, Mr. Cavill, I see that you are still alive!” Benji quipped with an amused smile, grabbing the back of Henry's sweaty and bloody curls, and jerked his head back, roughly. “I am quite impressed by your stamina. I bet the ladies love it.” He teased, lowering himself to meet Henry's gaze.

“I have a surprise for you, Henry.” He cooed, menacingly, his brown eyes darkening to a black hole of evil and danger. “I'm quite sure you'll be relieved to see it.” He said softly, running a finger over the freshly bleeding cut on Henry's brow, making him hiss as heavy beads of sweat mixed into it, then straightened up.

“Bring it in!” He yelled, moving away from Henry and turned towards the two way mirror.

The door swung open again, revealing Ashe, who pressed his back against it, to keep it open, and motion into the hall for someone to come forward. Henry's shoulders fell with his face, the last bit of his strength he had draining out of him as you were shoved into the room, stumbling and almost falling if Ashe hadn't grabbed the handle of your zip cuffs and steadied you.

Your mouth dropped open seeing the pitiful and terrifying condition Henry was in, covered in blood, bruises, cuts and god knows what else. You struggled to swallow down your throbbing heart and blinked back the searing tears that burned your eyes, biting hard into your lip to keep yourself from falling apart. Henry licked his split and chapped lips and blinked slowly at you, trying to keep himself together, but not to cry, but to not lose his temper, his muscles flexing as his anger flared and surged beneath his blue and purple, blood covered skin, straining in his restraints, like a bull seeing red.

“Two very different reactions.” Benji commented, watching the pair of you through the two-way mirror. “Interesting.” He hummed, turning on the heels of his expensive dress shoes. “I've been looking for you.” He said, stepping closer to you. “Thank you for making it so easy to find and get a hold of you.”

He smiled, touching the tip of his finger to your cheek and drew a smiley face on it.

In Henry's blood.

“Release her hands.” He ordered, snapping his fingers.

“Boss, is that a good idea?” Ashe asked, hesitating with the key to your cuffs. “She's pretty cunning.”

Benji's cool broke and slapped Ashe across the face, ripping the key out of his hand and releasing the cuffs from around your wrists. “I know what she is, you moron. But, what is she going to do? They're in my house, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of my men. Even if, they managed to get out of this room, they wouldn't make it out of the hall, before we either killed or incapacitated them. So,” He smirked at you, giving you a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let's leave them be.” He chuckled, making a motion with his hand and cleared the room, other than you and Henry.

You stood frozen for several moments, unable to move as you and Henry stared at each other, your silent tears finally escaping down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You sniffled, gulping thickly.

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, groaning and gently shaking his head. He knew, he knew you had left the room to come look for him, the guilt and evidence of it was all over your face. “It's all right.” He finally replied, his voice dry and raspy. “I know you were scared.”

“I was worried.” You whimpered, slowly approaching him. “I still am.” You told him, dropping to your knees before him, looking over his battered body. “I'm sorry, Henry. I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. Least of all, you.”

Your emotions started to overwhelm you, reaching out to gently cup his face in your shaking palms and pushed up on your toes to touch your forehead to his temple. Henry frowned and nudged your face with his, trying to give you what comfort he could, while still tied to the chair. Your wet cheek smeared more blood on the both of you, as you wrapped your arms loosely around his bare waist.

“I told you to wait for me.” He whispered, meeting your damp eyes.

“I tried.” You protested, pulling back from him. “But, I-” You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“I told you, I'd come back for you.”

“How?” You snapped, incredulous. “You're tied to a fucking chair and practically bleeding to death!”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you. “I'll be fine, I just needed more time. I've done this before.” He told you, shaking his head, then regretting it.

“That doesn't make me feel any better or convince me, Henry.” You replied with a huff. “How are we going to get out of here?” You asked, lowering your voice, sure they were eavesdropping.

“I'll think of something.” Henry answered, looking around the room, but there was very little to aid you in that endeavor. “Just stay strong for me.” He added, turning his face into yours, his chapped lips brushing your ear.

“Nugget.”

Benji stood in the room adjoined to the interrogation room you and Henry were held in, watching the two of you interact and talk, when a phone started to ring. Flexing his hands, Benji turned on his men, glaring each of them in the eyes until one of them shied away from his gaze.

“Answer it, Luis.” He hissed at the smaller man. “Now!” He roared, making everyone flinch.

Luis slipped a shaking hand into his pocket and pulled out his mobile, flipping it open and answering it. “Hello?” He squeaked, his voice high pitched with fright. “Um,--” He shuttered, eyes glued to Benji. “It's Monroe, Sir. He's asking about the girl, why she was nabbed this morning.” He explained, holding his phone out to Benji.

“Knox!” Benji roared into the receiver. “Why are you asking about the girl?” He demanded.

“My new Runner, they know each other.” Knox replied, cool as ice, he was used to Benji's outbursts. “We saw Ashe and the boys dragging her out of the Black Bone, she saw us too, and called out Keagan's name. When I asked how she knew him, he answered that she was his sister.”

“Her brother?” Benji said slowly, turning back to the mirror and staring at you as you huddled close to Henry. “Bring him to me, I want you here within the hour.”

“You got it, boss.” Knox replied, hanging up.

“The bubble of intrigue just keeps growing around this girl.” He said, studying you. “I love it.”

“I just got a call from headquarters.” Knox said as he approached Mikey at their table. “We need to go in, they're having a Runner meeting we need to attend to get the new details on our run in a couple days.” He explained.

“All right.” Mikey nodded, wiping the foam off his upper lip as he finished off his pint. “Are we going straight there?” He asked, standing up.

“Yep.” Knox nodded, clapping him on the back and directing him to the door, waving to the bartender as they left.

They hailed a cab to the Hernandez building, it was the tallest building in all of Bristol, showing the power, presence and money they had, running their empire of drugs and violence. The twenty minute ride there was quiet, and Knox almost felt bad for Mikey, knowing the kid had zero clue what was about to happen to him, but he wasn't sorry for the fact he was related to you, who could possibly bring down the business that kept him employed and out of the Slums.

“Mr. Hernandez is expecting us.” Knox told the receptionist at the front desk.

Nodding her head, the receptionist picked up her phone, dialed a number and waited for it to pick up. “Mr. Monroe to see you, sir.” She said, then hung up. “He'll meet you at lift number three.” She told Knox, then returned to her paperwork.

“Come on, Keagan.” Knox called, motioning Mikey to follow him.

Mikey followed him, unaware and naive to what was about to happen to him, to what was waiting for him, as the lift doors slid open and revealed Benji and Ashe. It was seeing Benji and Ashe that Mikey got a strange feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it, figuring it was just nervous jitters from meeting the most powerful man in Bristol.

“Knox.” Benji smiled at his prized Runner, then settled his cold eyes on Mikey. “Mr. Keagan, how nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much.”

“All good, I hope.” Mikey gulped.

“Of course.” Benji chuckled, motioning for the two men to step into the lift with them. “Let's go to my office to speak.” He suggested.

The ride in the lift was silent and stiff, no one speaking or moving, not even making eye contact for the several minutes the ride took, until the ding announced their arrival to the floor and the sleek metal doors slid open. Benji stepped off first, followed by Knox and Mikey, with Ashe bringing up the rear. They walked down a long hallway and Benji stopped beside a door, scanned a key card and pushed it open, motioning for Mikey to go in first, wanting to see his reaction as he entered.

Biting his lip, Mikey did as he was told, a nervous sweat breaking out on his brow as he moved into the dark room, noticing the wall length window to one side. He stopped in front of it, looking through the two way mirror and felt his jaw and heart hit the floor.

“Issy.” He gasped, seeing you pacing the bright room, then noticed the large and beaten male tied to the chair in the room as well.

His shoulders slumped as it all clicked in his head, he had been lied to too and was now as much a prisoner as you and Henry were. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his hands started to shake, gulping several times to try and keep his composure.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, eyes snapping to Benji as he watched Ashe lock and block the door, leaving Knox in the hallway.

“Who is that girl to you?” Benji asked, lightly tapping the glass of the mirror. “And answer truthfully.”

Mikey steeled himself. “I don't know.” He huffed, puffing out his chest.

Benji rolled his jaw and banged on the mirror, grabbing Emilio's attention. Smirking, Emilio pushed himself off the door he had been leaning against and strode over to you, startling you and making you stubble away from him.

“NO!” Henry and Mikey both screamed at the same time as Emilio grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking your head backward and making you cry out as he shoved you closer to the mirror.

“Who is she to you?” Benji asked again, slowly.

“A friend.” Mikey whimpered, clenching his fists together as he felt and saw your pain.

Benji knocked on the window again. This time, Emilio twisted you around by the hair and slammed your back up against the mirror and wrapped his meaty hand around your slender neck. Henry jerked and squirmed in his chair, roaring with madness and cursing loudly as Emilio choked you, trying desperately to break free and pull him off of you, before it was too late.

“Stop!” Henry roared, letting his anger and frustration out in a violent scream. “Let her go! Do it to me!” He begged Emilio. “Let her be!”

Mikey doubled over, his hands braced on his thighs as he gasped for air, like a goldfish out of it's tank. “Please, stop this.” He begged Benji, in a wheeze.

Benji tilted his head as he watched Mikey, watching his distress as it mirrored your own. Curiously, he banged on the mirror again and Emilio, still choking you with one hand, drove the fist of his other into your stomach, making you yelp around his hand, incapable of more as you struggled for air. Mikey stumbled back into a shelf behind him, nearly losing his footing. Benji's fingers caught the underside of Mikey's chin and jerked his head back, thick strings of drool on his lips and chin.

“Tell me who she is to you?” He hissed in his face.

“Please.” Mikey begged him, weakly.

“Tell me, and I'll make him stop.” Benji told him, his face twisted with smug malice.

Mikey whimpered, hearing you struggling and Henry's desperate protests. “She's my sister.” He broke. “My twin sister.” He admitted, weakly.

“Your twin?” Benji echoed, intrigued. “So, you feel what she feels. Does she feel what you do, I wonder.” He let go of Mikey and knocked on the mirror twice, signaling Emilio to release you, which he did, causing you to collapse to the floor. “Ashe, go in there and tell me if she feels anything from him.” He ordered, keeping his eyes on Mikey.

Nodding, Ashe left the room and entered yours and Henry's, nodding at the mirror, so Benji knew he was in position. Smiling, Benji promptly drove his knee into Mikey's stomach and looked behind him and saw Ashe smirking and chuckling to himself.

“The connection between twins.” Benji laughed, amused to all ends. “I love it. Let's have a proper little family reunion, shall we!” He declared and motioned to Luis to grab Mikey. “Bring him.” He ordered, marching out of the room. “Good news everybody!” He declared, bursting into the room with you and Henry.

“It's family time!” He laughed, as Luis shoved Mikey into the room with the two of you.

“Mikey.” You coughed and rasped, holding your bruised neck.

“Issy.” He rasped back, crawling over to you. “Where have you been?” He asked, cupping your face in his shaking hands. “We thought you were dead.”

“I went looking for you, to try and patch things up with our parents, after the fight.” You explained, fresh tears dripping down your face. “But, I was caught by the Traffickers and was held by them. Henry,” You looked up at him, still straining in the chair, his blue eyes wild. “he saved me and I've been with him the whole time.”

Mikey blinked up at Henry, then narrowed his eyes at him. “Saved you?” He echoed your words, but not your sentiments and appreciation. “The only reason a person goes into a Trafficker's warehouse, if they're not merchandise, is to buy.” He hissed, his face darkening. “You bought my sister from a fucking Trafficker. Typical Upper, buying and enslaving us just because we were born in a lower Sector than you.”

“Mikey, it wasn't like that?” You panted, shaking your head at him, desperate for him to understand.

“How can you fucking defend him!” Mikey barked, gritting his teeth at you. “Unless he's already brainwashed you, convinced you that owning you didn't make you any different than him.”

“I don't own her.” Henry growled, low in his throat.

“Is that so!”

“It is!” You barked back, regaining yourself. “He never registered me for an Ownership Bracelet. Henry's never treated me like a Slave, or even a Slummer, for that matter. He's been good to me, Mikey.” You told him, cupping his tense neck in your hands and pressed your forehead to his. “He's been helping me to find you.” You whispered to him, holding his eyes.

“He's been protecting me.” You said quieter.

“I was originally meant to follow her until you were found, then bring you both back to London.” Henry added, his eyes on you. “So, she could testify against him.” He jerked his chin at Benji. “and to turn you in for your part in the Running business. But,” He paused and sighed. “But, I changed my mind and decided to just help her bring you back home, safely. Make up some story about why I didn't bring you in, then once she testified, I was going to release her to go back home to your family.” He explained.

Mikey opened his mouth to ask why a High Marshal would bother to do something like that, when he finally felt it, a warmth that came from you, and met your eyes and saw the cause of your warmth, towards Henry. You were in love with the High Marshal, and looking to Henry, he could tell that Henry felt just as strongly about you.

“I've been a complete brainless prick.” Mikey sighed, feeling guilty, if he hadn't decided to become a Runner, then none of this would have happened, the two of you and Henry would still be safe and sound in London, going about your lives as should be.

“I'm sorry, Issy.”

“Well, you're just a stupid boy, what do you know anyway.” You huffed, smiling softly and shrugging it off.

“Well, isn't this all well and sweet.” Benji huffed pushing off the wall.

“But, we all have an issue. The three of you are a threat to my business.” He said, folding his arms. “You, High Marshal, are on the case that threatens my business. You,” He looked at Mikey. “Being a Runner, know the routes and procedures of my business, and you,” He settled his eyes on you. “Are the witness to my operations and hold the key to ruining my business in London and putting away one of my best Traffickers.”

“I can't let you live.” He said, looking at the three of you. “So, we're going to play a fun little game.” He smirked, greedy and giddy, as he rubbed his hands together. “Luis, your gun.” He ordered, holding his hand out to the other man. “Ashe draw yours as well, and Emilio, why don't you untie Mr. Cavill over there, we do out number them with people and firearms, so I doubt either of them will be stupid enough to try something.” He said, motioning Emilio towards Henry.

Obeying, Emilio removed the key to Henry's bonds from his front pocket, while Ashe had his gun trained on him, anticipating any attempt Henry, you or Mikey might make to try and be a savior. Emilio unlocked the ties around Henry's chaffed ankles, then his wrists. Henry let out a relieved sigh as the strain and tension of his shoulders and arms released, almost slumping out of the chair.

“Henry!” You gasped, dashing forward to try and catch him.

“Ah, no!” Benji barked, stopping you in your tracks. “Leave him be.” He hissed at you. “Get up, Cavill.” He demanded of Henry. “Now, or I'll start putting holes in her!”

Groaning, Henry forced himself to stand, swaying on his throbbing and injured legs and almost falling, but caught himself on the back of the chair. Assured that Henry would be able to reasonably stand, then took the gun Luis was still holding out to him, Benji removed the clip from the firearm, checking how many rounds it had, reloaded the clip and cocked the slide, securing a bullet into the chamber.

“Take it.” He snapped, holding it out to you.

“No.” You whimpered, shaking your head and taking a step away from him.

“You either take it, or I kill all three of you now, starting with the High Marshal, then your dear brother and you last, so you can watch as your brother and the man you love, die.” He threatened, with an eerie calm.

Taking a shuddering breath, you stepped forward again and, with a shaky hand, took the heavy weapon from Benji's hand. You looked at Henry and Mikey with wide and frightened eyes, visibly shaking with terror. They both looked back at you with the same fright and worry.

“So, this is our game.” Benji grinned, licking his lips, like an evil serpent. “You get to choose who dies first, and get the honor of killing them.” He told you, grinning sinisterly.

“No.” You whimpered, slowly shaking your head. “No, I can't. Please, I can't.” You begged him, trembling, and staring down at the gun, like you expected it to swallow you.

“None of you are going to leave this room alive. So, you might as well put each other out of your own misery.” Benji tried to reason with you. “Do you want them to suffer because of your selfishness?”

“Don't listen to him.” Henry snapped, drawing your attention. “You don't need to do this, just give me the gun.” He told you, reaching out a hand to you.

“He's right, Issy. You don't.” Mikey agreed, holding his own hand out. “Just give it to one of us, we'll figure this out.”

Both Henry and Mikey knew why Benji had given you the gun. You would never have considered hurting anyone, with or without the firearm; unlike Henry and Mikey, who would.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure who to give it to. What would Henry do, if you were to give him the gun? Would he manage to kill Benji, Ashe, Luis and Emilio before they could do any real damage to the three of you? What about Mikey? Did your brother even know how to use a gun? What would he do once he had it? Should you even give it to them? What if one of them turned on the other, what if Henry turned on Mikey? He had originally been sent after you to bring you back to testify and take care of Mikey, because of his involvement with Benji and Bristol. Would Mikey try to kill Henry, because he was a High Marshal, maybe try to save face and show Benji he could be trusted, to save himself, and maybe you too.

You knew neither of them would turn on you or harm you in any way. You weren't afraid of them; you were afraid for them, and what they might do if they had the gun themselves.

It took all you had not to throw up, then and there. Everyone was staring at you waiting for your decision, but you couldn't decide, you wouldn't decide. You loved Henry and you loved your brother, you would rather kill yourself than one of them; and it was as if they sensed your mind go in that direction, for both Henry and Mikey jerked towards you, startling you.

“No!” Henry hissed, his eyes wide with panic. “Don't you dare.” He panted heavily, spots in his eyes as his advanced blood loss started to take its toll on him, on top of everything else going on. “Don't you dare turn that gun on yourself.” He whispered, half begging and half ordering you.

“Listen to him, Issy.” Mikey agreed, nodding his head. “Don't harm yourself. We can figure this out.” He said, eyeballing Benji over your shoulder.

Tears dripped down your face, like a waterfall after a heavy rain, it was too much, it was all too overwhelming for you to take. Mikey looked between you and Henry, he saw the absolute terror and worry in Henry's eyes, his pupils eating away the cobalt blue and speck of brown of his irises. Your own blown out pupils doing the same as you started back at him. It was something that Mikey wasn't used to. When things became scary and too much, it had always been him that you looked to in those moments, but this time, it was Henry you were seeking comfort and protection from.

“You fucking prick!” Mikey growled, trying to lung at Benji.

“Ah ah!” Benji barked back, grabbing Luis's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at you. “If either of you try and act a hero, Luis will kill her, out right.” He warned, meeting Mikey and Henry's eyes.

Biting his lip, Mikey took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, Benji had the three of you cornered. He was forcing you to kill one of the men you loved with your own life, while stopping Henry and Mikey from trying to save the day, by threatening to kill you, knowing they both would die to keep you safe.

What a twisted and poisonous web that was being weaved in the room. But, sooner or later, the strings of that web would start to snap and unravel, taking all of you with it.

Mikey took a hesitating step forward, his heart pounding and choked inside of his throat, his eyes daring between you, Benji and Luis. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling the weight of the gun you held in that hand. The pounding pulse in your wrist drummed against Mikey's fingers, and he felt his own heart become attuned with yours. From the day the two of you came into the world, you several minutes before him, the pair of you were in sync, but as you grew older, you became less so. You had taken the right path, following the law, doing the job assigned to you, making the best of the life you had been dealt, without a complaint. While Mikey rebelled and became restless, wanting to be more, wanting the people he loved to be and have more than you already did, failing to see the wealth he already had, in you, your parents and little brother.

It was too late now to go back and fix those things, to see and cherish them properly, like Mikey now realized he should have.

The two of you synced together, heart beats the same steady, but pounding rate, breathing heavy and as one, flowing in a way that only twins could. You read his face, like it was the page of an open book and knew what he was doing. Your hand grasped the grip of the gun tighter, eyes widening and head softly shaking.

It's all right, Issy. His face and eyes said to you.

No. Your eyes begged back, blinded by collecting tears. Not like this. Don't do this. I can't live without you, Mikey.

You'll be fine, Sis.

He looked away from you, to Henry, who stood there, supporting himself on the back of the chair he had spent hours being tortured in. Henry looked back at Mikey, confused, just like everyone else in the room to what was transpiring between you, narrowing his eyes and frowning, shaking his head at Mikey, wanting to understand. But, Mikey looked back to you, squeezing your wrist and pressing his free hand to your chest.

You have the High Marshal to care for and protect you now. His eyes said to you. And he'll do a better job at it. He can give you the love, life and protection you need and deserve in life.

You shook your head at him, eyes screaming at him. Don't do this! What about our parents? Our little brother? What will I tell them? They will be crushed.

I'm no good and we both know this. Let me do this, and prove I still have some good left in me.

His hand slowly slipped down yours, gently prying your fingers from around the gun's grip, carefully taking it from you. Your hands shot out, gripping Mikey by the sleeves, one last plea for him to reconsider, to help you and Henry find a different plan and outcome, to give it a chance. But, he shook his head and took your arm in his free hand, leaned in to kiss your cheek, then gently shoved you in Henry's direction. Henry just managed to catch you before you stumbled over your feet, and himself from falling as well, blinking between you and Mikey, starting to realize what was going on.

“Mikey, n--” You started to scream as he raised the muzzle to his temple.

Henry's thick arms wrapped around you, somehow mustering the strength to hold you back as you struggled and thrashed in his embrace, trying desperately to stop what was about to happen.

A loud pop and a high pitched ringing filled your ears, muting out all other sounds that were being made, the sounds of your scream that you only knew was happening by how sore it made your throat, the warm spray of droplets against your face and neck, the world ending sight of your brother crumbling to the ground, the gun falling from his limp hand and slid across the blood covered floor, spinning under the chair at Henry's foot.

But, the chaos didn't stop there.

As Mikey hit the floor, Ashe came to life, using the distraction of Mikey's decision, to pull the gun out of his back waistband, smoothly flipping off the safety with his thumb, cocked and pointed it at Luis. All of it was in slow-motion, ears still screaming, as another pop filled the room, this time taking out Luis. Henry's body tensed up against yours as he watched Luis instinctively pull the trigger of his own weapon, the bullet whizzing towards you both. Henry wrapped his arms completely around you and threw you both down onto the floor; caging you in with his heavy and bloody body, using himself as a human shield as more muffled shots rang out.

You felt Henry's body jerk once against yours and the hot breath of him groaning against your neck, then a searing pain in your thigh, before the room went quiet and dark.

You started to come back around to the sound of Henry yelling your name, above the ringing that was still filling your ears and mind. You shook your throbbing head, feeling him pat your cheeks, trying to get you to open your eyes and respond to him.

“Can you hear me?” Henry asked, blinking down at you.

You blinked back up at him, only catching every other word he said. “A little bit.” You wheezed back, your thigh felt like an overfilled, hot water bottle as it throbbed.

“Good.” He nodded, then looked down the length of your body, just then noticing the slow puddle of blood pooling around your leg and cursed. “You've been hit.” He huffed, wrestling with his body's want to panic, but kept calm.

Spotting the tattered remains of his shirt, that Emilio had cut off, Henry grabbed it. “This is going to hurt, but, I need to control the bleeding before you lose too much.” He explained, carefully bringing your leg up, then wrapping the strip of his shirt around your thigh, just above the bullet wound, and tied it off as tightly as he could without causing any more complications.

You winced and whined as he did, gripping his bicep and digging your nails into his skin. “What happened?” You asked, out of breath, you couldn't see most of the room, Henry's body blocking your view, mostly on purpose.

“It seems, we have a friend.” Henry replied looking over his shoulder to Ashe. “We're going to get out of here.” He told you, fussing over your wound as a thin and steady stream of blood continued to flow from it, tightening his shirt more.

“We can't leave without--” You paused, remembering. “Oh god, Henry!” You gasped, it all rushed back to you.

“I know.” He frowned at you, crushed.

“We have to take him with us.”

“We can't.” Henry whispered, licking his cracked lips. “It'll slow us down.” He told you as carefully as he could. “I'll get him back for you. When we get back to London, I promise you.” He said, helping you sit up.

“Henry--” You sobbed, throwing your arms around his neck and buried your face into his sweaty and sticky chest.

“I know, love. I am so so sorry.” He whimpered in your ear, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed.

“We need to go.” Ashe's rushed voice came from the door. “Now, before the alarms go off.” He said, looking back into the hall.

He felt for you, he really did, never expecting all of this to happen, but now that it had, the three of you needed to put as many kilometers and as much time between you and Bristol as you could, because Benji's men would be coming after you in no time.

“Come on.” Henry grunted, pulling himself up to his feet and taking you with him, wrapping your arm around his neck, to support you out of the room.

Your breath caught in your throat as Henry helped you stand up, seeing Mikey's body laying there in a large pool of blood, but also Luis, Emilio and Benji's bodies as well. In the chaos of Mikey taking his own life to save you and Henry, Ashe had sprung, pulling his weapon and dispatching them in the confusion. Luis and Emilio let off several rounds from their own guns, one of them nicking Henry in the side and another going through your thigh.

“Is he on our side?” You wheezed, as you and Henry followed him down the hall.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded, shifting you against his side as you started to slip. “He's a Alpha Marshal, from London.” He explained to your questioning brow lift

“How did you not know that?” You asked him, frowning, you figured since Henry was a High Marshal, he would know all of the other Marshals.

“He finished Marshal training four years before I went in, and was recruited straight out of it to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and climb the ladder as far as he could. Seems he got as high as being Benji Hernandez's personal enforcer.” He explained, stopping as Ashe secured the hallway around the corner.

“Which is damn lucky for the two of you.” Ashe commented, coming back. “The way is clear, there's a back service lift that goes down to the garage. I have a car there we can use to get the fuck out of Bristol.”

“Let's go.” Henry nodded, antsy.

You looked back down the hall, to the still open door to the room that held all that carnage, and shuttered. Henry looked at you, feeling the shiver and frowned, reaching up to brush your hair out of your sweaty and bloody face. He couldn't understand the level of pain and anguish you must be in, after watching your brother commit suicide to save you. But, he knew that Mikey would want him to protect you and get you the hell out of there, with or without his body, and that's what Henry planned on doing.

“You can do this.” He whispered to you, blood crusted fingertips brushing your cheek. “He would want you too.” He added even softer.

“I know.” You gulped down tears, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. ��Let's go, before I lose my nerve.” You said, looking away from the door.

Nodding his head, you and Henry supported each other down the hall to the lift, leaning against the wall as it went down to the dark underground garage. Finding Ashe's car, he unlocked it and helped you and Henry get inside, before rushing around to the driver's side, tearing out of the garage and onto the street.

“Here.” You sighed and removed your torn and filthy jacket, revealing Henry's shirt beneath it, and took it off, seeing Henry's shiver.

“Thanks.” Henry whimpered, carefully pulling the shirt on his sore and battered torso. “How are we getting out of here, Ashe?”

“There's a gate out of this Sector that most of Benji's top men use for dealing with business outside of Bristol. I know the guard that works it, he'll let us through and keep his mouth shut.” Ashe explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “From there, I'll drop you both off at the drop location I use for sending my information into London.”

“What Sector is that in?” Henry asked, checking your makeshift tourniquet.

“Three.” Ashe replied, slowing his car down as they approached the gate he spoke about. “Let me do the talking.” He said over his shoulder, rolling his window down as a stocky male with a semi-automatic weapon approached the driver's side.

“James, it's been awhile. How have you been?” He asked, staring through the open driver's window.

“Been all right.” Ashe replied casually, as if nothing was amiss, like the two bleeding people in his backseat. “I need to run an errand outside the city, if you don't mind opening the gate and letting me through.”

“Sure thing.” the guard replied, chipper and oblivious to you and Henry, unable to see through the black tinted windows.

Stepping away from Ashe's car, the guard moved into a small booth beside the gate, turning a key and held down a large red button. The large and scuffed up gate groaned to life, screeching and protesting as it slid out of the way, revealing barren land and an uneven road on the other side. Waving back as the guard waved Ashe through the gate, he drove through, letting out a relieved breath as the gate closed behind you, everything so far going smooth.

“It's a two and half hour drive to your drop off location.” Ashe said, breaking the silence.

“That's fine.” Henry replied. “It took us nearly a week to walk here.” He added with a huff, that felt like a year ago at this point.

“What about you?” You asked Ashe. “What will you do now? Will you not come into London with us?” You inquired, interested, since his life and the long years he spent undercover in Bristol was now blown apart because of you, Henry and Mikey.

“I'm not originally from London.” Ashe replied, stiffly. “I'm from Chester. My father was killed in an accident and my mother couldn't take care of me. So, she had a smuggler bring me to London where I have a wealthy aunt. She took me in, adopted me and raised me as her own son, enabling me to have a better life. With her connections, I was able to attend the Marshal Council Academy, graduated top of my class and was recruited directly out of training to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and the Hernandez family. I've been there ever since, running and doing whatever job Benji and his family tell me too, while sending the information back to London and half of the money I make back to my mum in Chester.”

“I've wanted to return to Chester for a long time, I haven't seen my mother, in person, since I was eight. So, I plan to go back there, after I drop the two of you off.”

“Won't they go looking for you there?” You asked, concerned for him, you had dragged so many people into this mess.

“No, as far as they know, all my family is dead.” He answered, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. “My backstory was I was orphaned as a baby and raised on the streets of London, where I got in with Runners and came to Bristol to be more big time. So, I don't know who my parents are, let alone, know if I have any other family or where.”

“And they believed that?”

“For more than a decade.” Ashe chuckled, smiling at you.

The rest of the drive was quiet, you and Henry huddled together in the backseat, Henry's heavy head resting on your shoulder. His eyes were closed, but he didn't find any sleep, still too worked up to find it with the state you both were in. You rested your cheek on the top of his head and closed your own eyes, your head still throbbed and your leg was on fire, but had stopped bleeding so much. Both of you were worn, spent and weak, desperately needing proper medical attention and rest after everything that had happened.

“Henry?” You whispered softly into his messy curls.

“Hm?” He hummed back.

“What are we going to say, when we get back to London?” You asked him, biting your lip.

Henry sighed, picking up his head as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your temple. That had been brewing in his mind for the last hour, trying to figure out how to explain all your injuries and absence to everyone that asked. The only person that truly knew the nature of your and Henry's disappearance was Reyes, and he didn't know what Reyes would do when the pair of you showed back up in London in the sorry state you were in, and without Mikey.

“We'll cross that road, when we get there, love.” He finally replied, kissing your temple again.

You crossed that road an hour and a half later, when Ashe pulled up to a door that had been built into the wall of Sector Three. He helped you and Henry out of the car and approached the door with you, pointing out an intercom box beside the door.

“The code is 8391, it'll ring whoever is working the door today, they'll come down and ask for credentials, tell them you're a High Marshal and you'll get all the assistance you need.” He explained to you, heading back towards his car.

“Ashe!” Henry called after him, before he could get into the car and leave. “Thank you.” He said, when Ashe turned back.

“We're Marshals, we're trained to look out for each other.” Ashe replied, nodding his head to you both and got into his car.

Henry waited until Ashe's car disappeared from sight, before limping up to the door and pressed in the code Ashe had given you. A buzzer went off and five minutes later, the door opened, revealing a Beta Marshal, who frowned between you and Henry.

“High Marshal Henry Cavill.” Henry told him, as the Beta Marshal started to open his mouth. “We require aid and you need to get a call into Supreme Commander, Dylan Reyes.” He said, grabbing your hand and pushing through the door.

“Now, Beta Marshal, before we finish bleeding to death.” Henry hissed at him, annoyed and impatient.

“Of course, sir.” the Beta Marshal squeaked, saluting Henry and showing you both to his service car. “Supreme Commander Reyes, this is Beta Marshal Grant, down at the Security Door. I have a High Marshal here, wishing to speak with you.” the Beta Marshal explained, as his call to Dylan connected over the car's speakers.

“Who would that be, Grant?” Dylan's voice asked back.

“It's me, Dylan.” Henry huffed, slumping in the seat.

“Henry!” Reyes's voice snapped in surprise. “You're alive!”

“For the time being.” Henry sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Do you have the girl and her brother?” He asked, sounding desperate and frantic.

“I have her, but not her brother.” Henry explained, glancing at you. “It's a very long story. But, right now, we both need medical attention. She's been shot in the leg and bleeding heavily and I've spent the last thirteen hours being tortured.” He revealed to his boss.

“Grant, get them both to the Marshal Council Hospital right this second and make sure they don't spare any medical intervention and assistance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Supreme Commander.” Grant replied, with a hard nod of his head as he started his car and directed it towards the Marshal Council Hospital, in Sector One.

“I'll be there promptly.” Reyes replied, clearly rushing out of his office for the parking garage.

So much of the tension went out of you and Henry, you were finally back in the protective and safe walls of London, no more worry about people trying to find and kill you, no more filthy and bare essential hotel rooms and days of endless walking. You were home and free, and with Henry. Now, you both just needed to get looked over and have your injuries treated, then you could go back to the comfort of your own flat.

You and Henry were rushed into the hospital, dozens of doctors and nurses swarming you both, poking this and pulling on that, asking a barrage of questions too fast for either of you to answer properly. The leg of your leggings was cut all the way to your hip as they removed Henry's ripped and blood soaked shirt to examine your gunshot wound. You screamed in pain as they pushed around it, and apologized profusely for it, and became more gentle about touching it.

“Good news is, it went through, relatively clean.” The doctor explained to you, standing beside your bed.

“The bad?” You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried preparing for it.

“The bullet nicked your great saphenous vein, it's the longest vein in the human body, running the entire length of the leg; which is what's causing a lot of your bleeding. ”

“Am..” You gulped down a hot lump of vomit trying to surge up your throat. “Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, frightened beyond belief and wished Henry was in the same room as you, but they had separated the two of you after coming in with Beta Marshal Grant.

“No.” The doctor chuckled at you, shaking his head. “We have a procedure that will stop the bleeding and help the wound heal in no time. But, I must warn you, it is rather painful.”

“As long as I don't lose my leg, I don't care.” You told him.

You had already lost too much.

“Excellent, I'll have the nurse bring in the instruments and we'll get down to treating you.” He smiled at you, sweetly, trying to be supportive and calming. “Do you have any questions, before we get started?”

“Yes, how's Henry—the High Marshal.” You asked, correcting yourself.

“High Marshal Cavill has lost a good amount of blood.” He told you, his brow creasing with his concern. “We gave him a blood transfusion and an army load of fluids, while we treated his wounds. He has broken and cracked ribs and sternum, a broken nose, a severe concussion and very deep cuts on various parts of his body.” He explained to you, as gently as he could.

“But, he will make a full recovery. He's a tough young man, and has the best medical care London has.”

“Good.” You sigh, relieved.

The doctor smiled at you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder before leaving the room to prepare your treatment. A nurse came in a moment later, pushing a cloth covered cart, then put an IV port into your arm and hung up a bag of fluids, antibiotics and blood; since you had lost so much blood from your bullet wound. You hissed as she gingerly rotated your leg and slipped a triangular shaped pillow under your bent knee, an oval notch cut in the top of it for your knee to rest comfortable and securely, while they treated you.

She removed the cloth from the metal cart she brought in with her, and you saw what looked like a short caulking gun, a tube with a fat nozzle and two packaged patches. Picking up one of the patches, she ripped it open and dipped it in a small bowl of solution, the patch absorbed some of the liquid solution and became almost rubbery and gel-like. She moved around to your stabilized leg and gently pressed the ice cold patch to the bruised and puckered hole on the inside of your thigh, where the bullet exited, more than halfway up. You hissed as the cold gel patch touched the heated and angry skin of your thigh, whatever the solution she dipped it in stung and burned like liquid fire as it covered your wound, adhering to your skin with a firm hold.

“This will keep your wound protected, clean and sterile. It has antibodies that will recognize any infections or foreign matter and attack it, preventing your wound from going bad.” She explained to you, pressing her palm to it and held it there with firm pressure.

“And that?” You asked as she let go of the patch and picked up the caulking gun-like device and slotted the tub into it.

“This is Nanite Gel. It has antibodies in it, as well as stem cells and biological Nantes, that will start working to repair the severed muscle, skin, tendons, nerve endings and tissue inside your leg; closing the wound right up.” She replied. “The doctor will insert the nozzle into your wound and slowly draw it out, while filling it with the Gel. The patch also works as a barrier, since the projectile went through one side and out the other, preventing the Nanite Gel from squirting and leaking out.” She described to you.

“Fantastic.” You replied, with a nervous sarcasm.

You gulped with anticipation as the doctor came back in, with an additional nurse, and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He smiled at you, took his position beside your leg, and took the injector from the first nurse. The second nurse grabbed your ankle and the top of your knee, pinning your leg down as the doctor lined up the tip of the nozzle with your uncovered and slightly bloody wound.

“Deep breath.” The doctor instructed you, taking a deep breath with you. “Ready?” He asked as the first nurse carefully dabbed at the blood with a wad of gauze at the end of a clamp, keeping your wound clean, so the doctor had an easy time guiding the nozzle in, which was easily bigger than your actual wound.

“More than I ever will be.” You replied, bracing yourself.

Nodding his head, the doctor pressed the nozzle to the opening of your wound and started to push it inside. You tensed and jerked, screaming again, but the second nurse had an iron grip on your leg, keeping it still as the doctor continued to push inside. You had strobing spots in your eyes and your jaw was so tight it felt like your teeth were going to shatter at any second. The doctor barked at the first nurse to give you twelve micrograms of Fentanyl for your pain, and she scurried out of your room and came running back a minute later with a IV syringe full of the opioid, pushing it directly into the tube of your IV. Within a couple of seconds, the painkiller washed over your whole body, like a hot comforter out of the dryer, and allowed you to relax, going slack on the bed.

“Good.” The doctor nodded, seeing and feeling you relax and finished pushing the nozzle the rest of the way in.

Shifting his hand, the doctor pressed down on the trigger of the injector and slowly drew it out again, filling the tunnel the bullet made with the blue-ish gel. You didn't feel the pain of it, but you felt the pressure in your leg. Your eyes were heavy, glazed over and half lidded, you felt absolutely nothing and you were so sluggish from the opioid that you couldn't even form words to think, it felt nice after all the trauma and hardship you had gone through in the last week.

So, you let it take you, pulling you under the crashing waves of exhaustion, pain and the high of the painkiller, your body going totally limp. It alarmed the doctor and nurses for a moment, fearing you had blacked out. But, once they checked you out and determined you had simply fallen asleep, they relaxed and finished tending to your wound, filling it with the gel, then covering it with another patch, like the other one, and lightly wrapped it with a bandage.

They left you to rest, closing the blinds over the window and turned down the lights, before softly closing the door behind them.

“How is she?” Henry asked Reyes as he came into Henry's room; he had heard your screams of pain from his room, across the hall.

“She's doing fine.” Reyes assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “They treated her gunshot wound with Nanite Gel, gave her some strong pain medication and she's asleep now.”

“Good.” Henry nodded, relieved, but still wanted to see you, to be by your side.

“So, what the hell happened?” Reyes asked, pulling up a chair next Henry's bedside.

Henry started to heave a sigh, but stopped, clutching his rib-cage with an arm as his ribs screamed. “I chased after her, like I said I would. It took me nearly three days to finally catch up to her. She's crafty, in a good way. She'd make a great Marshal.” He chuckled, carefully. “I was going to bring her straight back to London to testify. But, she was dead set on finding her brother, so I went with her, figuring I'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“Get her back to London to testify and have her brother prosecuted.” Reyes nodded, understanding.

“Well, when we got there, we had no clue on how to find him.” Henry continued on, staring out his room window. “I recalled that a Beta Marshal that had been banished to Bristol for dealings with Runners and Crime Bosses. Ramsey Kellan. We found him in Sector Fifteen and he gave us the information we needed.” He rubbed the side of his face, he really wished he could just take a nap, but continued to fill Reyes in.

“Somewhere along that time frame, we were outed as being in Bristol, and looking for her brother.”

“Over a decade as an undercover, and your first blown cover happens with the girl.” Reyes laughed, greatly amused.

“Yeah.” Henry frowned, not finding it funny, if his cover with you hadn't been blown, so much of this wouldn't have happened. “As I said, our cover got blown in a pub in Sector Three of Bristol. Benji Hernandez sent his best guy to track us down there. I was able to get us out of the pub and down an alleyway, where I boosted her over a wall, to keep her safe, and faced the guy. We fought, he tazed the fuck out of me, and the next thing I knew, I'm waking up in a bright room, cuffed hand and foot to a chair.”

“They tried beating and reasoning me into telling where she was, but I refused.”

“Where was she, when this was going on?”

“The hotel room we got before going to the pub.” Henry replied with a sigh.

“But, she was clearly found.” Reyes pointed out. “How?”

“I told her I would return in an hour. When I hadn't returned by morning, she got worried and decided to try and find me. Which ended up with Benji's men, who had been keeping an eye out for her, capturing her and bringing her in.”

“And the brother?” Reyes pushed, leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs.

“They saw each other as she was being thrown in a van to be taken to Benji. His handler, Knox Monroe, had found out that they were siblings and outed him, and he ended up in the room with us.” Henry replied, gingerly shifting to find a more comfortable position.

“So, where is Keagan?”

“Dead.” Henry replied, bluntly. “Benji gave her a gun and forced her to decide which one of us would die first.”

“She killed her own brother?” Reyes asked, stunned and gobsmacked.

“No.” Henry shook his head, the image still burned in his mind. “She couldn't do it. She wouldn't choose either of us, she almost turned it on herself. Before, Michail managed to take the gun from her.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the image out his mind, the sound of your screams as you were forced to watch.

“He took his own life, so she didn't have to choose.”

“And Hernandez allowed the pair of you to leave afterwards?”

“No, I'm sure he would have forced either her or I to kill the other, then kill the last one himself.” Henry answered, opening his eyes again.

“Then, how did the two of you make it out?” Reyes asked, tilting his head at Henry.

Henry looked at Reyes. “Do you know Alpha Marshal Ashe James?” He asked, his eyes scrutinizing his boss.

“I do.” Reyes nodded back, his brows drawing together. “My predecessor, Eric Banner, told me, when I took over his position, when he retired, that he had a man on the inside of Bristol and to expect his reports regularly.”

“He was the one that saved our asses.” Henry explained with a sigh. “He was the one that stunned me in the alleyway. When Mikey killed himself, Ashe took the opportunity to pull his weapon and dispatched Benji and his men.”

Reyes blinked at Henry. “Are you telling me that Hernandez is dead?”

“I am. Unless, there's some way Nanite Gel can repair a hole in the brain.” He replied, with slight sarcasm. “Which I know there's not. So, he's now out of the way.”

“This is great.” Reyes grinned at Henry. “That'll be a massive blow to the Hernandez family, their operations and Bristol. Especially, when she's healthy enough to testify against Twist and his trafficking business.”

“It will be.” Henry agreed, but the only thing he was concerned with was the two of you getting well again. “I'm guessing, they'll be postponing the trial for a few weeks.”

“I still have to call the Cleric and Royal Councils and report everything that's gone down. But, I'm sure they'll delay the trial, for at least, a month.”

“Good, I want to take care of her first.” Henry added, nodding and relieved.

Reyes frowned at Henry and leaned back in his chair. “What is it between the two of you?” He asked, he had the suspicious feeling in his gut about the two of you for a while, but had only just had the time and place to ask.

Henry's cheeks warmed slightly and glanced away from Reyes, making his boss laugh out loud, seeing it in Henry's body language.

“You're in love with her.” He blurted out, tickled at the notion. “The great Upper, Henry Cavill, is in love with a Slummer, that's meant to be his Servant and Slave.”

“She's not my Slave! And, don't fucking call her a Slummer, either.” Henry roared, huffing angrily through his nose, like a bull about to charge. “I never registered her, and I never will register her, either.”

“Oh, I know you never registered her for an Ownership Bracelet, Henry.” Dylan continued to chuckle at his friend. “I checked and I got a copy of the paperwork you both filled out for her Life Pin.”

“And, you didn't say anything?” Henry asked, surprised.

“Not my business what you do with your private life, Hank.” He replied with a sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, you pressed me into buying her.” He hissed back, eyes wide.

“I did.” Reyes nodded, pressing his lips together. “We needed the paperwork, a trail to link Twist to trafficking, and to Benji. What you did, or didn't, do with her outside of that, was purely on you, and her.” He confessed, running a hand through his short black hair.

“I was also hoping you'd find a lover or mate.” He added, clearing his throat.

“You were what?” Henry barked, taken aback.

“I should let you rest.” Dylan sighed, getting up, then carefully rested his hand on Henry's shoulder. “It's good to have you back, and alive. You did good, taking care of her and everything else. Take all the time you need to recover, the Council will be here, when you're ready to get back into it.”

“Thanks, Dylan.” Henry replied, giving him a respectful nod of his head, still brewing on what he said.

“Do you want me to call your family?” Reyes asked as he stopped at Henry's door.

“No, I'll call them, when I'm ready.” He shook his head, feeling that new wave of stress hit him. “Last time you called them about me being in the hospital, I almost died, and ended up needing a kidney replacement.”

“Fair enough.” Reyes laughed, and saw himself out.

A day later, Henry slowly limped into your hospital room, across the hall from his, and found you sitting up in bed, eyes glued to the tv and eating a jell-o cup. Your eyes shot over to Henry as he came in, setting your cup down and turned off the tv, relieved to finally see him. The two of you had only been given random updates on each other through your shared nurse, who also, gratefully, passed messages between you as well.

“Henry, should you be out of bed?” You asked as he stopped at your bedside.

“Well, I wasn't the one shot in the leg.” He chuckled and grinned at you, before leaning in to kiss you. “I just had to see you for myself.” He confessed, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

You took a deep breath, tilting your head into his hand. “Like I got shot in the leg.” You chuckled back at him.

“Other than that, Nugget.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I feel fine. Sore, but fine.” You assured him with a nod. “How about you, Puppy?” You asked, looking him over in his hospital gown, a warm and playful smile spreading across your lips.

“Same. Sore and ready to go home.” He smiled back, his stomach full of butterflies.

“I'm ready to go home too.” You concurred with him, sighing at the thought.

The butterflies in Henry's stomach wilted and died, a nauseous, heart-shaped lump forming in his tight throat, hearing you wanted to go home. His shoulders dropped, trying to get a hold on his heartbreak, before you saw it and had your mood ruined.

“You know what I've missed about it?” You asked, looking up at him, just as he managed to hide his disappointment.

“What?” He replied, pained.

“Kal.” You chuckled at him, oblivious, until you saw his shocked face. “What? You think I would miss you, when we've been together practically the whole time?” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“No.” Henry squeaked, confused and relieved at the same time. “I just thought..” He paused, looking away from you.

“You just what, Hen?” You frowned at him, seeing his face and became worried. “Henry, sit down.” You ordered him, becoming concerned for him as you put down the arm rail, so he could sit on the edge of the bed with you.

“Tell me.” You whispered, gingerly wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I thought you were talking about going back to your family's home.” He whispered, faintly. “When you said you were ready to go back home, and that you missed them.”

“Well, I do miss them, Henry.” You told him, pressing your cheek to his bruised and nicked shoulder. “I would love to see them again. But, I wanna stay with you.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Unless, you don't want me too?”

“I do want you too.” He replied, quickly. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want you to come home and stay with me.” He confessed to you, nosing the hair at the top of your head. “And, Kal.” He added, softly.

“Your place has become more of a home to me, than my parents' place has ever been.” You told him, honestly.

You had grown a lot in the time you shared with Henry, and a lot had also changed you. You didn't get kidnapped in your own city, imprisoned in a pitch black and freezing cold cell, either not fed or fed food crawling with unmentionables, cut off from most contact with people, other than the traffickers that had put you there, when they dragged you out for another line up for another snobbish, stuck up and entitled Upper, or to beat you into submission, without something changing you.

You still had nightmares about being in that cell.

You also changed from all the things Henry exposed you too. New foods, tv shows and the luxury of being in the upper Sectors of London, like taking you to that Royal Dinner party with his family. Henry had taken the mostly naive and sheltered Slummer and opened the world up to you. You would always appreciate and love him for that, and for taking care of you and protecting you through the long months after saving you from Twist.

Henry and Kal had become your new home, and the three of you had made a new family.

“I love you, Henry Cavill, and nothing will ever stop or prevent that.” You told him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“So, you'll come back home with me?” He asked, looking down at you, hopeful.

“I don't want to be anywhere else.” You replied, smiling back at him.

Henry's face broke out into a smile and cupped your face in his hands. “Neither do I.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours and kissed you.

“Henry!” A frantic voice came from across the hall.

“Mum!” Henry called back, breaking away from you. “Mum, over here.” He yelled out, limping to your room door as his mother rushed out of his empty room.

“Oh, thank god, Henry!” She cried, rushing him and throwing her arms around him.

“Easy, Mum.” He winced, but hugged her back. “How did you know I was here?” He asked, he hadn't gotten around to calling her and his family yet.

“A report came across my desk about you being injured in the line of duty with a Slummer, and that you were still recuperating here in the hospital. I was afraid it was serious, when you hadn't called me to tell me you were all right.” Marianne explained, shaking her head at her son. “What were you doing with some Slummer that caused you to get so hurt?” She demanded, upset.

“I hope they get the punishment they deserve for getting you into such danger.”

“Mum.” Henry snapped eyes wide and looked back at you.

Marianne blinked and looked into your room, seeing your sheepish and hurt expression, then looked up at Henry. “She's a Slummer?” She asked him, surprised, as she recognized you.

Henry took a deep breath, biting his lip. “We need to talk.” He said, stepping aside, so Marianne could enter your room and followed her, closing the door behind him.

“What's going on?” She asked, taking a seat as Henry sat back down on the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his.

“Several months ago, I was undercover in Sector Thirty-One. I was tasked with infiltrating a trafficking warehouse run by one of Benji Hernandez's men. I did so, with my usual skill and process, but after finally getting an appointment with the guy and seeing the people that had been imprisoned there, Dylan told me I had to—make a purchase—to nail the traffickers and for them to get properly arrested and prosecuted by the Councils.” He explained to her.

“One of the people they had kidnapped and had for sale, was her.” He said and looked at you, giving you a soft and loving smile. “So, I purchased her, and was meant to take care of her, until the trial happened and she testified.”

“So, you bought a Slum-”

“Don't call her that.” Henry hissed, angrily, but recalled himself. “Don't call her that.” He repeated, calmer.

Marianne took a deep breath, glaring at her son. “So, you bought her, in a sting operation, took her home and acted like none of this happened, taking her to events and other functions.” She summed up, studying the two of you. “When she is, technically, your Slave.”

“Yes. But, I don't and didn't want her as a Slave. That's why I never registered her for a Bracelet.” Henry replied, licking his lips.

“So, how did the two of you end up in Bristol, of all places?” She asked, looking between you.

“I ran away, to find my brother, who got himself into a situation, as a Runner, in Bristol.” You answered, before Henry could. “I wanted to go there to try and convince him to come back home. I didn't expect Henry to come after me, when he found out where I went.”

“But,” Henry sighed and bit his lip. “I did. I was worried about her safety, and Dylan asked me, unofficially, to bring her and her brother back here. So, she could testify at the trial and her brother could face justice for his hand in the whole thing.”

Marianne looked at you, her expression stern. “And where is your criminal brother?” She asked, stiffly.

You gulped and licked your lips, staring at your covered legs and picked at the fuzz on your blanket. “He's dead.” You whispered, choking up and tears filling your eyes. “He gave his life, so Henry and I could live and get away from Benji and his men.” You blubbered, crushed.

“Sshh.” Henry hushed you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you against him.

Marianne blinked between the two of you, taken aback.

“They tried torturing her location out of me, that's why I'm so injured. They wanted to kill her to stop the trial against Twist and their operations. I refused, for obvious reasons. She tried to save me, but got caught. When they realized her twin brother was her sibling, they brought him in as well. He died for us, and she got shot in the leg during the escape. Another undercover Marshal helped us get away and back here, to London.” Henry finished explaining to his mother.

“That's what happened.” He sighed, his eyes still on you.

“You're in love.” Marianne blurted out, seeing it as plain as day now.

“Yes.” Henry nodded, looking up at her. “I don't care that she was born in the lower Sectors, mum. I love her, with my heart and soul, and she loves me.”

“I do.” You replied, gulping down your tears and clinging onto him.

Marianne sighed and pressed her lips together, she had waited, a long time, for Henry to finally find someone to fall in love with and share his life. He was the last of the five Cavill boys to find love, settle down and start a family. If she was honest, she didn't care about what social standing the girl he fell in love with was, as long as he was happy, and by the looks of it, you and Henry were more than happy and in love with each other.

“All right.” She whispered softly, nodding her head. “I approve.”

Henry lifted his head and blinked at his mother. “Really?” He asked, shocked to hear it. “You don't care that she's from the lower Sectors?”

“Honestly, Henry? No.” She replied, sighing and shaking her head. “Love is love, and nothing is stronger than true love, not even differing social status.” She told him, honestly. “But, you both know that if, and when, people find out about it, there will be issues. They'll gossip and make comments, some might even turn away from you, shunning you for being with a Sl—someone of a lower standing.” She said, looking between the two of you with an authority of a Royal.

“Do you think you both, and your love, can survive that?”

You and Henry looked at each other, a silent conversation happening between you, before Henry looked back to his mother. “Yes.” He answered, firmly.

The two of you had gone through a lot worse than people talking behind your backs and shunning you.

“All right then.” Marianne replied, standing up. “Then, you have my, and no doubt the rest of the family's, approval, respect and support in the choice of your relationship.” She approached the bed, hugging Henry and kissing his cheek, then turned towards you.

You gulped at her, like a mouse getting stared down by a hungry cat, before she leaned in and hugged you as well; you were surprised by her move, but gave her a hug back. Breaking the hug, Marianne left the room, leaving you alone with Henry again.

“That went incredibly better than I thought it would.” Henry commented, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“You can say that again.” You agreed with him, staring at the open door of your room. “What do we do now, Henry?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Now, Nugget.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “We get you well enough to go home.” He said, squeezing you against him.

Four days later, with the help of some crutches, you left the hospital with Henry, going back to his flat in Sector Two. Kal was over the moon to see you guys again, Charlie having dropped him off at the flat that morning. Henry had body block the Akita to keep him from knocking you over and harming you, until you were able to sit down on the couch and he was allowed to greet you; pressing himself against you and licking at your face.

“Yes, yes!” You laughed, hugging his thick neck, trying to calm him down. “We missed you too, Bear. We missed you just as much.” You told him, kissing his face back and giving him scratches.

After getting settled back in, Henry carefully picked you up, making you laugh as he did.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you through the flat.

“We are both absolutely filthy and need a proper shower.” He told you, going into the bathroom and setting you down on the sink counter. “Lucy!” He called out, looking up.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill?” His flat's AI replied.

“Start the shower on preset two, please.” He said, pulling off the clothing his mother had brought him, before you both left the hospital.

“Right away, sir.” Lucy replied, and the shower came to life.

“Here, let me help.” He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Thanks.” You smiled, then eased off the counter, balancing on your good leg and grasping Henry's forearm.

Marianne had even been kind enough to bring you clothes as well. So, Henry's hands dropped to the ties of your loose sweatpants and untied the knot, pushing them down your hips to pool around your bare feet. You half limped and half hopped under the spray of the hot shower head, making you moan and groan as it cascaded over your battered and sore body. Henry chuckled and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your wet hair.

“I love you, so very much.” He whispered to you. “I'm glad you came back with me.” He added, even softer.

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his hips. “I love you too, Henry, and I don't want to be anywhere that you're not.”

“Neither do I.” He replied, kissing you gently on the lips.

Dried blood, dirt and grim swirled around the shower drain as you and Henry helped clean each other off. You scrubbed his skin with an exfoliating sponge, careful of his cuts and stitches, as he washed your hair, then switched, Henry washing you as you washed his hair.

“There's almost no better feeling than that shower clean feel.” You said, limping into Henry's bedroom and snagged one of his shirts out of his closet, slipping it over your head. “It's such a euphoric feeling.”

“What feels better than that?” Henry asked, coming in after you and pulling on a loose pair of pajama bottoms.

You smirked up at Henry, impishly. “I think you know.” You chuckled at him.

Henry laughed, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, tenderly, but passionately on the lips. “I agree with that.” He said against your lips. “But, you know what else feels euphoric?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Tell me?” You giggled at him.

“A nap in that bed.” He said, pointing to his bed.

“Oh yes.” You agreed, biting your lip and staring at it. “The clean and divine smelling sheets, the warm and cloud-like mattress and pillows.”

“It's an orgasm in itself.” Henry cooed, staring at his bed with a wanting lust.

“I vote we sleep in it for the next year.” You said, looking up at him.

“I vote, the next decade.” He added, looking down at you.

“Deal.”

Henry scoped you up, carrying you to bed, and laid down with you. Cocooned under the soft and clean sheets, both of you moaned, as you melted into the mattress, like warm butter. You snuggled together, wrapped in each other's arms, and almost sound asleep the moment everything settled in around you. 

“Lucy, go to night mode.” Henry mumbled, his body feeling like a ton of rocks, he was so tired.

“Yes, sir.” Lucy whispered back.

Everything went dark, heavy drapes closed over the windows, the lights went out, the doors locked and the air purifier went on, with the soothing sound of ocean waves filling the bedroom, and you and Henry were out cold within minutes.

You slept the rest of the day and well into the next, only getting up because your stomachs were growling for food and your bladders were screaming for release, then you both crawled back into bed and slept even longer. Henry was the first one to officially wake up from your long and deserved hibernation, he laid in bed with you, stroking your hair and the nap of your neck. He traced your face, placing delicate kisses to your eyes, between your brows, the tip of your nose, both cheeks and finally, softly, to your lips.

“Henry.” You whispered, a smile tugging on your lips, before your eyes fluttered open and met his sparkling blues.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked, the tip of his finger ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Warm, content and happy.” You answered, snuggling in closer to him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “You?”

“The same.” Henry replied, nuzzling your hair. “We should go see your parents.” He said suddenly, biting the inside corner of his lip. “They deserve to know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead to his chest. You had been trying to avoid this, avoiding telling your parents that you had been kidnapped and sold by traffickers, to the man you were now madly in love with, and that their son was dead, having killed himself in the pursuit of saving you and Henry from the same outcome.

How do you tell them that? You asked yourself.

“I don't know how.” You mewled, squeezing his thick bicep, like it was a lifeline.

Henry frowned into your hair, stroking the small of your back. “With honesty.” He whispered back, his heart hurting for you.

You stood in front of the door to your family's flat and it felt alien, you didn't feel the familiar nostalgia of coming home, of seeing your family after a grueling and mindless fifteen hour shift at the supermarket. It felt like you were there for the very first time, as if you had never been there before and didn't belong. You could hear the noise inside the flat, your brother running around the place, playing with his toys.

Henry rested his hand on the small of your back and gave you an encouraging smile. Biting your lip, you mustered the courage to knock on the door, it didn't feel right to enter the pin and walk in. You fidgeted as you waited for the door to be open, absentmindedly rubbing your thigh as it throbbed with even the slightest bit of your weight on it.

Finally the door ripped open and Christophe looked at Henry first, his eyes growing with shock, then looked to you, where his face lit up with surprise.

“Issy!” He shouted, and launched at you.

“Fuck.” You snapped, catching him in your arms as Henry caught you in his, keeping you both from tumbling to the floor. “Easy, Christophe. I don't need any more injuries.” You tried to scold him, but only ended up laughing at him as he hung from his arms around your neck, feet dangling.

“Where have you been, Issy!” He demanded, letting go of you and looking between you and Henry. “Who's this?”

“Is mum and dad home, Chris?” You asked, smiling down at him, nervously ruffling his hair.

“Yeah!” Christophe nodded and rushed back into the flat. “Mummy! Dad! Issy's back!” He screamed running around the house.

You looked to Henry and took a deep breath, shoulders rising, rolled your eyes, and stepped into the flat. Henry followed behind you, as your parents rushed into the living room, hot on each other's heels.

“Oh my god!” Your mother gasped and scrambled to you.

“Easy.” You warned her, unable to take a second person jumping you, and motioned to your leg as she lifted a brow at you.

“What's happened to you?” Your father asked, blinking at your wrapped thigh.

“I was shot.” You sighed, figuring it was best to be open and honest, and not sugar coat too many things.

“What?” They both roared, horrified.

“You might want to sit down.” You said, motioning towards the sofas.

Looking at each other, your parents shooed Christophe back to his room and sat down on one couch while you and Henry sat on the love-seat, across from them. There was a long, and awkward, silence, before any of your spoke.

“I'm sorry, I've been gone for so long.” You started, squeezing Henry's hand for support and comfort. “There's been a lot going on, and I didn't, we didn't want to risk your, or Christophe's, safety.” You tried to explain the best you could.

“What are you talking about?” Your father frowned, shaking his head at you and Henry.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, you came out with it. “After I went looking for Mikey, that day, I was tricked and taken by a group of Traffickers in Sector Thirty-One. I spent several months in their warehouse, I don't want to go into details, I think that's best.”

“Of course.” Your mother nodded, clutching your father's hand.

“Henry here, is a High Marshal with the Marshal Council.” You introduced him. “He was undercover, trying to get information on the people running the trafficking warehouse, when he—uh—“ You gulped hard.

“He purchased me from them.”

“You what?” Your father hissed at Henry.

“It was part of his job, papa.” You cut him off, before his temper flared too much. “He had to do it for paperwork and other Council stuff. After he did that, he took me back to his place in Sector Two.”

“Is that where you've been this whole time?” Your father asked, his eyes narrowed angrily at Henry.

“It is.”

“And you couldn't contact us?” Your mother asked, upset. “Sent us something to tell us you were alive and all right?”

“She wanted too, many times.” Henry finally spoke up. “But, her life was in serious danger, and if she contacted anyone close to her, like yourselves, you would have been in grave danger as well. So, we didn't contact you for that reason.” He explained to them, hoping to ease that conflict.

“And how did you get shot?” Your father asked, still angry.

“I found out where Mikey was going.” You answered, quietly. “He was heading to Bristol, to advance his training as a Runner.” You gulped and looked up at Henry. “I ran away from Henry, and went to Bristol, trying to find him. I knew he was going to be in a load of trouble and I wanted to try and prevent that; to make him come home.” You explained to them, starting to shake.

Henry wrapped an arm around you and hugged you against him. “You can do this.” He whispered into your ear, gently.

Nodding and clearing your throat, you continued. “Henry came after me, trying to get me to return to London with him.”

“But, she wouldn't come back without Mikey.” He added, nodding his head at you, his eyes only on you. “I was meant to bring her back, so she could testify against her captors. But, I was also meant to bring Michail in, for his part in the Running business.”

“When we got to Bristol and started looking for him, people were looking for me, and they found us.” You picked up the narrative. “They took Henry after he made sure I was out of the way and safe. They hurt him.” You said, looking at his still bruised and cut up face. “I tried to go after him, but they got me as well.”

“While all that was going on, they somehow found out that Mikey and I were related and brought him in as well, locking us all in the same room.”

You stopped talking, trying to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed and turning into a sobbing mess. Your parents sat there for a long time, watching you try to control yourself and got the feeling something very bad had happened, worse than everything you were telling them.

“Where is Michail?” Your mother asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He's-” You licked your lips and shook your head, unable to get it out of your mouth.

“I am sorry to inform you both.” Henry replied for you. “But, Michail didn't make it.” He said gently, using his High Marshal voice, the only way he knew how to say it to your grieving parents.

“They were forcing me to decide which of the three of us would go first.” You sobbed, shaking. “Mikey made the choice to take his own life, so we could live.”

Your mother wailed and threw herself on your father, howling and sobbing, screaming at the top of her lungs about the loss of her beautiful and precious boy. You sat there with Henry, clinging onto him and wincing at each terrible and heartbreaking cry your mother made into your father's neck. Your father sat there, stoically, but silently crying as he held her and rocked back and forth.

“I'm sorry.” You whined at them, drained. “I tried. I tried so hard to bring him back.” You mewled at them, crushed.

Your father's eyes were on Henry as they both comforted the women they loved. “And you, what do you get in all this?” He asked, suspicious. “You bought my daughter, are you going to keep her from her family, still?”

“No, sir.” Henry replied, frowning back at him. “I love your daughter. I have treated her as my equal from the moment I saw her, and she will always be my equal. I don't want her as a Slave or a Servant.” He looked at you and wiped your tears away.

“I just want her.” He whispered, smiling gently at you. “Forever and always.”

[novelconcepts]

24 and 10, just because I'm curious how these two could possibly be combined

confusing a handshake for a fist bump and lifting someone up out of excitement

She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years. Hard to believe that. Hard to imagine. Jamie was such a fixture of her life at Bly, such a steady lantern in the dark for all those months--late-night conversations, endless hands of cards dealt, what felt like half the Wingrave wine cellar drained dry between them--that Dani genuinely forgot what it was to not have Jamie in her world. Jamie, who had been there for a single summer, feeling like the sanest measure of her entire life.

And then Dani had moved on. Hadn’t had a choice. The job was for the summer, and Wingrave had decided to try his hand at fatherhood, of a kind. There was no place for an au pair any longer. And there were other roads, Dani sensed, calling her name.

She’d said goodbye, and it had hurt. Hannah, holding her close. Owen, sniffling back tears without apology. The kids, clutching her around the legs. 

Jamie, extending a hand. 

Jamie, who had so quickly become her best friend in all the world, extending a hand. 

She’d bumped it stupidly, her fingers curled into a fist to keep from properly touching Jamie’s skin. It hadn’t been intentional, exactly, though some part of her--red-faced and replaying the moment on a loop in the cab--thinks it might have been safer to lean into the mistake. If she’d taken Jamie’s hand, given it a firm shake, she’s not sure what would have followed. Not sure she would have been able to keep her balance, with her thumb braced along the backs of Jamie’s knuckles, with Jamie’s palm smooth against her own. 

Better to look stupid, she decided, in the long run. Anyway, their time together had lasted all of three months. Seasons come, seasons go, and Jamie would forget her soon enough. Surely. 

It’s been two years. Two years, and Henry Wingrave--cleverer than he’d looked, sneaking booze into his teacup at an awkward interview--had somehow found her address. The letter was neatly printed, an invitation: Miles’ thirteenth birthday, back at the manor. He hadn’t asked for much. They all missed her.

They all. 

She tells herself not to think about it on the flight over. Tells herself not to pick it apart, calling a cab. Tells herself, remembering with a stutter of mortification how her loose fist had jabbed Jamie’s outstretched fingers, they means very little. A kindness, she suspects. A polite phrasing. We all miss you, Miss Clayton, very much. 

Do you? she wonders, wringing her hands, gazing out at the once-familiar landscape. Do you all miss me? All of you?

As if one doesn’t matter just a little more than the rest.

As if she hasn’t been dreaming of one member of that little family more than she’s comfortable with. 

She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years, and she’s almost terrified to find out what might have happened to their too-easy, too-warm friendship in her absence. Jamie had not been an easy wall to crack open in the first place. She’d been tough and wiry at the start, with wary eyes and a short temper. Kind, yes, and easier to talk to than she’d had any right--but difficult, all the same. It had taken weeks for Dani to coax her into genuine conversation. A month before she’d believed Jamie truly did brighten, to see her coming through the door. 

Two years. How tall could those walls have grown by now? How heavy might the door barring her from Jamie’s life be, with all those months of silence stretched between them?

Why didn’t you write? she imagines Jamie saying, her mouth curled in a grim smile. Didn’t even try, did you?

Not true, though Dani can’t fathom telling her so. Dani did try. Over and over, not just for those first few months, but for two years. Two years trying to put it all down on paper. Two years trying to explain how Jamie--her eyes gleaming in the firelight, her smile sweet, her hand brushing Dani’s without thought--had been the only person on her mind, no matter what she tried to do about it. 

Two years trying to find the words for a letter to explain what she knows, and what she can’t believe, and what she can’t get away from: that it had taken only a single season, to fall in love. That it had taken only a single season to find someone she honestly can’t imagine life without. 

Jamie wouldn’t understand. 

Two years. And now she’s here, pulling up the winding drive to that big old house she’d called home for almost no time at all. She’s here, stepping out of the cab, feeling no older than the au pair who had run from grief and wound up finding a short-lived, powerful purpose. 

They’re waiting for her, she realizes--lined up outside the house like Flora’s dolls. Hannah, as beautiful as she remembers, with a brand new ring on her third finger. Owen, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, his apron dusted with flour. Flora, almost willowy with newfound height, launching at her, and Miles, broader in the shoulders, brighter in the eyes, reaching to kiss her hand. 

Henry, too, looks pleased to see her. He looks healthy, his skin no longer the sallow of a man hidden away from the world. He smiles, and he presses her into a loose embrace, and she thinks it was worth going away, if this little family was able to bloom in her absence. 

They’re all here. They’re all wonderful.

Except.

She doesn’t ask where Jamie is. Tries her damnedest not to let them see the crestfallen expression she turns inward, the plummet of her heart. Jamie isn’t here. Jamie has, perhaps, moved on, too--found a new job, a new life, elsewhere. 

Jamie is gone, and no matter how wonderful the rest of them are--no matter how glad to see them she is--this will never feel quite right. 

“You’re just in time,” Hannah is saying. “Supper’s about ready, we’re just going to set the table. If you wouldn’t mind doing one thing?”

Pasting a smile onto her face, Dani nods. “Anything. Point the way.”

“You remember the greenhouse, I assume?”

A flutter, kicking up in her chest, hard enough to rattle her voice when she says, guardedly, “Of course.”

“Our last party is working late,” Hannah says, sounding slightly grumpy. “Again. Honestly, you’d think she’s growing the key to immortality out there, with the hours she’s been keeping.”

“She--” Dani swallows. Keep it simple. Keep it normal. It’s been two years. “She’s still...?”

“Grouchy?” Owen suggests. “Stealing my best biscuits?”

“Here,” Dani breathes. He looks perplexed, his head inclined in affirmation.

“Of course. Couldn’t pry her from those roses, the stubborn woman.”

They say it like it’s obvious, like the story was only ever going to play out this way--but even as she’s striding across the grounds at a brisk pace, Dani isn’t sure she believes it. Could it be a prank? An elaborate way to get back at her for leaving? Maybe she’ll reach the greenhouse, place her hand on the door, and find the place gaping open with nothing but ghosts for company--

Jamie’s back is to her, the gray of her coveralls stamped with dirt. Her hair is loose, her head bobbing, and Dani--her steps cautious as she confirms, yes, this is the same woman who has been turning up in her dreams for months--realizes she’s wearing a pair of headphones. Her hands are steady, though her boot taps out a rhythm, and when Dani gets close enough, she picks up the hum of Jamie singing under her breath.

Jamie, no different than she recalls. Jamie, exactly the same, bopping along to the Walkman poking out of her pocket. 

Jamie, who turns and leaps with surprise, jerking the headphones down around her neck. 

“Christ,” she breathes. “Scared the living shite out of me.”

“Sorry.” She isn’t, though. Somehow. Maybe because Jamie’s bewildered expression is already giving way to a huge smile. Maybe because Dani suddenly can’t breathe, overwhelmed by the memories of this very room--cards and conversation, wine and laughter. Jamie’s hand, brushing her own. Jamie’s eyes, searching her face. 

Jamie, never quite closing the gap. Never quite daring. 

“You weren’t meant to be here until six,” Jamie is saying now, brushing the hair from her eyes. Dani glances at her watch.

“It’s six-thirty-nine.”

“Fuck,” Jamie mutters. “Lost track of--was supposed to help in the--never mind.” 

She’s staring at Dani like she can’t quite believe her own eyes, her smile so enormous, Dani can’t imagine how she’d ever thought Jamie could be gone. Jamie, who is such a fixture. Jamie, who is so reliable, so wonderfully here. 

“Can I hug you?” she asks, and Jamie all but charges toward her. It’s a clumsy embrace, arms tangling around shoulders, Jamie’s hips bumping her own. Jamie, who hugs her so hard, leaning back, Dani’s feet actually leave the ground.

“Missed you,” she breathes into Dani’s ear. “Wanted to write. Wanted to--didn’t know what I’d fuckin’ say.”

Dani buries her face in Jamie’s neck, inhaling the long-missed combination of soil and sweat, that undercurrent of mint that follows every cigarette. It’s not a polished, pretty scent; it reminds her of summer afternoons, of hard work, of Jamie’s smile flashing over a glass of water. 

It reminds her of the heat in her fingertips, the urge to catch Jamie by the sleeve and pull her close, the reflexive lean of her body into Jamie’s on the couch as they both teetered toward dozing off. 

“We’re supposed to be at dinner,” she says, relishing the slide of Jamie’s skin against her own. “We’re late.”

“M’always late, these days,” Jamie replies. “Think it’s worth it this time.”

“Can we--” Dani swallows. “Not now, I know we’re supposed to--for Miles. But after? Tonight? Can we talk?”

I can’t walk away again, she thinks. I can’t go another two years without this. I can’t put it in a letter, but I can’t let it go, either. Not without knowing.

Jamie can’t read her mind, she’s sure--and yet, Jamie’s hand cupping her cheek, Jamie’s thumb pulling gently across her skin, seems to find everything in the silence. Jamie nods once, letting her hand fall away. 

“Think I’d like that very much, yeah.”

It takes every ounce of self-control, not to hold her hand all the way back to the house.

[kitty0boy]

So it’s like 2 am rn and I’m tired but can’t sleep so I wrote this down quickly. It’s a little Marichat fic that probably won’t be very good because I’m running on like 5 hours of sleep. I’ll probably fix spelling mistakes tomorrow or even just delete this but for now, enjoy.

—————————

The class decided to have a picnic to celebrate their last year at Francois DuPont high school. They were about 17 now, some were 18. Everyone lounged around, eating pastries, talking about their first day back from summer and just genuinely having a good time. Unfortunately Adrien’s father had instructed him to go home so while he packed his belongings, he listened to his friends conversations. That was when he saw a younger girl run up to Lila.

Now Adrien knew he had a lot of fans, as Chat and as himself. The older and more, how you say, well defined he became, the more fans he acquired. Though when it came to Chat, being a fangirl was much more dangerous. At one point it got so bad that Ladybug had to schedule an interview with the Ladyblog telling them to stay away during akuma attacks. They would quite literally, chase after Chat while he was being chased after by an akuma. He even saw one of them pretend to be hurt so he would swoop in and save them. Yeah very dangerous stuff. Which is why it was quite a scared to hear that Lila was a fan.

“Of course I’m a fan of his, in fact, I’m quite close with one of Paris’s superheroes.” She spoke, hiding the lying tone to her voice. As irritating as she was, he had to admit she was good. “Really?” The girl squealed. She was on the younger side, maybe 13 or 14, about his age when he first got his Miraculous. “Oh leaving so soon Adrien?” She said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Yeah, my father again.” He replied, trying to sound friendly. “I can walk you home if you like! I wanted to speak with Mr. Agreste anyways. About our up coming photo shoot.” Damn it, he’d almost forgotten about that. He hated shoots with Lila. Adrien had always liked physical affection, but with her it was almost unbearable. “No that’s ok, I can walk him.” Marinette offered, stepping in to shield him from the object of his discomfort. And what a beautiful shield she was.

Her days of pigtails were over, instead she would wear her hair in different styles everyday. Today was a half up half down style with space buns, very reminiscent of her fight as Multimouse. She has also settled for a mint green t-shirt and a black skirt which clearly paid homage to his superhero self. It was nearly impossible to wipe the Cheshire grin off his face as she strode over, picnic basket in hand. He was visiting her while she finished the little paw prints along the hem of the skirt, but of course she wouldn’t know that. “Wow miss, I really like your outfit! Where’d you get it?” The girl squeaked rushing over. Her eyes shining with pure joy. “Oh why thank you, I actually made it myself.” She curtsied, very adorably in his opinion. “Wow that’s so cool! Could you make me one?” If she got anymore excited she would float into space. “You know, I can get Chat to stop by if you wanted.” Lila chimed in, drawing the girls attention back to her. “Really?” She turned and ran towards her new favourite person. “Of course I can, my boyfriend always seems to find me.” She faked a gasp and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “Whoops.” She exhaled. The class gasped. That was what she was looking for.

“You’re dating Chat Noir Lila?” Marinette snickered, silencing them. It was clear that Lila had more influence over the class now. As much as they all loved Marinette, Lila had successfully made herself more interesting. “Yes I am, but I wasn’t supposed to say that. Oh no, I’m going to get into so much trouble.” She delicately placed her fists over her chest for added effect. Marinette burst out laughing and that’s when Adrien slowly started to back away unnoticed by his friends.

He ran and ducked into an alley way making sure he wasn’t followed. “Oh come on kid, I didn’t even get anything from the picnic. You should have at least slipped me something.” Plagg groaned. “I will after I go sort this mess out, it’s dangerous if people think Lila is dating me, she could be targeted by Hawkmoth.” He rationalized. “Big deal, if she gets akumatized we can just purify her no problem.” “Uh yeah Plagg it is a big deal. What if Hawkmoth kidnaps her instead, as much as I don’t like her I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” “Well kid if she gets kidnapped because she lied about dating you it’s not your fault is it? Now can I at least finished eating?” He sighed, Plagg was right. If she got kidnapped now she only had herself to blame. An idea did pop into his head. Maybe if she was proven wrong, she might stop saying things like that, and he knew the purrfect purrincess to help him achieve his goal. “Later, Plagg Claws Out!” A flash of green later and there’s stood Chat Noir, in all his leather-clad glory. Hopping onto the roof, he made to move towards them when the sound of shouting caught his attention.

“Do you realized how dangerous it is to even say things like that!” Marinette squeaked, really living up to her super identity and the mysterious multimouse. “You can’t just tell people you’re dating superheroes for attention Lila, you’re safety could be at risk.” She pointed, Lila seemed to be unphased but there was something about her posture that showed she was guilty and ticked off. “I already told you I didn’t mean to let it slip, I have a rare condition c-“ “called Liars Luny or something like that right?” Marinette interrupted. He had to hold back a laugh at her clever remark. “Marinette that was incredibly rude.” Rose intervened, and one by one everyone turned their faces to Marinette, a glared placed on almost all of them. All but Nino and Alya, who had long discovered Lila’s manipulative ways. Though they were still afraid to say anything about it, they didn’t want her to get akumatized after all.

“Look Marinette, if you’re jealous just say so, I won’t be mad. I’m sure a lot of other women would love to get their hands on my sweet kitten. I mean, considering your outfit it’s pretty obvious you have a crush on him.” You know, for a compulsive liar, Lila seemed to be good at getting the truth out of others. Marinette’s face turned pink and her fists began to clench. Her back stiffened up too, was she really jealous? Or was it just his imagination. Maybe he hoped she was, he had fancied her for a while now but he never made a move. Suddenly his classmates were surrounding her and she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

His anger from earlier started to rise to his chest as he let out a low growl and leapt off the roof. Thankfully, his years as a model made him a fairly decent actor as well.

“Fancy seeing you here my purrincess.” He purred walking over to the group. “You look radiant as always.” Lila stiffened but quickly tried to look relaxed as she confidently strode towards him. “It’s nice to see you here too kitten, couldn’t stay away from me I see.” She smiled, it almost looked genuine. It didn’t take long for her possi of classmates to follow behind, leaving Marinette standing there clearly distraught, he growled again as a tear slid down her cheek. Keeping it cool, he cooked up a response. “Umm, I’m sorry but do I know you?” He said in mock confusion. The class gasped slightly, “Of course you know me, didn’t you just call me your princess?” Lila chimed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “No. I have no idea who you are, I was talking to the lovely lady in green and black. She is radiant isn’t she, and she looks fantastic in my colours.” He replied cooly. Before anyone had time to react he ran through the crowd and picked up Marinette, twirling her in a circle. She giggled slightly, her throat a little strained. She placed her forearms on his shoulders, intertwining her fingers behind his head as he slowly lowered her to the ground. “What’s wrong love?” He reached up, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. She got the hint to play along. “Nothing I’m all good kitty.” She smiled genuinely and he smiled back. Ignoring the eyes of everyone around them. He held up his arm and gestures to her skirt. “Do you see all of these little paw prints? She sewed them all herself! It took her 4 hours too, I almost couldn’t draw her attention away from the stitching.” She blushed and buried her face in his shoulder, oh mon dieu she was so cute. “And these shoes,” he scooped her up bridal style and she laughed. “See the little toe beans, how adorable.” The girls squealed and ran over to admire her craftsman ship while the boys kept glaring daggers at Ms. Lie-la. “Ok now stand back everyone! We have to show you how it spins.” Marinette cocked and eyebrow at him. “How it spins? Excuse me sir but my pronouns are she/her.” He chuckled before pinching the black fabric of her skirt. “No I mean this, you did wear shorts today did you not?” “I did.” She confirmed. “Good,” he subtly winked at her before continuing, a little louder than necessary, “Wouldn’t want everyone else seeing what’s mine now would we.” Before she could register his words he held a hand above her head and gave her a little twirl, her skirt flowing beautifully in the wind. “See what’d I tell you? Absolutely beautiful.” He turned and smiled down at her, she blushed back up at him. Dieu, he could happily die drowning in her eyes. The two of them seemed to be in a world of their own, just looking at each other.

Until a voice snapped them back to reality. “I can’t believe you! You filthy cheater!” As well as a liar, Lila was a good actor. Tears streaming down her cheeks, arms straighten and hands curled into fists. He rolled his eyes before forcing them to look at a more revolting sight. “Like I said miss, I have no idea who-“ he paused “Oh wait I remember you! You were the liar that nearly got Marinette expelled weren’t you! The one who tried to intervene when Onii-chan was akumatized just because you disliked Ladybug.” He didn’t mean to get so angry but he couldn’t hide it anymore. His hand gripped Marinette’s shoulder a little more tightly than he would have liked but she wasn’t hurt by it. Everyone gasped on cue and turned to Lila who stood there pale. Karma is a bitch isn’t it? In his fury he barely registered Marinette’s hand on his arms. “Come on Chat, let’s get out of here.” She whispered. Coaxing him back to the present. “Yeah ok, I’m sure your friends will deal with her.” She smiled at her classmates who had turned towards Lila with furious looks on their faces. “Did you have a place in mind mousinette.” She giggled at that. “Well there’s always that spot you took me to the first time you came to visit, remember where it is?” She smiled. “I don’t think I would forget that.” He turned towards the crowd. “Welp, me and the princess will be taking our leave now, though I did enjoy seeing you all again.” Then he stooped down to pick her up bridal style as she giggled. For good measure he placed a light kiss to her temple before racing off towards that lovely spot they had just discussed.

“WHAT THE F***.” The fangirl screamed after all the confusion.

———————————

So it’s been a month or two since I first posted this and I decided to clean it up a bit and add a few more details to it. Not that this is suddenly going to blow up but I do like the impurrovement (hehe I have puns for days). So yes, if by some miracle you are reading this, I hope you enjoyed!

[dragonturtle]

99 from the sensory prompt list pls

Anon bebé, probably you didn't asked for this but here, have some p*rn

(Set in the girls running Sweet P's s4 era)

99. hard candy dissolving in your mouth

It was supposed to be an urban myth, a thing that was around when she was in her twenties and never had the time nor wanted to do it. Now it’s a thing all people do and they do TikTok videos about it. Annie made damn sure that she’d seen them all and per pressure her every time she could to buy this stupid new product. So she says no, of course. Beth has other priorities.

Thing is she won’t order 15 dollars a package “mints” online to perform oral sex. To whom? Beth’s not answering this to herself. No.

Never mind. She’s way too busy to think about it. With the city council founding campaign, printing money, kids at home, the SS back to get Nick, managing a freaking strip club with angry and horny men to keep in line, a Rio to also deal with and–

Right, him. Rio’s in front of her in the printing room in Sweet P’s, saying something about new money coming for them to launder, eyeing her campaign t-shirt again that she’s now wearing –she was out convincing the night crowd to vote for her.

“I won’t spend 20 bucks on it, mama. I told ya. But you look damn good in white.”

The compliment makes her ever spinning mind stop for a second. Rio’s face froze, caught in words he shouldn’t have said, that slipped from his mouth way too soon. And she also can’t believe what this compliment (Is it? No, he’s fucking with her) could mean. She notices her mouth is getting drier and drier and she now can’t stop thinking about it. About those damn candies that are supposed to help with cottonmouth and get you to produce more saliva, ready to suck–

But now he’s looking at her in that lewd way, which always gets them fighting for power and never fucking, that she’s regretting not being a normal human being impulse buying things on the internet and following Annie’s terrible ideas.

Why are they so close? Have they ever been this close?

He’s biting his bottom lip hard and she’s remembering another wasted time of theirs, a proposition for sex on top of a desk, and now, with all the bourbon and empowerment of that pre politician sweet talking she’s been doing all day, she’ll take the opportunity.

What if she’s going for his belt, tracing with a finger against his bulge, nails scraping the thick fabric on his jeans. What if she’s falling to her knees, both hands sliding his pants and boxers down his legs, freeing his hard cock from their restraint. What if she’s slipping three Altoids into her mouth, the sudden memory of all those articles and internet virals lightening her curiosity.

Once, she read that if you sucked someone off after eating 15 of them it could give them a burn, and even if he hates him most of the time, she won’t do it. Even if thinking about it is the perfect vendetta.

Who’s she even kidding? She’s wet and panting against his dick, and one of his hands grabs his balls while the hard mints are tingling in her tongue, her impatience running extremely high and Beth wants to crush them and get it on with, fast.

Instead, she decides to look at him, brown eyes big and drunk on something else rather than alcohol.

The first time her lips touch his cock, Rio shudders and she can’t help but roll her tongue against the tip then flattens it to take him deeper. Her mouth feels hotter than usual and his cock’s actually throbbing in her mouth, one of his hands grabbing her shoulder. After a few seconds of sucking she lets go of him with a wet sound.

And he’s weirdly quiet, her dainty hands still going up and down his shaft, twisting ever so slightly. Then, she remembers: the hot and cold sensation. It wasn't a myth after all.

So it took her three mints and a blow job to shut his mouth forever? She’ll take her opportunity.

“If you like it so much, why won’t you buy me one?”

And she blows air on his dick, coldness making him open his eyes so big she haven’t never seen him like that, so stunned and, probably, turned on. Rio grabs her by the nape to make her stand up, involuntarily pulling some hairs that makes her moan and she stops her incessant giggling, his warm mouth finding hers, sucking her spearmint flavored tongue.

Yeah, he'll definitely buy it.

[vcg73]

FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014.  I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.  

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.  

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

 Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

 Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard! 

 He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

  Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday?  My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there.  What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

   Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

 Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.  

Burt was less lucky.

 Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us!  Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

 Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

 Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs.  Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty.  Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

 Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.  

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

 Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right?  Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

 Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

 Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

  Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

 Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this.  Just remember everything I taught you.  You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

 Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.  

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.  

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

  Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

 Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

 Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

 Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima.  He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

 Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though.  Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love.  May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

[spookyboywhump]

May 15th

AHAHA I FINISHED IT AND I LIKE IT

Soft content for Eli’s birthday, featuring some baby Eli content as well

CW: fluff. Eli cries a bit. It’s actually quite happy

***

He kicked his legs excitedly as he sat there in the booth, his brand new shark stuffie clutched tightly in his arms. He was so small, it was quite big compared to him, but that just made it all the better in his opinion. He was only just now turning six years old, but he was certain this was the best birthday, and the best gift he’d gotten in his whole little life.

Everett had kept him home from school that day, he was already excited to brag to anyone who would listen tomorrow about how cool his brother was for doing so. He had made him breakfast, pancakes with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and after that he’d let him choose his own clothes for the day, instead of the strict and stuffy outfits their mother preferred he wore. He didn’t even fight him on his hair, simply tied it back in two ponytails for him instead of fighting with a brush while he cried. To him, it was already a great day just from the morning.

After that, he’d taken him out for the day. He’d repeatedly asked him where they were going but Everett simply assured him it was a surprise, only serving to make him more excited. He hadn’t been able to guess where Everett was taking him, but when he saw it was the aquarium, he had accidentally squealed from how excited he was, happily flapping his hands until Everett picked him up and had him sit on his shoulders so he wouldn’t run off in his excitement, as he was known to do.

He was completely in awe of the exhibits they passed through. They spent nearly thirty minutes in front of the tank of moon jellies because he just couldn’t stop staring at them. He thought that was the best, at least, he did until they entered one room where they could actually touch things. Everett was hesitant to do so but he set him down in front of the low tank, and he had absolutely no issue with sticking his hand into the water, gasping when his fingers brushed over the back of a small passing stingray.

“E-Ev- Ev! It’s a, it’s like a, like a pancake!” He giggled excitedly. He snatched his hand out of the water, spreading his hands out as he said, “It’s uh, it’s uh, it’s smooth and flat, it’s like a- like a pancake!” He said, waving his hands excitedly.

“A pancake? Really?” Everett laughed, and he nodded, happy to stick his hands back into the water, a look of absolute glee on his face.

They spent a long time at the aquarium, simply because he felt the need to look at everything for a prolonged period of time. Everett didn’t seem to mind though, he let him take his time and on their way out they stopped in the gift shop. He wasn’t the kind of kid to ask for anything, he knew the answer was likely to be no, but he couldn’t stop staring at the shark plushies, and after a while of him looking between them and his brother, Everett said he’d buy it for him, since it was his birthday after all.

He took him out for lunch once they finally left, and then to a park so he could run around, holding onto his shark while he did so so it wouldn’t get dirty. And now, as the day was ending, he brought him to a small ice cream shop, an especially rare treat for him. He’d gone to get their ice cream, leaving him there alone but still in his line of sight. He perked up when he saw him coming back, he had a cup with large scoops of mint chocolate chip ice cream for him and one with strawberry ice cream for himself.

“Here you go, kid.” Everett said, setting it down in front of him as he took a seat across from him.

“Th-tha-thank you!” He said, grabbing the spoon and excitedly shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

“Have you had a good day?” He asked him, taking a bite of his own ice cream while he happily nodded.

“Mmhm! I-I- I had- had fun!” He giggled softly. “I like- I liked the- the- the fish! And- and my shark! I love my- my- my shark!”

“Are you gonna name it?” He asked, and he looked to the shark, making a face as he thought it over.

“Mmmm… Ev.”

“Yeah?”

“N-No- no his name- his name is Ev.” He said, looking up at him. “Since Ev got him- got- got him for me, his name- his name is Ev.” He said, and Everett smiled at him.

“You’re a sweet kid, you know that?” He said, and he giggled, happily shoving more ice cream into his mouth.

By the time they finished he was bouncing in his seat, even more hyper from the sugar. Everett cleaned up after them, getting up and leaving the table for a moment. He watched his brother, on his way back he stopped somebody, asking them to take a quick picture of them together and explaining it was his birthday. When they agreed, he sat down next to him, pulling him into a hug, both of them flashing big grins as the stranger took a picture, commenting on how cute the pair of siblings were as they handed the phone back to Everett.

“Can I- can I- can I see?” He asked, getting up on his knees, and Everett showed him the phone, the photo of them together, he had a big grin on his face, one of his front teeth missing and his shark still in the background. “Oooohhh! I- I love- I love it!” He giggled, and Ev smiled, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Happy birthday, kid.” He told him, and he clung to him tightly, a big smile spread across his face.

After they left, Everett carried him home, having to carry his shark in one arm so he wouldn’t drop it. It was quite late in the day, and after spending so much time out and being so active, he was quickly growing sleepy, struggling to keep his eyes open as they got closer to his apartment. Once there Everett carried him back to their shared room, laying him down and handing him his shark, taking a moment to pull his shoes off for him.

“I’m glad you had fun.” Everett said, brushing wispy strands of brown hair back from his face.

“I- I- I had…” He paused to yawn, finishing with, “I had lots- lots of fun…” He murmured, curling up and cuddling his new shark close. He was asleep in only minutes, a content smile still on his face. Everett smiled as he looked down at him, so happy and so relieved he’d been able to do this for him.

***

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Not just yet, we’re almost there.” Zander told him, steering him by the shoulders. “And no peeking.” He told him, Eli snapping his good eye shut when he said it. They’d spent the day out together, Zander had taken him to the aquarium and listened to all his talking and rambling, and now they were finally returning to his apartment, but Zander was insistent that he kept his eyes shut. He heard him unlock the door and push it opened, tugging him inside by his wrist and only stopped in what Eli assumed was the dining room just off his living room.

“Alright- you can open your eyes now.” Zander told him, and he didn’t have to be told twice.

“Surprise!”

He nearly jumped back, startled but a grin quickly spread across his face at what he saw. Cara, Lila, Alec, even Alondra were there, crowded around his dining room table. They’d hung a happy birthday banner on the wall behind them, and gotten blue and white balloons for him, tying them to the chairs. They’d hung pale blue streamers from the ceiling, and on the table was takeout food from his favorite restaurant, and a cake with blue icing and number candles for “25”, and the words “Happy Birthday Elias”.

“Eli- shit, kid are you okay?” Zander asked, sounding worried as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth, blinking back tears.

“I’m- I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m sorry, I love it!” He laughed.

“Aww, Elias you can’t cry on your birthday!” Cara said, coming around the table and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no I’m so happy! This is perfect, I love you guys!” He said, reaching up and wiping at his eyes. Cara pulled away so they could all take a seat at the table, Alec using a lighter to light the candles, the small group singing happy birthday for him while he tried to keep from crying again.

“Make a wish!” They told him and he blew out the candles, smiling as Zander ruffled his hair.

“What did you wish for?” He asked him, and Eli laughed.

“I’m not telling, I want it to come true.” He said. He gladly accepted a slice of cake when Alondra passed him a plate, looking excited.

“I hope you like it, they said this was your favorite.” She said, and he grinned when he saw the inside was layered vanilla cake, one layer white and one colored blue.

“You made this?” He asked, and she nodded as he took a bite, only for his eyes to widen. “Oh shit- this is amazing!” He covered his mouth to hide the grin on his face, looking up at her. “I love it! Thank you so much!” He said, and she grinned at him.

“I’m so glad!” She looked both happy and relieved at the same time, as though she’d really feared he wouldn’t.

It was easily one of the best nights he’d had in a while, surrounded by his friends as they ate and talked and laughed. Once they had all had their fill of food, they brought Eli into the living room, having him sit down on the couch in front of the coffee table, a few gifts placed in front of him that they insisted he opened.

Cara and Lila had gotten him matching pink and green squid shaped pillows, and Alec had gotten him a set of books he’d been collecting. Alondra had given him a homemade apron, made from jellyfish printed fabric and a set of blue baking spatulas with white polka dots, measurement conversions printed on the back, and Zander had gotten him an adorable cat shaped lamp, which would fade through different colors when it was one. He was so excited over each and every one of them, to the point of frantically flapping his hands as he thanked them, looking overjoyed.

“Oh, there’s one more thing.” Zander told him, going across the room to get something from the closet.

“We all picked this one out for you.” Cara told him, and Eli grinned as Zander brought back a rather large gift bag, filled with blue tissue paper. He had to pull quite a bit of it out to get to it, but his face lit up as he saw the item inside.

“Oh my god! I love it!” He cried, pulling out the large dolphin stuffed animal. It was absolutely adorable, he instantly hugged it close to his chest, already in love with how soft it was.

“We’re glad you like it.” Zander said, ruffling his hair. “Happy birthday, kid.” He said, sitting down and pulling him into a hug, only for the others to join in as best they could. It took all his self control to not burst into tears again, overwhelmed with happiness and love for his friends.

***

That night he laid in bed, Zander next to him as he had stayed the night. Zander had passed out after a few too many drinks but he was still awake, laying there and watching the pale light from his new little lamp change. He smiled, turning onto his side and cuddling both his shark and his new dolphin close to his chest, thinking over that year’s birthday wish.

I wish to be this happy all the time.

[yamithediaperdork]

Just a pup (inuyasha)

Kagome smirked as she looked out the window of her bedroom, watching as Inuyasha popped out of the well looking excited and blushing. It was the second Friday of the month, which per the agreement the two of them agreed on, meant it was Inuyasha's punishment night.

Many of their friends, and well, ANYONE who knew Inuyasha would of been shocked to learn that the bad ass demon slayer was a natural submissive, who got his rocks off being ordered around and teased by people weaker then him, and more to the point, being spanked like a naughty little boy. Lord knows Kagome had been shocked when he confess (Well shocked and amused) and she had agreed to humor the silly pup and spend the second and fourth Friday of every month making him a little bitch, the First and third were romantic date nights.

With date nights in the past (it was just easier to get a seat at a inn then a fancy restaurant in the present) and punishment nights in the present (So no one heard Inuyasha yowling for mercy, They timed it for when Kagome's mom and grandpa would take Souta out to a movie) it was working out to a point, though Inuyasha had started to phone in his half of the deal to Kagome's annoyance.

'Well after tonight he'll know what to expect if he can't measure up~' She thought with a evil little giggle, then went down to meet him at the door.

Inuyasha couldn't help but grin like a fucking school girl as Kagome answered the door, giggling softly. He didn't quite understand why he wanted to be dominated when he hated being hurt (a big part in picking Kagome to punish him, At her hardest she barely hurt his behind, though he played it up like she was killing him) But he knew he was at his hardest when she abused him.

"About time Pup. Your five minutes late." Kagome said, sneering at him and making his cock twitch in his pants.

He knew of course he was on time, it was all part of the role play.

"I'm sorry Miss Kagome, I couldn't help it." Inuyasha mewed, looking down at the floor, his ears drooping, and trying not to grin.

"Oh you'll be sorry alright~" She said and grabbed him by the collar and lead the way to her room. "Though I have a surprise for you my dirty little pup."

"O-Oh?" Inuyasha asked, though he was distracted by a scent in the air as they got to the second story of the house. it was familiar but there's no way it could be what he was thinking it was.

"A yup~ I've noticed that despite all the wailing and whining you do, I'm not really hurting your cute little butt." Kagome said, opening the door to her room.

And sitting on her bed, holding the fire harden wooden paddle with holes drilled into it to cut down on air resistance, was Koga.

"So I asked Koga to help me give you the punishment you sooo seem to need and want. Your welcome." Kagome giggled as Inuyasha froze, blushing and then snarling.

"Now now Pup, none of that!" Koga ordered. "We both know a fight between us would be a draw, but think of how much everyone back home would loooove to hear about what a little fucking wimp you are, that you beg to be spanked and stepped." Koga said, smirking and wagging a finger.

The thought of all of his other friends and well, everyone that they both knew knowing what a little bitch he was took the fight out of Inuyasha, even as his cock twitched and throbbed and tented out his pants, a small damp spot appeared from pre.

"I..but..Kagommmme! the deal wa-" Inuyasha turned his attention to his mistress/girlfriend, but was cut off.

"The deal was I dominate your subby bitch ass and get romantic dates in exchange. do you recall what our 'date' was Pup?" Kagome asked, frowning and shaking her head, and trying not to laugh at how hard Inuyasha was despite looking so mad and scared.

"W-We had a picnic by the lake an-"

"And you spent half of it whining about me not bringing any ramen cups and the other half chasing fish in the water because you didn't like the pasta dish I made for you." Kagome said, glaring.

"O-Oh uh..I'm sorry?" Inuyasha said/asked and poked his index fingers together.

"Like I said before, you WILL be. Koga here knows how to treat bad little pups like you and has lots of fun ideas planned out, and all he wants in return is a little loving." Kagome coo'ed.

"Y-Your not gonna.. with him..are you?" Inuyasha whined, but his cock was leaking big time now.

"Of course I am..Maybe He'll last longer then 30 seconds..Of course if you're THAT against me getting fucked by a real man, someone who doesn't need to be scolded like a naughty little boy..you could always ride Koga." Kagome giggled. "Lords knows you love it when I finger you."

"Heh, Hey I'm a open guy, as long as i get to fuck a nice tight hole i'm game." Koga laughed.

"but..but.." Inuyasha mewed.

"That's right, in your butt..or you mouth. actually yeah, Your gonna wanna suck it first." Koga said, chuckling and gesturing Inuyasha over with a finger. "Now enough of this huffing and puffing and whining, the longer you put this off, the more likely it is more people are gonna find out what a subby little bitch you are."

Inuyasha knew he should just storm out. or at least try and fuck Koga's shit up, even though the wolf demon was right that they were basically equals and would only in a draw. there was a lot of should of's.. but in the end Inuyasha's body betrayed him and he hooked his thumbs in the waistline of his pants and dropped, them, then walked over and knelled in front of Koga, who chuckled and patted his head.

"Good puppy."

Koga found himself a little jealous as he looked down at Inuyasha. just wasn't fair that a total bitch like him could have such a huge piece of fuck meat, 9 1/2 inches when Koga was only a 'mere' 7, though Koga's was thicker.

"Since you went and wasted time with all your whining and bitch, I think you owe me a little something to make up for wasting my time." Koga said, press his bare foot on the tip of Inuyasha's cock, not hard enough to hurt but the puppy let out a whimper even as his cock leaked on Koga's foot.

"Y-Yes Sir. I'm sorry sir." Inuyasha mewed softly.

"The bottom of my feet are dirty from walking to the well and coming though JUST to humor you, so I think they deserve a little tongue bath, don't you?" Koga asked, shifting his weight around on his foot and then switching up, Inuyasha's cock juice coating his soles.

"Heh, Really? I don't usually make him do THAT." Kagome giggled, sitting back and enjoying the show.

"Well I dare say he enjoys the idea." Koga chuckled, raising a foot for her to see the pre all over it,then held it in front of Inuyasha's face. "I'm waiting~"

He was actually testing to see how far he could push the little bitch, and if Inuyasha had outright refused well he'd just make up for it with the paddling. Instead though Inuyasha's cute pink tongue darted out, taking quick fast licks on the sole of of his foot.

"Pfttttt Bwhahahaha!" Kagome laughed. "No way!"

"Heh, good boy Inuyasha, however I want long heel to toe licks. so you get the full experience." Koga instructed.

"Y-Yes sir. Sorry." Inuyasha whined, closing his eyes and leaning in.

"Ah ah ah, and eyes open and looking at me while you do it. I know this is your first time worshiping a alpha males feet so I'm be nice, but we DO have to nip bad habits in the bud~" Koga chuckled.

The half demon nodded and locked eyes with Koga, as much as he could as he slurped and licked away on foot, only closing them when hitting super foul tasting spots on Koga's foot. when the first one was clean, Koga simply offered up the other one and made small talk with Kagome while Inuyasha worked, as if he was just a object.

when it was all over Koga held his feet up, using Inuyasha's shoulders to do see and had Kagome inspect them.

"Hmm yup, they're spotless. Good to know I have a good widdle foot licker I can count on to take care of my feet every night. you wouldn't believe how dirty and smelly they get walking everywhere." Kagome said and Inuyasha whimpered.

"Oh, you don't like that idea pup?" Koga asked, smirking. "It's ok if you only like to worship men's feet. I always figured you played for both teams."

"N-No! I'll lick Kagome's feet!" Inuyasha protested.

"Awww! that's so cute! you think you had a choice!" Kagome squealed and with Koga's feet down she was gonna give him a hug and a kiss, then pulled back and held her nose. "Yuck! foot breath!"

"Yeahhh you're gonna wanna keep lots of mints around if you wanna kiss him after he's been cleaning your feet." Koga laughed as Inuyasha squirmed. "That or just don't kiss him anymore."

"Hmm I'll have to think about that."

"I..but.." Inuyasha whined, turning back and forth looking at both of them.

"Pup, stop fussing and get over my lap, it's time for your reward for being SUCH a good little foot bitch." Koga said, patting his lap.

"...Yes sir." Was all the defeated by his own perverted desires half demon could say, and he got over Koga's lap.

Laying over Koga's lap Inuyasha could feel just how 'excited' this turn of events was making the wolf demon, Koga's manhood was poking him in the tummy.

'a manhood that'll end up in me..or Kagome..All because I couldn't be a good boyfriend.' Inuyasha thought.

He'd never pictured being spanked by anther man, or having to clean someones feet and yet here he was and the most damnable thing of it all was his hard-on wouldn't go away!

his leaking manhood was dangling as Koga kept his legs spread but Inuyasha was fairly certain he was gonna be cumming ropes before long.

'Maybe once I nut I'll be able to clearly..' He thought, then Koga's voice drew his attention.

"Now Inuyasha, as I understand it, Kagome spanks you for 10 minutes., a time length I'm willing to match but I will let you end it early if it's too much for you. All you have to do is say 'Daddy pwease stop!' However if you do that, Or if you wet yourself or cum, you're little bitch ass will be going in diapers for the rest of the night." Koga said and nodded to Kagome who tugged out a pack of thick, nursery print diapers and smirked.

"...What?!" Inuyasha yelped trying to get out of Koga's lap and being held in place with ease, his own submissive nature keeping him for going all out to break free.

"I didn't stutter. But hey, it's ALL you, all you have to do is keep your bladder and cock under control, and take my paddling like a good boy! You can do that can't you?" Koga challenged.

"Yes!" Inuyasha huffed while thinking 'No!'

"of course even if you pee or nut, the spanking will go on till the time limit is up, but every 'accident' means one diaper.. Hope you're not big on repeat performances because I WILL put your butt in that whoooole pack if you 'earn' it." Koga chuckled.

"Is it weird I'm finding the idea of him in huggies while we fuck hawt?" Kagome asked, biting her lip.

"Not at all, we all have our kinks!" Koga said cheerfully and tapped the paddle lightly on Inuyasha's butt. "Right pup?"

"Yes daddy!" Inuyasha said then covered his mouth as Kagome and Koga laughed.

Watching her boyfriend/bitch quiver over Koga's lap, Kagome had no doubt that Inuyasha was gonna be in at least 3 diapers, the little bitch liked to edge himself for at least 3 hours a day on the week when he'd be getting spanked.

'Hell, forget three, I might have to go out and get anther pack of diapers!' Kagome thought, her folds getting damp as she pictured Inuyasha in a massive diaperzilla hugging a teddy bear and watching her get fucked. 'Huh..Kink unlocked.' She mused.

She was drawn out of her little fantasy as the first swat stuck and she could almost feel the force of the blow herself and winced.

the effect on Inuyasha's was almost cartoonish, his semi bubble butt seemed to deform around the force of the paddle as Inuyasha's mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide.

Before he could even begin wailing (which followed quickly enough) Koga stuck anther 3 blows on the pup's backside, quickly turning it bright red and then the howling and sobbing came.

'Damn, 4 blows in about ten seconds..Inuyasha's not gonna be able to sit for a week!'

As blows 5 6 7 and 8 hit Inuyasha was a blubbering mess and couldn't even talk right as a massive cum shot hit the floor.

"Wow that didn't take long." Koga teased. "Kagome could you be a dear and keep count, I don't think our little puppy is gonna be able to."

"of course~" Kagome cooed, and ripped open the package of diapers, taking one out and setting it on the desk next to her, then she winked at Inuyasha. "I think you might wanna toss in the towel pup.. It hasn't even been a minute yet."

"I-I'll never gi- AH FUCK!" Inuyasha had been in the middle of declaring his iron will, how he'd never give up when the paddle started to come down on his red cheek and reduce him back to sobbing and crying, kicking his legs and pounding his fists but there was no way out for him.

Kagome gave up trying to count the blows and just watched Inuyasha's useless big cock swing back and forth and seeing it twitch and tremble at the 2 minute mark got ready to pull out a second diaper, and wasn't disappointed when he indeed fired off again.

"Wow Inuyasha, you much REALLY like being Koga's bitch! Normally you only cum ONCE for me!" Kagome teased. "Or was it worshiping his feet first just primed you up?" She snickered.

Inuyasha couldn't even try and reply, at least with words, but but his body did and Kagome pulled out a third diaper.

Koga had to give Inuyasha credit, the mutt had lasted five minutes so far, which was four more then Koga had counted on. Of course he wasn't going all out either as he wanted Inuyasha able to walk. The pup was up to 6 diapers, and Koga was glad Kagome had insisted on putting down a puppy housebreaking pad since only five of the diapers were from cum shots.

Inuyasha had stopped fighting and was just taking the blows now, and if Koga didn't know any better the half demon seemed to be raising his buns up to meet the paddle.

"C-Come On.. That all you g-got?" Inuyasha said, sniffling and giving a impish grin as he looked over his shoulder.

'Ohhh he's adapted to the pain.. heh..and thinks he's got my number.. adorable.'

"Actually I've been holding back..Trying to be nice. but since you want full force." Koga said,Smiling like he was offering Inuyasha a treat for being a good boy and trying not to laugh at the look of terror on Inuyasha's face.

"Y-Your bluffing!" Inuyasha squealed.

"Heh, I dunno pup, I think he has been, since he'd have to make this last 10 whole minutes." Kagome chimed in, a hand down the front of her panties. "But go ahead, flip that coin. I'm loving the show."

Koga raised his arm up and got ready to deliver a full on blow to Inuyasha's red and bruised back side when Inuyasha screamed, wet himself and JUST before the paddle could hit..

"Daddy pwease stop!" Came out of his mouth.

The paddle stopped though the force from it made the pup's red bubble butt ripple and Koga chuckled as Kagome huffed.

"Boooo!" She whined.

"Now now Kagome, a deal's a deal. Inuyasha, go and stand with your nose in the corner while we clean up and get your DIAPERS ready." Koga said, tugging Inuyasha up in his lap and trying not to melt as the sniffling and sobbing pup hugging him and nodded.. giving Koga a kiss on the cheek before going to the corner.

'If I didn't know any better I'd say someones getting a crush on me.' Koga thought, then him and Kagome started to take care of the clean up.

Nose in the corner and his butt on fire, Inuyasha fought the urge to rub his cheeks since good boys took their lickings. he was confused as to why he had smooched Koga and tried to just play it off as caught up in the mood though as he waited for the ok to come out of the corner he caught himself almost sucking on his thumb three times.

Between the claw on his thumb and how sharp his fangs were he knew THAT wouldn't end well and just shifted from foot to foot.

"Don't tell me you need to use the potty before we diaper you up little guy? You already did two super piddles!" Kagome asked, clearly mistaking his fidgeting for a potty dance.

"N-No Sowwy.." Inuyasha called.

"Well if you wanna try and uh-oh before you go back in diapers, let us know." Koga said.

"Oh? your gonna be that nice?" Kagome asked.

"..Do you really want your room to smell like a poopie diaper?" Koga pointed out

"..Touche...Inuyasha go sit on the potty and try and boom boom!" Kagome ordered, a little too fast.

Inuyasha didn't really feel the need to go, but knew better then to argue and walked by, seeing them laying out the seven diapers and cutting slits in the front and back.

5 minutes later, after giving it a honest try and just pooting on the bowl, Inuyasha walked back in and looked at the massive diaper they had put together for him, apparently taking the time to glue the diapers together to make sure they wouldn't sag.

"Ready to go back into huggies pup?" Koga asked, smiling and grinning, kneeling by the diapers.

Kagome meanwhile was Naked and on the bed, tapping her fingers on the bed frame impatient to get her fun for the night.

"Do I really have a choice?" Inuyasha asked, poking his index fingers together.

it was odd, he was still aroused but for some reason, his wonderful piece of fuck meat was drooping now between his legs.

"heh, not really." Koga said.

"So hurry up! Someone us wanna get laid tonight!" Kagome whined, then glared as Inuyasha blew a raspberry at her. "Koga, spank him again."

"Wait what!?" Inuyasha yelped, and his hands went to his poor bruised backside.

"I don't think I'll have time to spank him and fuck you Kagome." Koga said, sweat dropping.

"finnne just hurry upppp!"She whined.

"Sheesh, are you sure she doesn't need a diaper too daddy?" Inuyasha asked, grinning impishly as he walked over and plopped down on the diapers, feeling like he'd sat on a thick pillow and stirring up some baby powder.

"Hey!" Kagome huffed, blushing.

"heh, Inuyasha, be good. Kagome, settle down." Koga said, shaking his head a little and then quickly got Inuyasha tapped up nice and snug in the diapers and kissed his forehead.

He also reached and grabbed a stuffed dog he'd taken from Souta's room and gave it to Inuyasha to hug and cuddle, then stood up and started to strip.

"Alright Inuyasha, I want you to pay attention and watch how a MAN fucks a woman. you might ONE day be able to please a lady, though I think it's more likely your sex life if gonna be getting spanked and diapered from now on." Koga said, and winked. "and from the look's of things, you don't mind."

Inuyasha went to argue that and then looked down, realizing he'd gotten hard from the mental image of never getting pussy again.

He could of said it was the attention, he could of claimed it was because he knew he was about to get a show..but what Inuyasha did instead was hug the stuffie to his chest and nod.

"Yes daddy."

Somehow seeing her boyfriend reduced to a oversized baby had Kagome hotter then she'd ever been, and as long as he didn't fill the back of the diapers she could see A LOT fun in the future with him in diapers and being cucked.

Of course the fact that Koga was thicker then Inuyasha and would hopefully last longer might of had something to do with it.

Laying on her back and spreading her legs, she looked up at Koga with loving eyed and coo'ed out a plea. "Take me~" feeling like this was some sort of romantic novel...and only to have Koga show apparently all demons could be stupid as he got a confused look on his face.

"Uh..But I thought you wanted to fuck..where am I taking you?" he asked.

"..Demon's..Just stick it in me already." She muttered, face palming.

"Humans.." he muttered and then thrusted into her in one fast motion and grinned as she barked.

As Koga went to work and Kagome found herself unable to speak, she did have enough brain power as she was fucked into bliss think about how many, just maybe.. she shouldn't of assumed she could handle a thicker cock with ease.

Half a hour later and Kagome was left a quivering mess on her bed, drooling and eyes glazed over. Koga had given up trying to keep track of the orgasms she'd had compared to his but knew in the long run of things he was technicality the loser of the night, trailing behind Inuyasha and Kagome with a mere 3.

Licking her clean to improve her chances of not getting knocked up (He wasn't one of those prunes who couldn't handle their own flavor) he covered her up and opened a window to help get the sex smell out of the room, then looked over at Inuyasha.

the half demon had conked out early on in the love making, after squirting in his diapers and the stuffie was thankfully out of his grip even if it was damp with drool from Inuyasha making out with it.

'Now what do I do with him?' Koga thought, rubbing his chin, though his still ready for action cock had a answer even as he got dressed.

He had a inkling that it would be nothing but a headache for Kagome and the pup if he left him here like this, curled up on the floor in his diapers.

'I suppose it's my fatherly 'duty' to just take him with me.' Koga thought, smirking as he slowly scooped up the half demon.

There was no shortage of fun he could have with something like this back home, and heck, wasn't he always getting pestered to settle down and raise a cub of his own?

Two birds one stone.

He thought about leaving a note to explain to Kagome that he was taking Inuyasha with him, but then recalled that the chances of her being able to read wolf tribe were slim to none and besides, she was a clever girl.

Slipping out the window as a car was pulling in the driveway, Koga vanished into well with Inuyasha, musing how he had showed up to be a bull, and left a daddy.

The end