#12 arm curls a day are NOT gonna build enough muscle for that

[roachemoji]

[hiphop-rap-and-basketball]

Ya lil’ Glasses | LaMelo Ball One Shot

Pairing: LaMelo Ball x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,588

Summary: You and LaMelo Ball both attend UCLA for undergrad. Of course he happens to be that hype kid the class that’s loud with his friends. You both get paired up to do a project together for the class. He’s kind of mean and pokes fun and although he gets on your last nerve, you may or may not find him just a little tiny bit cute. Maybe.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, mentions of sex, female and male anatomy, orgasm control, possibly cliche, M/F.

A/N: damn forgive me it’s been a while since I’ve written smut, butttt I’m on a roll with writing lately soo that’s not stopping me. Let me know what y’all think ;) enjoyyyyy and happy reading

•••

You cannot believe you were paired up with Melo Ball for the most important assignment of this course for the semester. Yeah, it’s UCLA but they really just let any good sports player in and you cared about your education. He did not. All he did was mess around and crack jokes

with his friends in the class. Imagine acting like that in college, couldn’t be you.

When it came down to finally finding a time to work on it together, you could not wait to get it over with.

The first time you met with him for the project was in the common hall. You both settle down in your chairs and you pull out your laptops. As soon as Melo pulled his stuff out, he hopped on his phone.

“Can we just come up with an idea and be done today?” You ask, not really in the mood to ask for his full attention.

He looked at you before clicking his phone off and licking his lips.

“Yeah sorry, sorry, I gotchu.”

You cannot help but roll your eyes. He sits there in silence for a moment and actually starts shooting out ideas. You start writing them down until you finally agree on one.

“I think that’s a pretty good start,” you say, proud you guys at least got something down.

“I think so too. What you doing after this?” He asks, running his hands over his curls.

“Track practice at 4, shower, hopefully dinner after,” you say as you close up your laptop.

“You run track? Running is gross,” he laughs.

“How you gonna say running is gross when all you do is run up and down the court?” You ask, a little too loudly, someone shushes you and you both crouch down and begin whispering.

“Basketball is more than that,” he shot back, “you wouldn’t know.”

“Oh here we go, you all say that,” you respond, flicking your wrist at him.

“You all?? What that mean?” He asks.

“As in all the basketball players,” you laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you let me know when track become a real sport,” he fires back.

“It is!” You slam your fist on the table and he smirks, as if he is happy to get you all riled up.

“Mhmmm,” he replies.

“Over this conversation,” you say, getting up and throwing your backpack over your shoulder.

“When you trying to meet next?” He asks calmly, standing up close in front of you. You were looking up at him now, him being more than a foot taller than you made you feel small.

“I’m free all afternoon Wednesday, my class ends at 12:45p.m.”

“You would know when your class ends, nerd.” He responded.

You cock a brow at his attempt at a roast.

“Shut up,” you responded.

“Wednesday at 2p.m. Your dorm. How’s that sound?” He smiles.

“That works,” you shrug. He smiled at you before walking away. You both go your separate ways.

Wednesday came around quickly. Your head hurts today, so you decided to put your glasses on instead of wearing contacts. Even though you knew that would not help you deal with Melo’s bs. He was extra unfocused today.

“How was your dayyy?” He asked as he walking into your dorm room. He looked huge walking through the door it was kind of funny actually.

“Fine, and yours?” You ask, feeling obligated to do so since he asked you first.

“It was alright, better now that we are here working on our project together bestie,” he jokes, plops himself down on your bed to make himself comfortable. You sat on your desk chair facing him.

You caught up with a couple ideas and worked on some your work, actually getting something done, for now.

You had to show each other your screens, so you awkwardly sat next to him on the bed. He sat up. The two of you now with your backs up against the wall and feet hanging off the bed. You sit in silence for a moment.

“I like ya lil glasses, can I try them on?” He asked, smiled and looking in your direction now.

“N-“ before you could answer, he already swiftly pulled them off your face and put them in his anyway. You roll you eyes.

“Do I look smart?” He asked with the cheesiest smile on his face.

“You look stupid,” you reply coldly, although you secretly kind of liked how they looked on him. They fit his face well.

“I think you’re mad they look better on me,” he replied with a scoff.

“You’re sooo annoying,” you reply. Surprisingly feeling yourself fight a smile. “Can you focus please?”

He does the opposite of focusing, eyes looking around your dorm room for a moment.

“Have you ever had sex with a guy? Are you even straight,” He asked, catching you off guard. You took full offense to his question. Not because of him questioning your sexual orientation, but rather him thinking that was his business.

“That’s a personal question,” you respond quickly.

“Seriously? You have this single dorm all to yourself. You don’t even use it to its full benefits. You know how many girls I’d be bringing over if I lived in a single,” he tossed his pencil up in the air and caught it as he spoke.

“I’m here for my sport and to learn, not everything in college is about seeing how many people you can have sex with, Melo.” You responded, typing away at your computer.

Melo slowly lifted your computer off your lap, placing it on the opposite side of him.

“Hey-“ you reach out your hand to it. The room suddenly feeling a lot smaller than it was now that his face was right next to yours and you had nothing to do to keep your hands busy.

“Have you ever even kissed a guy?” He asked, you loosen up at his tone, which oddly enough seems a bit more sincere now.

“Um, no, no actually I haven’t,” you responded quietly, looking down on your lap.

“I don’t believe that.” He responded. “Stop lyin.”

“It’s true,” you shrug, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, making your heart skip a beat or two, but you’re usual chatterbox brain was too nervous to agree.

“Beauty standards have nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone yet. I simply choose not to settle-“

He cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck with his large hands and pulling you in for a kiss. It lasted for what felt like forever but it was only about 10 seconds. Although you were surprised, you did not want to fight it, and you even found you hands settling on top of his shoulders before he pulled away.

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what in his right mind made him want to do that.

“Anyway, I’m ready to focus now,” he smiled, got up and sat in desk chair you were sitting in first.

You sat there eyes wide, trying to process what just happened.

“Um.. yeah… yeah okay,” you say slowly.

You sat there and decided to not acknowledge what just happened as well. Trying to focus on your work, you could not help by to continue replaying that moment in your head. The kiss on repeat for a while. A couple days even. You saw him in class and he was so nonchalant about it. It started to bother you.

It took everything in you not to ask him about the kiss. Not wanting to seem desperate but at the same time what the fuck. That caught you off guard completely.

The next time you too worked together, you worked in his dorm. His roommate was in there with you guys, engaging in the occasional conversation with the two of you.

This time, you actually cared about how you looked, wearing a little make up and wearing a floral sundress that stopped midway on your thighs.

When you walked up to the door, Melo looked you up and down for a moment before letting you in. He had shorts on with no shirt. His athletic build made your cheeks turn hot and look at the ground quickly.

“Welcome in,” he gestured. You walk in and it looks just as you thought a guys dorm room would look like. A damn mess.

You watched him with his back turned as he stood by his closet of clothes, muscles taut as he pulled a new shirt over his head.

You shuffled to get your stuff of your backpack out before he caught you staring and got to work.

His roommate was cute, and you did not care that you were flirting it up with him right in front of Melo. He kissed you with no explanation. You were determined to figure out why.

“Alright, I’m heading to the gym,” his roomie stated and you smile.

“Have funn,” you reply. You watch him walk out the door, looking down at your lap to flatten your dress then look back up at Melo. His face very clearly annoyed and unamused.

“What?” You smirk, asking in an oh-so innocent tone.

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head in response.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “You sound a little pressed.” You push, big smirk on your face as you spoke.

“I’m good,” he replied coldly.

You confidently put your hand on his shoulder and replied. “Okay,” in a sarcastic tone.

He was not fucking with that. He pulled your arm down from his shoulder and pulled you into a kiss, this being your second time feeling his lips on yours. This one was more intense. You remember thinking of his lips and how they felt from the last kiss. Feeling them again made your heart pound with excitement.

“Shut up and don’t make me admit to jealousy,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

His hands gripping the back of your hair and he spoke, eyes bouncing from your eyes and lips.

“Hmmm, I think you just did,” you nod your head and shrug your shoulder. He was not having your sarcastic tone. He pulled you closer to him, this time he was laying down and you were sitting top of his lap. He refused to break the kiss, hands from down your neck to your lower back.

In your mind, you were strategically making sure you were right on top of his dick. His lips felt so good to feel again. You were so lost in the heat of the moment now, as he began using his tongue in your mouth, you let out a small moan for the first time.

He let go of the kiss for a moment and smirked.

“I wanna hear your beautiful moans,” he admitted, voice deep and full of lust.

He flipped you over and now your body was underneath him on his bed. You lied down flat on your back. He hovered himself over you.

Kissing you a couple times more, before kissing his way down your neck and stopping at your breast.

“You knew what you were doing wearing this shit,” he stated sternly.

You roll your eyes, “shut up.”

“You gon stop giving me that smart mouth,” he replied, smirk on his face before making his way down further. Your heart beating even fast now. He lifted up your dress to find you only in a thong.

He quickly looked up you with a smirk on his face, shook his head and carried on. Yanking your panties off, his lip made their way to your clit like a magnet.

You moaned softly at the pleasure, in fear that someone might hear the two of you.

“What if he comes back?”

“I don’t give a fuck, he could watch,” his voice low and eyes hooded, way too focused at the task at hand to even look at you.

Licking and teasing at your folds, you feel yourself getting closer due to all the tension you had built up since you arrived to his dorm, your mind flashing the sight of him when you walked when he was just no shirt on. His dick print very clear through his shorts.

As you felt yourself getting close to the edge, he stopped, and looked up at you.

“Whyyy,” you groaned put your hands over your face in frustration.

“Because, you was talking all that shit,” he said with one finger in your folds as he rubbed it slowly.

“Please,” you said and his surprised eyes look into yours.

“Nope,” he smirked. Now you were not having it.

You reach down to his shorts and very clearly feel his hard member. You looked up at him with pleading eyes as you began to rub it slowly.

He leaned down and started kissing your neck. You and him both knew he did not want this to stop, and he was fighting with every ounce in his bones not to rip your dress off and fuck you right then and there.

But you knew how to get what you wanted.

“Then it’s my turn,” you smile, pushing him off you and getting down on your knees on the side of his twin sized bed.

Knowing you have never done this before, you were slightly worried you would not be that great at it. You moistened your mouth as you pulled his shorts down, you did not have anything to compare his size to, but you were guessing it was bigger than average.

You admired it for a moment before taking it into your mouth. You heard him suck in his teeth as you took a few licks.

“What’s the matter?” You ask innocently looking up at him through your lashes while you swirled your tongue around the tip.

He bit bottom lip threw his head back, you knew that no answer meant that shit was hitting.

“Keep doing that shit with your tongue,” he groaned quietly.

You keep going at it for a while, and stopped when you felt him starting to thrust into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he groaned as he pulled you on the bed, you watched as he began to slowly push himself inside of you, wincing at the pain, he went slow and you warmed up. He looked so good while he stroked you. You started to feel better and better. He watched you as you took all of him now and proudly.

“I told you to stop talking all that shit,” he groaned.

“I don’t regret it,” you smirk.

“You bout to,” he stated as he began to speed up the pace.

You moaned louder as he continued to thrust into you. You could not believe this moment was actually happening. Him giving into it fed into your pride.

You watching at he admired every ounce of body, gripping and tugging at your soft spots. He held your hips as he picked up the pace.

He pulled out and finished himself off on your stomach. You lay there feeling a mess, he gets a towel and you guys get yourselves together throwing the occasional smirk at each other.

“You look so pretty taking this dick,” he stated, grabbing your neck and kissing you slowly. You smiled into the kiss.

“I’ll do it again,” he confirmed, both hands holding your face as he kissed you hard, tonguing you down.

“Chillll,” you laugh. “Let’s get this damn assignment going already.”

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.09

11/12/2020

Stirrings

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,297

Warnings: language, very light smut, sexual situations, weddings, marriage, pregnancy

A/N: So this is it. This is the one. I hope y’all like it. This is where plot rears its head. Or begins to anyway. I’ll leave y’all to enjoy it. If you do happen to like it and reblog it, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT REPOST my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome and appreciated!

Dinner with the Warriors Three is eventful.

Several plates have already been knocked to the ground. Goblets and large mugs of mead and ale drop to slosh across the floor in the ruckus.

With a small yeep you duck just in time as a large sturdy turkey leg dripping with honey glaze and butter flies towards you and then hits the wall behind you.

“Hey!” Thor disapproves at Fandral and Hilde, reaching out towards you with his large hand.

He curls his fingers at you, calling you to him and you rise from your chair. You gather your skirts and scurry towards him in obedience. He wraps his arm around your waist and leads you to sit in his lap, turning slightly sideways so that he can shift to protect you with his body if he needs to.

“Watch where you’re throwing things!” He chastises but is ignored.

Volstagg had also cried out when Thor had, and their voices all mix together.

“Hey!” He rises from his seat so abruptly that it falls back and clatters noisily onto the floor. “Stop wasting the best parts!”

From the spot beside you where the turkey leg had clearly been aimed at but missed, Loki wipes at the juices that sprinkled his face as it flew by.

Heimdall chuckles lightly, his deep timber made to rival Thor’s you feel. Hilde also laughs, reaching out quickly to take Fandral’s plate from him before he can grab another piece of food.

“If you couldn’t take the comeback, why did you mouth off?” Loki asks Fandral, other than his wiping, he seems unphased.

“It was a simple question, Loki.” Fandral counters.

“No, it was a jab.” Sif is actually smiling, and you’ve taken to staring at her every few seconds.

She’s not paying attention to you in the moment, so you sitting on Thor’s lap is not her focus. It gives you lots of time to just admire her beauty. She’s so freaking pretty!

She’s also very much a part of this group. You can see where she fits now and she’s indispensable to these lovely Asgardians.

“All I did was ask him if he has a girl!”

“That’s assuming a woman is what he wants.” Hogun rationalizes, reaching to grab the large roll on his plate.

It’s not a normal roll. It’s made differently than what you know. It tastes amazing, but it has flavors that you’ve never had on Earth before.

“Ooh, that’s a good point.” Hilde snaps her fingers, pointing at Hogun before leaning against the table, arms folded and pushing her empty plate away. “So, what is it, Loki? Male? Female? Non-gendered?”

Loki looks highly aware of the fact that everyone seems to be watching him now. Even you find yourself looking at him, waiting to learn more about your brother-in-law to be.

He finishes wiping his face, dropping his napkin on the table before he leans back, placing his hands on his thighs. He meets Hilde’s gaze and gives her a narrowed eye grimace as he answers, “I don’t have a preference.”

The table seems to deflate, all of them disappointed for some reason.

“Well, that’s gonna make it harder to find you someone.” Volstagg acknowledges.

“It means we’ll have a wider pool to choose from.” Heimdall reasons.

“Loki would need to learn to put others before himself before he can even think about being with someone.” Sif contributes, bringing down the pleasant atmosphere a little.

You can feel Thor tense underneath you, your hands hurrying to give his wide shoulders a squeeze where you’ve got hold of them as he looks to his left at his lifelong friend.

“Sif…” He pleads.

Suddenly, this moment seems endless.

Everyone is silent. Across the table, you see Loki looking a little wounded. Like he’s been punched in the chest. Not hard, but enough to make him flinch.

You don’t like it. You really don’t like it.

You look at Sif with new eyes. And you speak before you can stop yourself. The anger that builds in your chest bubbles up and it’s bitter. It tastes like acid.

Until this moment, you hadn’t realized how much her unwelcoming behavior towards you has bothered you.

“You’re joking right?”

She looks at you.

Thor’s arm loosens around your waist, his hand finding a spot on your hip.

She doesn’t seem to have anything to say, but you have plenty.

“I guess your rudeness doesn’t stop at me, but apparently extends to even your lifelong friends.” You’re seething, chest burning, head getting fuzzier as the adrenaline from confronting her getting the better of your senses.

“Cherub…” Thor whispers, not to stop you, but with worry.

A realization overcomes his face as it softens, and he sees how much her refusal to be nice has hurt you.

“Just so you know, since the moment I met Loki he’s been nothing but kind to me. He’s been friendly and supportive and helpful and already the best brother-in-law I could ask for. I was seriously excited to meet you and get to know you because I’d heard a lot about your accomplishments but since I got here you’ve been nothing but abrasive, dismissive, and inappropriate with the way you act around Thor when you think I’m not watching.

“As far as I’m concerned, the only one that needs learn to put others before themselves at this table, is you. And if I could have it my way, I would ask you not to come to the wedding on Thursday but I know Thor wants you there so, as your Queen, I’m ordering you to come, whether you like it or not.”

The room is silent. Even Vostagg has frozen, mid-chew.

You get up, Thor’s hand stuck to your hip as if glued there, but he doesn’t stop you. Everyone else stands, even Hilde and Sif. Though she does it more slowly, chewing on the inside of her lip.

“I can’t eat anymore.” You huff. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

You make for the door but stop as you reach it, hand placed on the handle before you turn back towards the table and find Loki.

“For what it’s worth, anyone you choose would be lucky to have you.” With a final firm nod, you shove the doors open and stomp your way back to your room, taking the stairs as quickly as you can while hiking up your dress so that you don’t trip.

Even though your hands are shaking, your heart pounding, you feel much lighter now.

In your room, you strip the day away, dress left in a mess just inside the door. Your shoes just after. Stockings. Bra. Underwear at the bathroom doorway.

The water is already steaming hot when you walk into it, a sigh of relief hissing through your lips as you dip down into the water until your shoulders are submerged.

You’re not sure how long you steep there in the water—it could be seconds or hours—before you finally hear the bedroom door open.

“Y/N?” The voice pulls you from your empty space, that soundless pit in your mind where you go when you drift off into non-linear tangents of thought.

It’s the space where most of your stories come from. A space no one but you knows about.

“Leaving me breadcrumbs, cherub?” Thor asks, his voice lower, still out in the room. “This trail is intriguing.”

Half of your lip curls up in a smile, you keep your back to the bathroom door, intent on keep your mouth shut as long as you can so that you can hear what he really thinks about what you’ve just done in that dining hall.

“Dress. Stockings. Brassiere.” He clears his throat, and when he speaks again, his voice cracks. “Underwear.”

He’s in the bathroom doorway now, and you hear the hiss of all of your clothing fall back to the ground as he drops it at the sight of you.

“Hello. Might I join you?” He’s actually asking and will go away if you tell him he can’t.

Because you still don’t want to speak, you look over your shoulder at him and give him a gentle nod.

You keep watching him, staring at him as he reaches up and unhooks the straps on his armor. He moves to the long wooden slat bench along the wall and places it there. He follows it with his black shirt, then he sits and pulls off his shoes.

As he takes off each piece, he looks up at you, meeting your eyes and watches you for any give in your mood.

Whenever he’s not looking at you, you admire the bend and shift of his muscular torso. There’s a power in his body that you’re familiar with. Not strength. That’s not what you mean.

He’s got muscles, sure, and he can lift probably tons. You’ve seen the clips of him in fights around Earth.

What you’re thinking about is the power underneath all the appealing surface. He radiates it and it’s intoxicating. It makes you feel safe when he’s with you.

With his boots placed aside, he stands and unbuckles the leather belt around his waist. He opens the front of his pants and pushes them down.

No underwear.

You’re seriously tempted to smile at the fact that he’s been going commando all day long.  You resist.

He throws them behind him then sits on the edge of the pool before lowering himself into the heated water.

He sighs in comfort but doesn’t give himself time to relish in the feeling before he’s moving towards you, the sloshy water splashing his golden body.

You wrap your arms around yourself just as Thor wraps his around you too. He pulls you close, smooshing your breasts against his chest.

He dips down to kiss your bare shoulder, then your neck, side of your chin, then finally a small and incredibly irresistible peck to your lips that almost cracks you. You almost throw yourself on him.

Instead you pucker right back, kissing him because you can’t resist him completely.

He really does have you wrapped around his finger.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I have worried how you would handle yourself in this position of authority that you’re marrying into.” Thor admits, tracing the curve of your shoulder with his large fingers.

He dips down again, kissing it then nips at it, teeth grazing lightly to pull on the skin.

It makes you shiver.

“You should give me some orders too.” Thor mumbles, his voice thick with arousal.

You really wanna laugh. Instead you keep silent and after a few moments, he pulls back to look at your face. Neutral. Eyes observant. No sign as to what you might be feeling.

The atmosphere grows more serious. Even though he’s got you squeezed to him, when he meets your eyes, you can see the worry there.

“Why didn’t you say anything before if you were that upset about Sif?”

“I did say something.” You remind him. “And I’m sure Loki did too. And Hilde.”

“No,” Thor shakes his head. “All of you said that she was jealous and unwelcoming. You are the only one that could have told me that it was really bothering you.”

And he’s right. You hadn’t exactly acted like it bothered you except a passing wish that you could get to know her.

With a shrug you shake your head.

“I didn’t realize how much it was bothering me until tonight. She wasn’t being awful or anything. She just hasn’t said much to me.”

He’s silent for a bit, your eyes on the water by his elbow.

His hands find the sides of your face and gently he coaxes your gaze up to meet his own.

“I hate the thought of you suffering in silence.” He says, deep voice soothing the knots in your chest. “Promise you will tell me if anything or anyone hurts you. I will try my best to make it better.”

“You can’t fight my battles for me, Thor. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I can see that. But you don’t have to. I’d like to be useful if it’s possible. This might sound a little pathetic, but I’d very much like you to make me feel needed.” He pouts, and even though he’s playing with you, his words are real.

He doesn’t like being caught off guard. Not when it comes to things he should know. And by the looks of his face, the way that his playful pout turns into a real downturn to the corners of his lips, you fall under that category of things he should be aware of.

You nod, head barely moving underneath his heated hold.

He leans down to kiss you, just a loving peck before he wraps his arms around you to squish you against his body again and he tilts his head, urging your lips open with the tip of his tongue. He breathes in, a small moan pulled out of him as you swirl your tongue around his, tasting him. The honey in his ale still fresh.

He pulls back, eye still shut as he groans again. “Mmph, I could kiss you all day long and do nothing else.”

You know what he means. There’s something about these kisses, so charged. They feel amazing, toe curling.

Whatever chemistry the two of you have is all consuming and you don’t mind.

“Also, in case you think it went without my notice, I want to thank you for standing up for Loki.” Thor pushes your hair away from your face, leaning down to press another quick peck to your lips. “It means a lot to me that he has someone else on his side. After everything that’s happened, it’s hard for some people to see that he’s changed.”

“He’s been very nice to me. I didn’t like Sif talking to him like that. I know that I probably stepped on her toes. She’s known him longer than me, but the look on his face after she said what she said…” It’s making your blood boil all over again.

“Loki has done many things to warrant her mistrust, but her words were cruel. I’m very grateful you spoke on his behalf. I’m certain it meant a lot to Loki too.”

You untangle your arms from between your bodies, wrap them around him under his arms and lay your head against his chest.

“He’s my family now.” You sigh. “Both of you.”

It’s your new truth. You’re not alone anymore!

“I will fight for both of you if anyone hurts you.”

You feel it so fiercely that you squeeze him, and he actually groans at the gesture. You know that you can’t hurt him though, and he’s just humoring you.

He chuckles against your hair, kissing your head as he holds you back.

“I’m so glad you chose to come meet me.” Thor whispers, running his hand along the curve of your back.

“I’m so glad they forced me to come meet you.”

Both of you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

The planet is nearly decimated.

It’s a shell of what it once was, but dark still. The cold bites harshly.

The rough terrain is snow-covered. Ice grows from the ground into tall towers that rise hundreds of feet into the frigid air.

In a crater, full of crumbling structures that once stood tall and menacing, is the entrance to a cave. The darkness dips down and winds through the ice, unstable and shifting, with cracks along ground walls and ceiling.

Despite the bitter cold, a small green light begins to glow down in the darkest pit.

The cave suddenly stretches, a ginormous cavern hundreds of feet in Jotunheim’s depths.

Through the darkness paces a figure, small in stature but glowing an almost ethereal jade. The light pulsates, wrapped around a female form. Her body is perfection. The Venus made flesh.

Her long blonde tresses cascade along her back, a golden river flowing past her waist. On her head a smooth emerald helm with twin peaks rising up like horns on either side of her brow.

Her tunic, well worn in the exact same shade of green as her helm as is the rest of her outfit. Over a pair of leather pants, an armored soft strap skirt laces up along her hips, and tall boot with a helix design in line stop just above her knees.

Her bodice is laced at her front, leather ties tied tight to keep out the cold. Her strong yet slender shoulders are wrapped in a long green cape, gray bear’s fur lining the neck for warmth. It sweeps around her as she carves a line in the ice with her restless movements.

From the darkest corner of the large cavern comes a deep but weakened voice.

“Cease your pacing, Asgardian. Before I stop it for you.”

His words are followed by a wheezing breath, a cough, and a deep slow sigh.

The woman stops, crossing her arms across her chest as she stares into the dark.

“How much longer must we wait? I can feel him slipping away from me. His eyes have wandered, yet again.” She drops one arm, slapping at her cloak in frustration.

“Your obsession with Odin’s whelp escapes my understanding.” The deep voice breathes in again, wheezes as he breathes out. “Remember my intent, witch. I will kill the God of Thunder.”

“Yes, I heard you the first million times you told me. I do not need the constant reminder. Thor will die.” She sighs, turning to look towards the entrance of the cavern, in search for the handsome golden face that rests in her heart. “You can kill him, as long as he dies loving me and only me. Thor is mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s your fifth time zoning out, your mouth slightly open as you stare at the reflection in your new vanity shoved into Thor’s spacious room.

“Your Highness?” Estrid nudges you, leaning forward to try and catch your attention.

“Hm?” You jump, turning to look at her with wide eyes.

She smiles at you kindly, knowing the source of your distraction. It isn’t hard to guess.

“What color rose shall we put in your hair?”

“Um…” You look down at your wedding dress, carefully spread out around you and held in place by your new set of intricate silver armor. It was cold when they’d put it on you, the metal touching your bare shoulders, but it’s padded so that it doesn’t hurt.

The design is very practical. It’s real armor that you’re expected to wear for official military events or if there is an actual attack on the palace. You’re going to be a warrior people’s Queen and a warrior husband’s wife. The armor is made for you to use.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t also beautiful.

Thor made very specific requests to its pieces. Along the sides around your stomach is a delicate floral design. The shoulder pieces, not to be worn today because it makes you look gentler and more refined, are also decorated along its edges with vines of smaller flowers and at one outer corner of each piece is a blooming rose with its petals spread wide.

Along your wrists and forearms you wear bracers, just as beautifully decorated and there to help hold your sleeves down.

“Thor’s armor will be black?” You check, trying to remember what he’s supposed to wear.

“Actually, Your Highness, his Majesty’s armor will be silver, to match your own. With gold highlights along his breast plate. His cape will still be red. That is his best color.” She smiles, her hand resting by the collection of roses in a wooden box that had been filled this morning from the gardens.

“Then we’ll go with the red rose. The one in full bloom, and this lighter one, in half bloom.” You touch each one gently, caressing the velvety petals in admiration of their pretty color.

“An excellent choice, Your Highness.” Estrid quickly goes to attaching them, adjusting your hair on the top of your head and pinning them into place.

“Are you almost ready?” Hilde’s voice filters in, the door now wide open as she stands there staring in at you.

Her eyes are bright, her mouth open in awe.

“Does it look bad?” You worry, reaching up to touch your hair then reaching down to fuss with the armor.

“You look…” Hilde stops, at a loss.

“Beautiful.” David provides, a calm smile stretched across his lips.

“You made it!” You gasp, getting to your feet just as Estrid finishes with the flowers and rush to him.

He hugs you, laughing as you squeeze him tight.

“Ouch,” he says, teasing you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You pull away and he laughs a bit more loudly. “I thought you weren’t going to make it back in time. Where did you go?”

“I had a favor to do for your husband to be.” David explains, then pushes you back so that he can take a better look at you. “You are really, absolutely beautiful.”

That makes you feel better. More confident.

“He’s so right.” Hilde agrees, nodding with what looks like joy in her eyes.

“Thanks, Hilde. David? You are going to walk me down the aisle, right?”

David’s face goes blank. He looks to Hilde and then to Estrid before he meets your eyes again.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you!” You laugh, giving his arms a squeeze. “David, you’re the closest thing I have to family in my life. You’ve been a real father to me through all of this and everything before. Of course, I want you to walk me down the aisle.”

David’s eyes slowly grow misty, his smile growing wide by the moment before he pulls you back into a gentle hug.

“It would be my honor.” David whispers just for you.

“Ooh, none of that.” Hilde interrupts, reaching out to pull the two of you apart. “No crying, you’ll ruin your makeup and Estrid will have to do it again.”

You all laugh. Sweet chuckles of impending excitement as the hour that will change your life grows closer.

You seriously cannot believe that in less than two hours, you’ll be married. More importantly, you’ll be the queen of an entire people.

Most of them have been so welcoming. They’ve eaten up any information they could get on you and you’ve been so grateful for their kindness.

“Hey guys? Anyone here?” A soft lilting voice flitters in from the doorway and you turn to see who posses such a sweet sounding tone.

What you find, you aren’t expecting.

Completely contrary to the small and gentle voice stands what looks like a large collection of massive rocks piled up in the shape of a burly man.

There is a definition at the end of its arms of hands, feet without shoes at the ends of its legs. And at the center of the large mass that makes up its head is a kind looking face. Pure eyes. And he’s got it all topped with a slick black suit and a light blue tie.

He lifts his massive hand and waves it. It’s a minute movement as he stands up straighter with all eyes in the room on him.

“You’re a Kronan.” You realize, pointing at him rudely.

“Yeah, my name is Korg. Thor’s best friend and best man. Even though I’m not really his best man, since there is no best man in Asgardian weddings which is a shame since I would probably most definitely have been his choice. After Loki of course. That’s his brother. And probably Heimdall. His other best friend. And the Warriors Three. But definitely before Miek.”

You chuckle once, a slightly surprised and nervous laugh before you reach out towards him to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Korg. Thor was telling me about you yesterday. I’m Y/N. I’m so glad we can finally meet.” You wait patiently as his face goes slightly slack for a moment then he eagerly reaches out to take your tiny hand in his huge one.

He barely closes it around your own but shakes it with enthusiasm.

“Thor said you were a pretty lady. He failed to tell me about how nice you are. You’ll have to come over some time. To my house? We can play some Fortnite. I’ll even let you take the mythic.” He spouts, and you laugh again, just once.

“Oh. Okay. That’s so nice of you.”

He takes his hand back and Hilde finally moves to stand beside you.

“Did you just come to meet Her Highness? Or do you have a message from Thor?”

“Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. Thank you, Valkyrie. The car is here and ready to take you on the drive through the city?”

“Drive through the city?” You turn your confusion to Hilde and she waves to Estrid for your cloak who then rushes away to fetch it.

“It’s a quick procession through the main roads. Since the city temple hasn’t been built, this will be the only way for the people to see you. Normally they would come to the temple to be witness to the ceremony.” She explains.

“So, that’s why we’re having the wedding and the recep-the feast in the throne room.” You realize, nodding as Estrid lays your cloak over your shoulders then clips the thick red cape around you.

“That’s right.” Hilde smiles. “Is Thor already down there?”

“Yep. He said to ask you to be quick.” Korg nods.

“Why?” You wonder, turning that twist of confusion back to him.

“Uh, he said he’d like to have his wife already and be on his honeymoon. Then he said some other things that I don’t feel comfortable repeating about curves and skin, which I don’t have, by the way and I find it a little cruel of him to mention how good it tastes, especially that of his pretty lady. Felt a bit like bragging to me. Kind of rude, to be honest.”

“Thank you, Korg!” Hilde interrupts as you press your hands to your cheeks and feel them burn.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You wheeze.

“Why don’t you head down and let him know we’re on our way? Tell Armod to prep the heater. It’s cold today.”

You know she’s only assuming for your benefit. She doesn’t feel the bite of the cold here like you do.

Korg lumbers off without another word while you turn to David.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” You worry, for some reason desperate to make sure he’s here to walk you down the aisle.

Now that you have that image in your head, you don’t want to let it go.

You hadn’t thought about having a husband since you were a little girl but even then, you’d imagined a father walking you down the aisle. You’d never thought you would get the chance. And you have it now.

“Of course.” David puts his phone down and reaches out to take hold of your elbow. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

The next hour is a rush of movement. Gentle pushing and tugging and guiding from Hilde, Loki, and finally Heimdall and Thor as they settle you into a large levitating carriage. It’s not Earth tech, with the clear curves and colors of Asgardian design.

It’s open, so you understand the need for the cloak now. Armod is sitting at the front of this little ship, hands on a weird sort of lever that is supposed to make up the steering wheel?

The whole thing reminds you a little of the speeders in Star Wars.

“What is this?” You ask in wonder, looking underneath the vehicle as if you might see how it works.

“This is a Skiff. Modified to comply with Earth regulations. Normally the steering mechanism would be at the back of the ship.” Heimdall informs you, moving to touch a small panel on the side which pulls a small step out towards you. “Your Highness?”

You take his hand, and he helps you up, Thor following shortly behind him.

He sits beside you, still not having said a word.

As you turn to look at him, admiring him from his booted toes to his silver winged helm, you realize that he’s staring at you.

“What?” You gasp, reaching down to touch the fabric of your cloak and the bottom edge of your armor.

Does it look weird? You in armor is not a look you’d ever thought you’d be rocking.

The heat of Thor’s hand traces along the bottom seam of your armor on your back. Fingers tickling the curve of your bottom before he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close with gentle strength.

“You’re the most beautiful creature in all of the nine realms, and beyond.” He gushes, and you laugh nervously.

Looking away from him because your neck, ears, and face are burning up and you can’t believe such a sappy grouping of words just came out of his stupid handsome mouth.

You feel his lips pressed to your temple, then cheek. You turn to look at him, wondering about what expression he’s wearing but instead he’s kissing you, eye shut, completely lost in the affection.

When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours. Breathing a little hard as you yourself shiver.

“I love you.” He whispers, so soft and quiet only you can hear him.

“Thor…” You breathe, reaching up to hold his hand as he places it on your cheek.

“You don’t have to say it back. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same. I just want you to know that this is it for me. I didn’t expect to feel this way by today but now that I do, I’m so grateful for you and I promise to do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His confession leaves you weeping, eyes flooded with tears that streak down along your cheeks.

“Thor…” You gasp, pulling him down to kiss him again, just one quick kiss so that you can free your mouth up to speak. “I love you, too. I didn’t know that I could feel this way so quickly. But I do. I love you.”

Thor smiles, the brightness in his face is radiant and you’d swear he is literally glowing.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, a laugh in his voice as he reaches into his own cloak to pull out a sleek black handkerchief.

He pulls it up to your cheeks and gently wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“Because you’re saying all these stupid sweet things that I want to hear and I’m so fucking happy, alright?” You sob just once, reaching out to push against his chest but he catches your arm and pulls you into a hug as he chuckles.

The Skiff begins to move, and you and Thor pull apart when the cheers begin.

You’re still trying to catch up in your mind to the mass of people waving and cheering from the sides of the main street through the city. There are endless flashes from human reporters who came to take pictures. In no time at all, the Skiff is pulling up to the front of the palace.

David is waiting for you and he frowns at the tear stains on your cheeks but a quick look at Thor and his dip to kiss your lips wipes all worries from his mind.

“See you in there, cherub.” Thor calls to you, leaving you just outside the doors of the throne room.

Estrid meets you there and quickly goes to work on fixing your face.

“It’s okay.” You squirm, trying to keep Thor in view but the doors close and all you get to see is the long table on the right side of the room with two large chairs meant for you and Thor during the feast and an array of smaller tables on the opposite side of the room.

Along the left side wall, at the very back are a group of men and women, all wearing stiff black suits. The ambassadors?

“They were happy tears.” You continue to resist, eyes lingering on the scary government group.

“Hilde will tear my hide, Your Highness. Please.” She begs and you stay still for her even though you doubt that Hilde would ever hurt anyone like she suggests.

“Are you nervous?” David asks, reaching to straighten your hair.

“No.” You admit, shaking your head only when Estrid is done with your face.

Instead her hands are on the clasp of your cloak as she peels it off of you and throws it over her arm and then moves around you to straighten your dress.

“I’m so ready to be his wife, David.” You sigh, the feeling of madness on the edges of your mind. “Is that weird? It doesn’t feel weird.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not weird, if it’s really how you feel. I only want you to be happy.”

“He makes me happy. Really. I was worried about Jane in the beginning and scared about loving him if he didn’t love me back. But he’s more invested in us than I thought he would ever be. He’s being real, I think. It feels real. When he tells me he loves me, it doesn’t sound like a lie.”

David watches you, then taps Estrid on the shoulder. “Thank you, I think she’s ready. Tell them we’ll be right in.”

Estrid gives you a curtsy and disappears through the doors.

You steal a look and spot Thor rolling back and forth on his feet in front of the throne as Loki talks in his ear beside him.

He looks towards you and he smiles, stopping his nervous movement as he locks eyes with you.

Your heart stutters. The doors close again.

“Y/N…I want you to be vigilant with your emotions. You say that his declarations don’t sound like lies and they might not be. But lies like that never sound like lies.”

Your heart sinks a little, your mind racing with every moment that Thor has been sweet with you.

“It’s real, David.” You protest.

“Yes.” He nods, taking your hands in his. “After watching the two of you together, I believe both your emotions are real. Just as you say. I only want you to guard your heart. I want you to protect yourself.

“Marriage is not easy. I have only my own experience to speak from, but there were many obstacles that I did not expect. Laura and I hurt each other many times.” David explains.

“But you and Laura were together until the end. You were both so in love.” You hadn’t known his wife long.

She’d passed only a year after you having known her but every time you’d seen them, they’d been the picture of romantic love and true friendship.

“We were.” He nods, “But it wasn’t always easy. She and I both made many mistakes. Small ones and mistakes that challenged the very core of our relationship. Mistakes that almost tore us apart.

“And this is your first relationship. The first time you’ve ever given yourself over to someone like this. I’m worried for you. That’s all.”

“And that’s why I love you. You’ve been here for me when I’ve needed you most. I will be careful but I want to embrace what I’m feeling.”

“And that’s all I want too. Just your caution. Protect your heart, Y/N. No one else will protect it better than you.”

Really, you understand his worries. This is such a risk not only for you but for Thor too. The two of you hardly know each other.

Your chemistry is through the roof, but there is so much about who you two are as people that you still have to learn. Your lives as King and Queen will also play a part in how your marriage will come together.

Will you have time for each other? Time to make an heir? Time to spend time with whatever family you’re able to make?

“I can’t promise you that I’ll guard my heart well.” You shake your head but squeeze his hands tighter. “I can only promise that I’ll be true to how I feel. If something starts to go wrong, I’ll be open about it. With Thor and with anyone there to support us.”

Because let’s face it, you’ve known for a while that you’re absolutely fucked when it comes to Thor.

You’re head over heels and grateful that he is too. At least your marriage will begin with love even if in time, that fades. You’ll always have the memories you’re making now.

“I suppose this is the apprehension every father feels when his daughter marries. I’ll have to suck it up. But just know, that if you ever need a place to go, if something should be terrible enough that you need to leave, my home will always be open to you as sanctuary.

“I will protect you, as best I can when the time comes.” He pulls you to him, hugging you tightly.

“If,” you correct him. “If the time comes.”

Because you’re certain in your bones that Thor loves you and you love him, and the only thing that could tear that love apart is each other and you can’t see either of you making such a stupid mistake.

The large wooden doors open. David pulls back and takes your hand, wrapping it around his elbow. He lets you take a breath before he takes that first step towards the throne where Thor stands waiting, beaming with joy as his future wife approaches.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 7

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,480

Warnings: none

A/N: This is long overdue, sorry - hopefully it’s worth it. It’s also incredibly long... idek anymore. I want to thank you all for your patience and support. It means a lot to me.

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

You grumbled into your pillow when you heard your phone buzz on the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, you lifted your phone and squinted to read the neon numbers showing on the screen.

7:12 a.m.

You had an email notification, nothing important, but it somehow managed to come through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ feature. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so you got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen.  

A smile curled up your lips when you saw the leftovers from your made-up holiday. There were a few cookies and muffins in a plate, a large bowl of cereals, and two dirty milkshake glasses on the counter.

It had been a fun and relaxing couple of days. You ate, talked, played board games, and watched movies in your fanciest loungewear attire. Bucky sought your touch more than usual and it left you a little confused. Every time he touched you, the line between feelings of friendship and feelings of love became blurred.

Bucky was an early riser, always up before you, dressed in his usual khakis and long sleeved Henley shirts with his hair slightly tousled. He looked effortlessly sexy and always had a warm smile for you even though you looked like a hot mess in your mismatched pyjamas, staggering into the kitchen, blindly following the smell of food cooking on the stove.

Today, the kitchen was silent. Bucky was probably still asleep, so you decided to cook breakfast. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d catch him in his night clothes.

Wasting no time, you made a beeline for the coffee machine. You filled the water tank and measured fresh grounds into the filter, but your task was interrupted when you heard groans coming from somewhere nearby. You soon figured out that the sounds were coming from the living room.

Curious, you silently made your way toward the sound. The shades were up, and you could see the midnight blue sky fading into pastel hues of yellow and pink with the approaching dawn. Under any other circumstances, you would have been completely enraptured by its beauty, but something else caught your attention.

Bucky was standing upside down with his head on a yoga mat. His eyes were closed and his features were set in an expression of serious concentration. You half hid behind the wall and observed him.

You were impressed, his headstand was perfectly vertical and he was doing it without hand support, meaning that he was supporting his entire weight on his neck. He slowly lowered one toe back down, then the other, before he rested his forearm on the mat and lifted his butt toward the ceiling, his body forming a perfect inverted V.

“You’re up already,” he asked, sitting back on his haunches. “I can hear you breathing behind that wall.”

Busted...

You peeked out into the living room and cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but that was sooo impressive.” You walked into the room and perched yourself on the arm of the sofa, facing Bucky who was kneeling at your feet. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, his cheeks red from exertion and bashfulness. “Practice. Yoga’s good for building strength.”

He looked up at you with a boyish smile, his hair damp with perspiration. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, rolling too close to his eyes and making him squint.

His pants left little to the imagination, the fabric stretched across his powerful thighs, and his sleeveless shirt clung to his drenched chest, outlining his muscles. Your eyes darted to his left shoulder where his stump was visible.

Despite living with him for over two months, you had never seen him in one of those sleeveless shirts before, though you couldn’t blame him since it was the middle of winter and you hadn’t been wearing any either. It was warm inside the apartment but not enough to walk around bare-armed.

“It’s easier to do yoga when the sleeve isn’t slapping me in the face every five seconds,” Bucky said, looking at his stump. “But I can cover it up if you prefer.”

“No! Of course not,” you rushed to say. “I’m sorry. That was really rude.”

“You were just looking, it’s only natural,” he said. “People are curious. Staring... well, staring is different.” His frown smoothed away and he turned to you with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

You smiled down at him. “Starving.”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll start breakfast.”

“Actually, I was about to start cooking before I got distracted.” Bucky looked away, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “But I think we have plenty of food left over from last night.”

“We’re not eating cookies for breakfast,” he said. “We’ll save them for later. Right now we need something healthy.” He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet and ran upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You shook your head at his antics and returned to the kitchen to finish making coffee. After all he’d done for you, it was the least you could do. You knew Bucky liked cooking –and he was damn good at it- but sometimes you wondered if this was a fair arrangement.

He had given you a place to stay, money, food to eat, your own artist’s studio, and you had given him... nothing. Admittedly, you knew that your presence calmed him, comforted him. You gave him the emotional support he desperately needed and it was important, but he could also have adopted a pet.

Too tired for coffee or tea, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, hoping it would wake you up. It worked but your self-deprecating thoughts were still playing havoc in your mind.

You were fixing Bucky’s coffee when he came back downstairs after his shower, and you were pleasantly surprised to find him wearing a clean sleeveless shirt. You met his eyes and found that he was watching you intently. You offered him a smile and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Looking good, James.”

He looked down at his feet with a bashful smile as he crossed the room slowly. You observed him in silence while he prepared breakfast for the two of you. It was a simple breakfast bowl with yogurt, granola, fresh fruits and honey but he somehow made it look like a gourmet dish.

“There you go, angel,” he said, setting your bowl in front of you. “What are you going to do today?”

You took a slice of kiwi and dipped in yogurt. “I think I’m going to paint. You?”

Bucky licked his spoon and you stared at it longingly before you quickly averted your eyes. No, you couldn’t be jealous of a goddamn spoon. Catch yourself on.

“I have an idea for a new book,” he said, running his tongue along his teeth to clean them before he spoke again. “I had a meeting with my agent last week. It went well, my old publisher really wants to work with me again. I’m signing my contract this afternoon.”

“Bucky!” you squealed after swallowing your mouthful of yogurt a little too fast. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” he said, staring into nothing with wide eyes. “I’m nervous, scared and excited at the same time. It’s strange, y’know, all these feelings mixed together. It’s a bit overwhelming and I haven’t even started yet.”

“Don’t think too much,” you said. “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling.

You scraped your spoon around the bowl and licked it clean. “What’s it about? Is it a novel? Can I be in it?”

Bucky chuckled to himself and you figured that every single writer had friends who begged them to appear in their books. You couldn’t help it, the idea of living forever as ink on a page was too tempting.

“It’s not a novel,” he said. “It’s the third instalment of my series. The style is a little hard to explain but this is what I like to say: self-help book meets Bridget Jones’ Diary.”

“I tried to look you up but I couldn’t find anything written by a James Barnes or a Bucky Barnes.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you a fraud? Or are you using a pen name?”

He pretended to think about it. “I’m a fraud.”

“I knew it,” you mock-sighed.

Bucky took your bowl and placed it in the sink along with his. When he started cleaning them, you joined him and took a dish towel.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he spoke after a moment.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

You knew he wasn’t going to tell you what his pen name was, not now at least. His books were a reflection of his struggles, his success, and his fears, and you could understand why he preferred to keep you in the dark for now.

The people who read his books didn’t know him, they were just anonymous faces in a crowd but you were real. You were his friend, his new friend, and your opinion mattered.

“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve published my last book. My agent said that people haven’t forgotten about me but I still have to,” he made air quotes with his fingers, “’show my face’, just to remind everyone that I’m still writing.” He sighed.

“There’s a charity event next month at the museum of Natural History,” he continued. “It’s a huge event, a lot of important people will be there, including some of the most famous gallerists and curators in the country. You’re allowed to say no but,” he paused and turned to look at you, “do you want to come with me?”

You pressed your lips together while you mulled this over. There was no doubt in your mind that it was a great opportunity, one that you would have never had without Bucky, and you knew you had to say yes. But this was your least favourite part of being an artist.

You didn’t know how to sell yourself and you always felt like an arrogant asshat when you spoke about your paintings, even though you had every right to be proud of your work.

You had managed to persuade yourself that this new life would last forever. Eat, laugh, paint, repeat forever. But it wasn’t real. You had to put yourself out there, even if it made you uncomfortable because painting was only half your job.

Something else bothered you. You didn’t want to be the poor, struggling artist who took advantage of a charity event to make herself known. It seemed wrong and hypocritical.

You voiced your concerns to Bucky who looked at you with a pained expression.

“Yes, it’s a fundraiser but I can assure you that everyone at the party will be talking business and exchanging business cards,” he said. “And they’ll compensate with a huge donation to clear their guilty conscience. Is it false philanthropy? Absolutely, and I’m ashamed to say I’m one of them. You’re not taking advantage of a good cause, we are.”

“You’re nothing like them,” you said. “You’re kind and selfless, you’re a good person.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, angel,” he said with a tight smile.

When you opened your mouth to protest, he leaned forward and cupped the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, ending the conversation. He had never done that before and you froze, feeling equal parts confused, incredulous and appreciated.

He pulled back and wiped down the sink with the sponge, acting like kissing you so sweetly was something completely normal, like he was unbothered. Meanwhile you just stood there wondering if you would ever be able to breathe normally again.

You pressed your lips together hard and tried to gather your thoughts but your mind was reeling. You were about to leave the room when your eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen counter.

The first letter was a cheesy view of the Tower Bridge, the words ‘Greetings from London’ written in bold cursive letters across the postcard.

You only knew one person who still sent postcards.

Wanda.

“What’s this?” you asked, nodding toward the stack of mail.

Confused, Bucky looked to you then followed your line of sight and saw the mail. “Oh, Natasha dropped these off last night. She wanted to see you but you were already asleep.”

You nodded distractedly while you picked up the postcard. The sight of it filled you with anxiety. Your sister didn’t’ send these postcards often, but every time you received one it reminded you that things were different now. Gone was the happy and supportive family you used to cherish.  

Your breath caught in your throat as you read Wanda’s hastily written words.

I’m coming home.

She was coming home. A wave of nausea ran through you and your breathing came shallow and fast.

“Wow, wow, wow.” You felt Bucky’s hand at our waist, steering you toward a chair, and you realized your legs were giving way under you. “Deep breaths, angel. Look at me. There you go!”

“Sorry,” you said. “See what happens when you don’t let me eat cookies for breakfast?”

Bucky smiled at your poor attempt at humour. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You debated telling him but you weren’t sure how to voice your concerns so you handed him the postcard instead. You had told Bucky about Wanda. She had disappeared after Pietro’s death, sending postcards from time to time as proof that she was still alive and well.

“Your sister is coming home.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen her for six years. She doesn’t know our mom has Alzheimer, she doesn’t know I sold our old childhood home. She keeps sending those postcards there. I gave the new owners Natasha’s address in case they still receive our mail. They’re very nice.” You let out a humourless laugh. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I sold our house, and they could have taken advantage of me but they didn’t. I guess it’s not every day you buy a family house from a 24 year old girl. It probably screams tragic backstory, uh?”

“You did this on your own?”

“Yup.”

Bucky put his hand on your knee and gave you a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

You looked down at his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above your knee. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy.” You paused, then raised your head to look at him. “Living with you makes my life so much easier. I live in my own little bubble where I don’t have to be an adult. I feel like I can finally breathe. And I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me and all you continue to do.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “We help each other. We’re good together.”

“Yes, of course,” you said with a smile. “But we both know it’ll have to end one day. It has to, one way or another. I want to be more independent, start my career and support my family. I don’t want to rely on others anymore. I want to rely on myself.”

“But there’s no rush, angel.”

“I know, but nothing’s gonna change if I stay in my little bubble. I have to do things that make me uncomfortable.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’ll come with you to the fundraiser.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but a smile broke across his face. “That’s great! But what about your sister?”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. She’ll probably go to our old house, realize it’s not ours anymore. If she’s lucky they’ll give her Natasha’s address. I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions but she can’t show up six years later and act like our bond is still intact. I’m not at her beck and call. I’m only responsible for myself and, Bucky, I’m so tired of trying to please everyone. I deserve to live my best life, goddammit.”

“I am so happy to hear you say that,” Bucky said, his smile blinding. “Celebratory cookie?”

“Yes! Two cookies, please,” you replied, out of breath. “I’m slightly freaking out.”

You spent the next couple of weeks planning for the event; painting, taking pictures of your work, posting them on Instagram, searching for gallerists and curators you wanted to work with and cross-checking the attendees.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if Wanda was already in New York and if she was looking for you.

“Check this out!” you exclaimed, shoving a business card in Natasha’s face before you pushed past her to get into her apartment. “It’s official, I’m an artist.”

She laughed as she closed the door, her eyes on the card. “Hi, it’s nice to see you, too,” she deadpanned.

“Sorry, hi.”

“Well, looks like you’re all set. When’s the party?”

“Next week,” you replied, taking a seat on you former bed, her sofa. “I’m a little nervous, but also excited. I don’t know, it’s a strange feeling.”

Natasha pinned your business card onto the fridge using a magnet before she opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of orange juice. She took two glasses from the cupboard and joined you on the sofa.

“But, yeah, I’m ready. I have over two hundred business cards, I know who I want to work with, and I even bought an external battery pack just in case.”

“And what are you going to wear?” Natasha asked before taking a sip of orange juice. You looked at her with wide eyes, panic written all over your face. “You forgot to buy a dress,” she concluded out loud. “Why am I not surprised?”

“With everything going on, I completely forgot I had to... wear clothes.”

“I’m sure James wouldn’t mind seeing you in your birthday suit.” She laughed when you practically shoved her off the sofa. “Come on, I’ll help you look semi-decent.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to go shopping right now. Plus, I blew all my money on business cards.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s freezing outside, I’m not leaving my apartment,” she replied, reaching for her laptop. “You’re going to rent it.”

“Ew,” you made a face.

You remembered the formal wear store where you had rented your prom dress. The place smelled like moth balls and sweat, and the dress had given you a rash. Not a great memory.

“Trust me, I know this is your first but I’m a seasoned veteran. I’ve been to dozens of fundraisers, and I had to wear dozens of designer dresses. Do you even know how much a Saint Laurent evening gown cost? You can’t wear the same dress twice. That’s a big no-no. And it’s not just the dress. You need a clutch, a pair of shoes, jewelry, a coat. You have to rent them.”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

She opened up her web browser and typed in the website address for the dress rental. As she entered your size and budget, it was obvious that she knew her way around the website and you had to admit that it was a lot easier than traditional shopping.

You looked at the collection of dresses, not entirely convinced, when you found it. You instantly knew it was the right one.

You stared longingly at the beautiful wine-red dress, made entirely of velvet. The bodice was cut on the bias, the fabric draping itself elegantly to contour the shape of the model’s upper body. The skirt was long and flowing, and the waist was cinched in with a thin black belt.

You clicked on the second picture and Natasha let out a strangled gasp. The open back was draped at the waist and weighted with a crystal on a golden chain.

The dress gave off 1930s vibes, it was elegant and refined but the back was daring and sexy. It was exactly what you needed. You paired it with a black wool cape, and Natasha offered to let you borrow a pair of shoes, jewellery and a bag.

The dress and coat arrived the next day. The woman who delivered them was kind and polite, she stayed in the kitchen while you tried on the dress. Once you gave the all-clear, she handed you your receipt.

The dress was yours for an entire week.

On the day of the gala, you were a nervous, sweaty mess. Natasha’s clutch was on your nightstand, filled to the brim with business cards. Your hair and makeup were already done. You sat on your bed in your underwear, staring at the dress hanging in your closet.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

You were adjusting the fabric around your cleavage, making sure everything flowed nicely, when you heard Bucky shouting from the kitchen.

“The car will be there in fifteen minutes.”

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands down the sides of your dress, the tickling caress of the velvet calming you almost instantly. You reached for the handle, your heart hammering in your chest, and opened the door.

Bucky was standing at the kitchen island, looking down at his phone. He looked up when he heard the sound of your door opening.

“Hey, are you-” The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he froze. He stood there, staring at you, his eyes roaming your body in a manner that could only be called amazement. “You look-” He shook his head as if he couldn’t find the right word.

You looked down at yourself, grinning. After weeks of seeing you in your big woolly jumpers, pyjamas and painting overalls, you could understand why this was a shock. It was one to you as well.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“Thank you.” He stood a little straighter when he noticed you were checking him out. He wore a dark blue suit with black lapels, a white shirt and a black velvet bow tie. You matched. “You look like a real heartthrob in that suit.”

He laughed and looked away, embarrassed. It was your favourite look on him; when he couldn’t maintain eye contact and his cheeks were slightly red and his nose crunched up a little.

“You’re wearing your prosthetic,” you said, noticing the stiff arm and fake hand.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking at his left arm. “This thing itches like hell, but I don’t blend well in a crowd when I’m not wearing my prosthetic. These people know me, they’ll be looking for me. Let’s not make it too easy for them.”

He finished his sentence with a wink and your entire body threatened to spontaneously combust. Do people still wink? Apparently. You walked over to him and briefly stroked his arm before you walked past him to the bathroom.

It gave him a great view of your bare back and the little crystal nestled just above the small of your back. You didn’t see his reaction but you heard his sharp intake of breath.

You left the bathroom door open while you rummaged through your makeup bag, relief flowing through you when your fingers brushed against your favourite lipstick.

You straightened up and looked at yourself in the mirror. Bucky was leaning against the bathroom door frame, observing you. You uncapped the lipstick and brought it to your lips, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost ready.”

“I’m not worried,” Bucky replied with a mischievous smile. “Please, carry on.”

You rolled your eyes at his sudden smug expression, trying to look unbothered, but you could feel his eyes on you and you willed your hands to stop shaking. Today was not the day to look like Miranda Sings.

“What’s it called?” Bucky asked from the threshold, spellbound.

“No idea, the label has faded,” you said, rubbing your lips together to smudge your lipstick. “It has probably expired by now, my mom gave it to me when I was a kid.” You blotted your lips and tossed the balled tissue into the wastebasket. “She called it ‘Carter Red’.”

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips. “When we were kids, we used to watch her apply her lipstick. We thought she was the most sophisticated woman in the world. When she was done, she’d turn to us and ask ‘Who wants red lips?’ Then we’d leave the house in our matching red lips.”

Bucky entered the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Did your brothers wear red lipstick too?” he asked with a grin.

You laughed. “Pietro did. Scott was more into nail polish.”  

“Do you think I can pull it off?”

You turned to him with a wicked grin and waved your lipstick in his direction. He stood when you took a step closer to him. He seemed to enjoy the playful glint dancing in your eyes. You beckoned him closer like some kind of old witch.

“I’m sure you’d look real cute with lipstick all over your face,” you said, taunting him with your tube of lipstick.

Something in his expression changed, darkened, making you feel hot and cold at the same time. His eyes travelled down your face to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it.

It was your turn to freeze. You parted your lips to speak but nothing came out, you just blinked hard and stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain what that meant. But he never did, and you took a step back.

Did he just...? Did he just try to kiss you? No! No, that’s silly. Why would he want to kiss you? He was just being playful and you simply projected your own desires onto him.

He took a step back too and gave an imperceptible nod. “The car should be here any minute,” he said, smiling. It was a tight smile and you didn’t like it at all. “I’ll let you get ready.”

After he closed the door behind him, you dumped your lipstick back into your makeup bag and took a long look at yourself in the mirror. You looked deflated, miserable. You sighed... the night was off to a great start.

Bucky waited for you while you finished getting ready. You picked up your clutch, slid your feet into a pair of high-heel shoes, and struggled with your cape until Bucky came to your rescue. To your surprise, his smile was genuine again, and it made your heart soar. Maybe you had just misread the situation and he wasn’t upset, offended –or whatever that tight smile was.

The heels were higher than you were used to, but Bucky gave you an arm to hang onto. The sky was already dark when you arrived at the Museum of Natural History. You walked up the stairs and left your coats in the coat-check room before you took a look around the room.

Hundreds of people were milling around the hall, a glass in their hand as they weaved between the jaw-dropping dinosaur skeletons that were on display. You kept your arm linked through Bucky’s and tried not to stare at anyone.  

“Be careful,” Bucky whispered in your ear, making you perk up. “Someone once told me that the exhibits come to life after the sun sets.”

“Remind me to stay away from the Biodiversity Hall,” you chuckled. Then you spotted one of the curators you wanted to work with, you let go of Bucky’s arm and squared your shoulders. “Showtime. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, angel.”

“God, I’m sweating. Is it noticeable?”

Bucky smiled at you. “No, you look perfect.”

You gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I hope I won’t make a fool of myself. I hate small talk.”

As soon as you were gone, someone took your place by Bucky’s side. You grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and made your way over to the curator. You didn’t drink alcohol but the glass made you look like you were part of their little group.

It went horribly wrong; you stuttered when you said your name and everything went downhill after that. While you were talking, he subtly looked around to see if he could find a more interesting person to talk to, which made you stutter even more. Then as you opened your clutch and fished out a card, several others fell at your feet in slow motion.

Between the dress, the glass and the shoes, it was practically impossible to bend over. The curator left and you stood there alone.

“Let me help you,” one of the waiters said. He gathered up your business cards and handed them to you.

You sheepishly took the cards and shoved them back in your purse. “Thanks. Can you take this? I’m not going to drink it.”

“Would you like something else to drink?” he asked as he took your glass of champagne.

“No, thank you. I... I think I’m going to go find my friend.”

You smiled politely at the young man but he had a strange look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“I saw you with Mr. Thomas,” he finally said. “I’m not supposed to talk to the guests but can you tell him I love his work.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Grant Thomas,” the waiter pressed on. “The writer. I saw you two together.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “He only has one arm.”

Oh...

Grant Thomas was Bucky’s pen name.  

Your face broke out into a huge smile and you started giggling to yourself. The waiter recoiled a bit, confused and a little freaked out. You scanned the room for Bucky.

“Of course, I’ll tell him,” you told the waiter. “He’ll be very pleased to hear it.”

You went in search of Bucky, wobbling around in your high heels, a permanent smile on your face. After walking around for a few minutes, you felt more stable and in control, even going so far as to power walk from room to room.

You found him in the Hall of Ocean Life, entertaining a small group of people. You walked over to him, your heels clicking like typewriter keys. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation as you approached.

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely,” a woman cooed, a hand over her heart. “Who was your inspiration for your new book, Grant?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly when he saw you. You gave him a small wave and he held out his hand in your direction. He introduced you to the group, and while it was strange to hear him say your name, you kept a straight face.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you, Grant,” you told him, emphasizing his pen name. “I should have known I'd find you in good company.”

“Oh, she’s the painter,” the woman said. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind me saying this but-” she extended her arms in your direction “wow!”

The woman next to her looked half amused, half exasperated. “It means you look beautiful in that dress.”

“Oh, she knows what it means, Sylvia.” The ‘oh’ woman swatted Bucky’s fake arm. “Grant, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Bucky looked at you with a fond smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Oh, my heart is about to explode,” the ‘oh’ woman squealed before enthusiastically waving to someone behind Bucky. “Sylvia, darling, take her contact details. We need new blood at the gallery. Please, excuse me, I haven’t seen Michael in ages,” she said, stretching out the last word.

She was gone before you could comprehend what was happening. Her laughter echoed through the room. Oh, I hadn’t seen the back of that dress! Sweet baby Jesus!

You found her whimsical and quite intense but if you had to work for her, you’d probably end up looking like her assistant, Sylvia, who seemed at her wits’ end.

She sighed and opened her leather-bound notebook. There were several business cards attached to the pages with paperclips. You handed her one of your business cards as her boss shouted, Oh, Michael, isn’t this party deliiightful? It was Sylvia’s cue to leave.

“Thank you. We’ll take a look at your work and get back to you as soon as we can. Enjoy your night.”

Sylvia rushed to her boss who was looking around like a lost puppy. When she saw her assistant, a look of relief crossed her face. It was a little over the top but it made you smile.

“So, Grant Thomas,” you said, planting yourself directly in front of Bucky now that you were alone. “Cute name.”

“Agh, I wanted to tell you before the party but...” He shrugged. “How did you figure it out?”

“One of the waiters saw us together. He’s your biggest fan. Said you were talented, humble and devilishly handsome in that suit.”

“The waiter said that?” Bucky asked with a frown as he led you toward an empty corridor.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

“I seem to have that effect on people,” he said, linking his arm through yours.

“So humble.” You entered the Hall of Biodiversity together. “What’s the meaning behind your pen name?”

There was a small pause before he answered. “Grant is Steve’s middle name, Thomas is Sam’s. I wanted to honor them. Steve literally saved my life, and Sam... well, he stood by my side even when we barely knew each other.”

“I’m sure they were touched.”

“Meh,” Bucky said with a grimace. “Steve said it sounded like a fake name, and Sam tried to make me use ‘Thomas Grant’ instead. I think deep down they like it.” He turned his head to look at you. “How did it go with the curator?”

You cringed. “Just to give you an idea, imagine an amateur magician performing at their first show. I was sweating, I stuttered, and I dropped my cards. It was awful.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. At least he’ll remember me, right?”

You spent the next couple of hours mingling with a bunch of rich people; most of them were incredibly weird, the others were strangely relatable. You were a lot more cool and collected with Bucky by your side. He always had really nice things to say about you or your paintings, and his words rang true, giving you yet another reason to fall for him.

When you reached the planetarium, Bucky took your hand in his, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

You practically had the place to yourselves, everyone else was either in the Grand Gallery or in the Roosevelt Memorial. Since no one was around, you decided to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot.

You lost track of time, listening to Bucky’s stories about the universe as he guided you along the spiralling walkway.  

“We’re just tiny little specks living on a bigger speck, floating around,” he said, gazing up at a model of Jupiter hanging from the ceiling. “Our time here is so limited, our bodies are so fragile.”

“Umm,” you hummed. “At least we’re not at the bottom of the food chain.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a bummer.”

“Do you know who’s at the bottom of the food chain?” you asked. “French fries. I’m starving.”

His laughter rang out, loud and clear, in the silence of the planetarium. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You headed for the coat-check room, where Bucky left one of his ridiculously generous tips, and stepped outside, shivering from the cold winter night. You looked up at the stars glistening in the dark sky while you walked the short distance to the fast food restaurant.

You ate your fries in silence as you glanced around the restaurant. It was bright and gave off a friendly vibe. There were several other patrons even though it was almost two in the morning, though you and Bucky were the only ones wearing designer clothes.

Your high heels and clutch rested on the booth next to your hip, and Bucky’s bow tie was tied around your wrist. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tanned, muscular chest and a smattering of dark hair.

Bucky had removed his prosthetic after you’d found a booth. His fake arm rested on the table, scaring the hell out of the waitress when she came to take your order. Bucky apologized profusely, probably mentally adding another twenty to her tip.

You dozed off in the cab, utterly exhausted, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His arm was draped over your shoulders, his thumb sweeping up and down your collarbone. When you remembered that you still had to remove your makeup before going to bed, you let out a whine and nestled closer to him. He rested his head on top of yours, and you closed your eyes, enjoying his closeness.

A few days later, you told Natasha about the party, and she reminded you to be careful, to protect your heart. She wished someone had given her this advice when she’d met Sam.

It had never occurred to you that Natasha might have feelings for Sam, not because he was an awful person. No, it was quite the opposite. He was handsome and funny, always looking for some kind of trouble. She’d mentioned multiple times that he was really good in bed, which honestly didn’t surprise you.

You knew she liked him, but you didn’t know she liked him.

On your way home, you mulled over the things she had told you. About a block away from your apartment, you took your keys out of your pocket and stared at the little angel keychain, wondering if your feelings for Bucky were real. The line between friends and lovers was definitely blurred but you couldn’t cross it. There was too much at stake, you couldn’t risk ruining your friendship.

As you turned the corner into your street, you spotted someone standing outside the building’s front door. You slowed down, dawdled, so you could observe them.

You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, though you suspected a man. They were carrying a traveller’s backpack on their shoulders, blocking your view. Whoever it was, they had a fantastic ass.

They pushed the intercom button, waited a few seconds and pushed it again. When the doors remained closed, they turned around to leave and you came face-to-face with a man with long dirty blond hair, a bushy ginger beard and striking baby blue eyes. You immediately recognized him from the photos you’d seen on Bucky’s laptop.

“Oh my God, Steve!” you exclaimed, startling him.

Part 8

[halstudandruz]

Withdrawal (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Will Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Dirty texts lead to a horny Halstead

Warnings: Smut (18+), swearing, sexting

A/N: Will’s texts are bolded, yours are italicized

It had been too long, way too long since you’ve had the time to be with your boyfriend. You flew home for your mother’s birthday and ended up staying a couple more days than you had originally planned. On top of that your flight had gotten delayed twice thanks to a storm rolling through so instead of getting to spend a few hours with Will before his shift you had gotten home an hour after he already left, and man were you going through some withdrawal. Walking in your shared apartment you dropped your luggage in the living room exhaustion hitting a little. You decided to take a nap knowing full well your boyfriend wouldn’t be home for at least a minimum of 12 hours and would likely be even longer than that. Falling into your bed Will’s minty scent took over instantly relaxing you. Pulling out your phone you pulled his name up typing a quick message informing him you were home safety before drifting off.

Waking up you huffed at the clock not appreciating the time that still stood between you and Will. Dragging yourself out of your bed and into the shower you let the water cascade over your body. A smirk formed on your face as the idea popped in your head. Stepping out from under the water you dried your hands before leaning to grab your phone off the shelf. Pulling Will’s messages back up you began to type,

“The things I would give to be pushed against this shower wall right now is outrageous.” Accompanied by a very tasteful picture.

Setting your phone back down you finished showering wrapping your towel around your body heading towards your bedroom. While getting dressed you heard your phone ping from the bathroom. Smiling you headed to grab it opening Will’s text,

“Holy hell baby. I’m feeling tortured enough. How am I supposed to focus after that? I may have to sneak off to the bathroom here for a second.”

“Don’t you dare. I want it saved all for me. I don’t know how you were focusing before that all I can think about is you.” You replied.

“I miss my girl so much. I can’t wait to get home to you. I have a whole list of things I need to do to you.” Will answered.

“Is that so? Feel free to paint me a picture.” You teased.

“How would that be fair? You’re home all alone able to do whatever you want.” He retorted.

“Alright then..let me paint a picture for you?”

“Baby I’m working and I’m already on the brink of insanity..” Will pleaded. You gave in feeling a little bad imagining him suffering at work between patients. However, an hour later the guilt had faded as you pulled up the texts again to continue the teasing.

“I thought about it and I realized I wouldn’t be a good girlfriend if I didn’t give you a heads up to what’s gonna happen tonight.” A few minutes had passed before you had gotten a reply,

“Well...I wouldn’t want you to think you’re a bad girlfriend or anything.” He answered making you laugh.

“Oh man baby I cannot wait to jump on you. I miss your smell, your lips, your taste, your touch so much. Can’t wait to have my lips on yours, on your chest, on your abs, and most importantly wrapped around your cock. I want your dick shoved down my throat, so rough I won’t be able talk tomorrow.” You started.

“You have absolutely no idea how bad I want that. You’re such a pro at sucking this dick.”

“Practice makes perfect and I think I may be a little out of practice so I better get to work. Can’t wait to tease you a little. Feeling you up outside of your jeans, love feeling your dick go hard in my hand. Use my teeth to pull your zipper down just so you can feel my breath. Want you begging for my mouth baby. Twitching in my hand before it even gets there. Not sure whether I should swallow or not though. Love the taste of you filling up my throat, but also love watching you cum all over your stomach and licking it all up after kinda the best of both worlds..what do you think?”

“Fuck babe...I’m so hard how am I supposed to hide this?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t..let everyone know how bad you need me...especially Natalie…” You couldn’t help but tease him a little knowing you’d probably get at least a small laugh out of him.

“Don’t want her. Only you and that perfect pussy of yours. Can’t wait to get home and eat you up because believe me I’m starving.”

“I’m more than ready. Can’t wait to have that handsome face of yours shoved in my pussy making me feel so fucking good.”

“Hell babygirl. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this shift. I’m going to absolutely wreck you when I get home.” He replied after a while.

“Is that a promise?” You teased.

“You better fucking believe it.” He texted.

You had finally decided to leave your boyfriend to work turning Netflix on. Drowning the hours away until you finally heard the door of your apartment click. Turning your head to see your boyfriend walking in, dropping his bag at the door, pushing it closed before turning to face you. A smile immediately surfaced on your face, heart thumping faster. It had only been 2 weeks but you swear you had almost forgotten what he looked like. Realizing long distance couples should get all the props in the world. Jumping up off the couch you launched yourself into his arms wrapping yourself around his body. You felt him laugh, wrapping his arms around you to pull your tighter against his body.

“Hi baby.” He whispered into your ear kissing your cheek softly.

“I missed you sooo much.” You whined nuzzling your face into his neck relaxing at his scent too easily.

“You’re telling me.” He smiled pulling your face up to meet his lips, humming at the feeling. Your hand instinctively wrapped around his neck pulling him down enough to your height to deepen the kiss. Biting your bottom lip, his hands moved down to your thighs, getting the hint you jumped letting him support you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Moving his lips down your jaw to your neck he pressed you up against the nearest wall nipping at your collarbone in the process.

“Not wasting any time are we?” You teased starting to unbutton the front of his shirt.

“I may actually explode if I wait any longer. Which is all your fault. Thinking you’re so clever making me suffer at work all day. I had to hide my hard on for hours.” He admitted tugging at the hem of your shirt, before you discarded it on the floor leaving you left in only your panties. “As gorgeous as ever.” He smirked lips moving to your breasts making you moan softly at the contact as he circulated between your nipples. Taking it in and enjoying it for a second before reaching between the two of you working on his belt and jeans, struggling at first in the position but not too long after getting them pushed down along with his underwear. He adjusted his grip on you stepping out of them and kicking them to the side before moving his hand down to your core, gently rubbing on the outside of your panties. Whimpering you tried to push your hips stronger against his fingers making him chuckle. “And I’m the impatient one.” He joked leaning in to capture your lips with his, moving your panties to the side to properly rub at your clit before slowly inserting a finger into you. Moaning into his mouth he took this advantage to sneak his tongue in quickly taking dominance of the kiss. Curling his finger up to hit your sweet spot before inserting another, working you open again. Looking down between you, you see his dick upright, tip swollen red with precum already dripping out.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, what is this?” You smirked collecting the precum on the tip of your finger before putting it in your mouth to lick it off, chucking at Will’s whimper as he watched. Pulling his hand away from you, you gave his shaft a few tugs before moving your panties to the side again rubbing his tip up and down your slit a few times to collect the wetness before slowly starting to push him into you. Will’s eyes closed at your movement, breath trying to steady as you let him take over. Regaining control his nails digged into your thighs watching your face as he slowly pushed into you letting you adjust every couple seconds. Bottoming out his face moved to the crook of your neck before starting to set a steady pace as your hands rested at his shoulders trying to keep yourself up. Feeling the pleasure start to course through your body your head fell back against the wall, moaning out loudly without shame. “Man did I miss you and your dick.” You whined.

“I missed this pussy baby. Always so fucking good.” Will grunted into your ear tugging at your earlobe making you bite your lip sighing heavily, but quickly yelling out whenever he hit your g spot after adjusting slightly.

“Mmm, right there babe.” You informed nails digging into his shoulders. Your muscles were starting to burn so you could only imagine how Will was feeling but you were into much pleasure to care as his thrusts started to speed up, small grunts and moans filling your ear. Feeling your pleasure building you reached down between the two of you starting to rub your clit in time with his thrusts taking you to a whole other level. As you felt the knot in your stomach grow stronger and stronger you pulled Will in closer to your body raking your nails from your free hand down his chest leaving marks, crying out with every thrust.

“Come on baby, let go for me.” Will huffed out between ragged breaths. Seconds later you gave in screaming out Will's name, trying to grasp for him as your limbs shook, white covering your vision, going almost completely limp in Will’s hold. Coming back to reality just in time to hear Will screaming your name accompanied by a few curse words, muffled into your shoulder, his cum filling you completely. Will took a few deep breaths trying to regain control before slowly pulling out and gently sitting you back down on your feet where you grasped onto his biceps still wobbly on your feet. Chuckling he swiftly picked you back up bridal style before walking over and dropping you on the couch where you pulled him down with you. “In hindsight probably would’ve been less physically exhausting to just do it here but hey desperate times call for desperate measures.” He joked kissing your cheek and making you giggle.

“Can always be put to use in round 2.” You shrugged smiling up at him.

“I missed you so much.” He laughed, shaking his head, and grabbing your face between his hands to kiss you. There were quite a few different surfaces put to use that night.

[watchtower-feed]

Death Do We Part (Part 11)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Notes: (NSFW) This is looooong overdue. I hope I made the wait worth it. It’s not smut though, I don’t think. I wanted it to be... softer? romantic? special? Words: 3,100+

    Where are you headed?

    You run a couple of blocks before you hide in an alley and close your eyes. You’re immediately met with a piercing sensation on the back of your hand. You feel Jason take out what was lodged and blood oozes down from your new wound. Then the muscles on your legs are extending and retracting, he’s running away.

    This is the hard part but you have to get this right. You grew up in these streets. You know Gotham about as much as you know Jason. You pay attention to the smell, the noise, and the direction of the wind because you need to know exactly where Jason is running off to.

    It takes you an hour to finally figure out where he’s going. You’ve been following his trail as best you can. He’s running through streets with the same amount of foot traffic as any other bad part of Gotham. But it’s only when you hear the siren on his end and it’s in tune with the same siren that passes you in the street, that you look around to finally take in where you are and now you’re sure which building he’s in and which unit.

    You walk up to the Todds’ old apartment and stand stiff in front of their door that’s been left partly open. The lights are off inside and you don’t hear anything. 

     As if acting on its own, your hand pushes the door until it’s swung all the way out, giving you a full view of a slightly furnished apartment, with Jason sitting on the floor, his back resting against the back of the couch, tending to his wound. 

     He doesn’t look at you but the lights from the hallway flood in and illuminate him. He knows you’re there.

    “Don’t worry, Y/N. The bleeding will stop soon. Gonna hurt like a bitch for days though.”

    Are you dreaming? Have you fallen asleep in the safe house and your mind is only giving you what you want? Or is there still fear toxin in your body and this is actually a nightmare waiting to happen.

     Slowly, you take one step at a time until you’re standing in front of him. 

    Jason snorts and raises his eyebrows but he keeps his eyes on his hand, “Took you long enough to find me.”

     You kneel on the floor, making him pause what he’s doing. Finally, he looks at you and stares with half-hooded eyes and the smallest hint of a pout. He has aged, gotten taller and bigger, broad shoulders and bulging muscles, but he still wears the same expression on his face whenever he thinks he’s about to be scolded.

    Gently, afraid he’ll move away or suddenly disappear, you bring up your hands to touch his face. The instant you’re holding him, he leans into your touch, with his eyes closed and brows creased with so many lines.

    You tear up at the sight of him. His pain and fear and relief are all mixing together. You touch your forehead to his and he places his hands over yours.

    “You’re not mad?” he whispers.

    You laugh like a long sigh, loud and breathless, “Of course I’m mad. Exasperated. Downright blood boiling, fist-clenching mad, Jason.”

    He smirks and nuzzles his nose against yours. “You know, it’s easier to fucking swear.”

    16 when he died. 17 almost 18 now. Jason is a killer. An assassin. A Gotham criminal. But he’s also still so young. He was a teenager when he died. A teenager when he came back to life. And right now he’s still a teenager teasing you while your hands are bleeding through his badly done bandages.

     You kiss him.

     The moment your lips touch Jason takes you in, pushing his lips harder against yours, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in until there’s no more room in between. You tip your head to the side and kiss deeper. His tongue finds yours first and you never knew until this moment how much you really missed Jason.

     It’s like coming home after running in the darkness for so long, almost forgetting what it was like to be in the light and then suddenly being overwhelmed by its intensity and heat.

    You part but only enough to catch your breaths. Your foreheads and noses are still touching. Your hands are still framing his face and you feel his laughter vibrate from his cheeks before you hear it. “You know, on paper, this is technically incest, Robin Wayne.”

    You instantly bring down your eyebrows in frustration, “Jason, please. I finally have you back. Don’t make me murder you.”

    He laughs and it fills the old apartment. You can feel the heavy weight in your heart lifting every time his chest vibrates against yours. You laugh as well. You’ve always known that Jason hides his fears behind humor, and right now he’s terrified.

    “The infection will probably get us first,” he looks at the back of his hand from behind your shoulder and you see your own hand still bleeding. Grudgingly, but only slightly, you pull back to bring his hand down and tend to it. You wrap his hand tightly and secure it while he stares at your focused eyes. He wants to apologize. 

     It’s not just for this wound. It’s all the other wounds he’s accumulated through the years. As Red Hood. As a League assassin. As Robin and as Jason Todd. He wants to mend everything. But you’ve always been the one who’s better at taking care of both of your wounds.

    “Thank you, Y/N.”

    You blush. He said it before but you weren’t listening then. You haven’t heard him say your name in years. The way his voice always softens when he’s saying it, how his lips curl at the ends after the last syllable, like he’s gloating that your name is something only he can say.

    “Ja--”

    There are so many things to say. So many questions to ask. Things to clarify, to get off your chest, to shout, to scream, and to whisper. But this universe is shit and you have so little time. Less time than you know and it always only takes a second to change everything from bad to worse.

    Your phone rings in your pocket and Jason takes it out far quicker than you. A single bat symbol greets him on the illuminated screen. He quickly stands up and walks over to the window looking over the road.

    “Jason, what--”

    He waits for a car to come by and then throws the phone on top of the roof with the least pressure he can muster to keep it functional. If it breaks, they’ll go to the last location recorded. If it looks like you’re on the move again, they won’t look for you here. 

    When he turns back to you, he’s gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. “Are you an idiot? Batman always puts a tracker on our phones.”

    You know that. You’re stunned, stuck between staring at Jason’s seething demeanor and wondering why. Why would that bother him? It’s there for your own safety.

    “Jason…” you pause, wondering if you actually need to ask this, “do you not-- are you not coming back?”

    Jason’s eyes widened, “Back to what?!” He paces by the window. “Back to the manor, to Bruce? Back to Batman and his new Robin?” He suddenly stops pacing and glares down at you, “Tim.”

    You shudder, “That’s not fair.”

    “I know,” he retorts, mocking you while rolling his eyes, “I heard you. Crying and screaming like you didn’t mean it--”

    You stand up quickly, “What about Talia, huh?! You had sex with her, Jason!”

    He scoffs, “That didn’t mean anything--”

    “Oh, that’s rich! You fucked her, Jason!” You hit his chest, hurting you more than it did him. The pain makes you angrier and you’re shouting now. “We’re soulmates and yet you slept with her!”

    Jason stares you down with a steely gaze, “Why does that matter? It stopped mattering to you.”

    “No, it didn’t--!”

    “I know you, Y/N. Ever since we were younger I felt the little flutters in your chest and the small heat on your cheeks when you watch me, when you’re falling for whatever stupid thing I’d do.” He pauses then leans down closer so you can see it, the hurt plainly screwing up his face, “I felt it when you were with Tim.”

     You stare at Jason and wonder if he’s serious. If he really thinks you stopped loving him. Didn’t you? He had Talia. You had Tim. Jason on this warpath that’s gotten you and Alfred hurt. Really hurt.

    What if he’s the one who stopped loving you?

     “I may have slept with Talia but I didn’t love her or like her. But you--”

     “Jason.”

     You want to look away from him, to stop seeing the despair and distaste he’s feeling right now. But life has proven to be too short to dwell on anything other than the present, the only moment that truly exists for the two of you.

    “Tim was there for me when you weren’t. Like you had Talia--” Jason looks like he wants to interrupt but you raise your voice, “But it’s finally just us here.”

     You look into his eyes and with effortless sincerity, you speak your truth. The only truth that matters now.

    “I love you. More than anything in the world, I love you. Please understand that.”

    Jason’s face immediately shifts. The sides of his mouth twitch as his eyes soften and turn to the floor.

     You reach out to touch his face again and to your relief he lets you. He hangs his head so you can reach him with ease. His hair covers half his eyes and they’re staring at you. Jason takes a step forward and slowly embraces you. He rests his weary head on your shoulder and you bury your face against his chest, inhaling every last scent.

     You stay like that for a long time, just resting and touching, but the moment you start feeling him move again, it’s too soon.

    “It’s almost dawn. You should go back.”

    You clutch harder to make him stay and you frown against his shirt. “You’re really not coming back with me?” you whisper.

    Jason sighs but he answers you in the same hushed tone, “Y/N, I can’t. Not yet. There’s still something I have to do--”

    “Kill the Joker?” 

    Jason presses his face harder on your shoulder and you feel his lips move against your skin when he speaks, “It’s not just that. Please, Y/N.” His hands move to the sides of your neck and gently push you back until he can look you in the eye. “I need to do this.”

    Your lips quiver at all the things you want to say, the words you want to convey to make him go back with you. But fear is overpowering, fear of not knowing is consuming. You have to ask. “Scarecrow hit me with the fear toxin. I’m sure you felt that. I need to know Jason, did you send him? To the cave? To us?” Jason's eyes are narrowed and his brows are creased in concern like your words are hurting him physically. “Alfred got most of it.”

    “Is he…”

    You shake your head and look down, “He’s okay now. He was sleeping before I left.”

    There was a pause before Jason spoke again. “I’m sorry. I really am.” You know that’s all he’s going to say. None of his plans, nothing of what happens next. Even if you ask, he’ll tell you it’s for your safety not to know.

    “Once this is all over,” he uses his thumbs to prop your chin up so you’ll look at him, “I promise to come back for you and we’ll go wherever you want us to go. We’ll be together all the time, grow old, and have the most ill-mannered kids. I promise.”

     You laugh even though Jason is serious. You’ll definitely hold him to that promise.

     You lean your forehead against his and your lips hover in hesitation and frustration before he finally kisses you. It’s not like before. This is a lot softer, more mannered, but it also feels more desperate.

    Slowly you separate and Jason’s hands limp down as you turn to the door. He watches your back and clenches his fist to keep himself from stopping you.

    But you do stop in front of the doorway, your hand unmoving on the handle. You stand there for a while before you finally close the door and lock it. Then you turn around and march back into Jason’s arms, kissing him deeper.

    He welcomes it and embraces you before pulling away. “That’s some goodbye kiss,” he comments and then takes your lips back in full.

    You pull back and you shake your head. “It’s not a goodbye kiss. Close your eyes.” You wait until he does and then you close your own. You focus on your own feelings, the way your face is heated, your heart is pounding in your chest, and how wet you are.

    He immediately opens his eyes and narrows them, “Y/N, no.”

    You’re taken aback. Your brows furrow instantly, pulling your body away from him. “It’s Talia, isn’t it?”

    “No, Y/N. No, it’s not. God no--” he steps back and harshly drags his hands down the sides of his face. He looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes, “I’ve always wanted our first time to be special, okay?” His arms shoot up as he gestures around the room, “Not in this shitty apartment where there’s not even a shitty bed.”

    You stare at the blush that’s slowly enveloping his face. You don’t feel the same bashfulness anymore. Life and death have shown you how the world works and nothing ever happens the way you expect it to.

    You hold on to his shoulders and wait for his eyes to meet yours. “Make it special later. I’ve lost you more than I should have to. And right now I just-- I want to feel like your soulmate.”

    “You are,” Jason cups the sides of your face and stares back intensely, “Not because of our stupid link. But because I want you in my life for as long as I can. And I’ll make sure it’ll be for the longest goddamn time.”

    “I don’t care about tomorrow or any future,” you retort. “Right now, I want to be with you, Jason. Now is ours.”

     You lean in until your lips are inches apart. His ragged breath dances on your lips until Jason finally closes the gap. He kisses you gently and carries you in his arms, making you squeal into his mouth.

     Unfazed, Jason lays you on the couch and slowly undresses you until his hands will only ever touch your skin. You sit up and reach for him. He lets you take off his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head, unbuckling his belt until they drop to the floor, and pulling down his pants along with his boxers.

     He kicks off his boots before he hovers over you with his arms framing your body. You both take in each other’s forms and start counting scars, and bruises, and wounds that mimic each other, falsely disguising that you’ve lived your lives together as one.

     You touch Jason’s arm, tugging until he finally leans down and kisses you. Your hand travels down his back, to his side, and down to his crotch. He grunts when he feels your fingers wrap around him and you moan when you feel it, too.

     Jason dips his fingers inside you, making you gasp. He closes his eyes as he moans at the same time. You touch his face and wait until he opens his eyes to look at you. You nod your head and brace yourself as Jason shifts his body until his tip is touching the lips of your pussy.

     When he slowly pushes himself in, your fingers dig into his back and your mouth hangs open as a never-ending gasp escapes you. Your back arches off the couch, grazing your clit against his hip bone and you both yell out at the same time.

     Jason looks at you with wide eyes and a hint of confusion, wondering if that was the kind of intensity you would always feel when you do this, when you’re one like this. He kisses you while he waits for your walls to relax around him. When he feels your hips moving beneath him, he starts moving again.

     It’s the most sensational feeling either of you have ever felt. All this time, all you’ve known in your life is pain and fear. Endless nights of suffering that you’ve thrown away all hope for anything else. But right here, right now, your bodies are being consumed by the electricity skittering on the tips of your skin and flames pooling at the depths of your stomach and blazing up and down your spines.

     You’re moaning without inhibitions and Jason drags down his kisses and takes out his frustration on your neck. He sucks and bites and licks it all better before starting all over on a new patch of skin.

     As your voices go louder, your bodies move faster until you can hear skin slapping against each other. Finally, Jason’s name escapes your lips as you cum. The feeling is far too much for him and his body quivers soon after yours.

     You’re taking in ragged breaths as you wait for the electricity to leave your bodies. With as much effort as he can muster, Jason lifts you with one hand so you can lie on top of him on the couch. Your head rests on his chest with your arms draped over his torso. Your legs tangle themselves with his and Jason kisses the top of your head.

     “We’ll make it special later,” he says breathlessly and you cry softly. 

     He uses his thumbs to wipe the tears from your face and you want to tell him that this is special. Every moment he spends with you is special.

     “I don’t want to go back,” you whisper and it pains you just to say it. The thought of disappearing from Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Tim, and the idea of walking away from Jason now is tearing you apart.

     He hums against your skin and continues to massage your cheekbones with his thumb. “We’ll be together soon. But for now, you’re safer with Bruce.”

     “We can go home together. Just imagine it, Jason. How shocked and happy they’ll be to see you walking into the safe house with me.” You watch as Jason closes his eyes, picturing the scene you’re dictating to him. You can see the lines creasing around his forehead and you know he wants it too but he doesn’t believe in it.

     His lips press harder against your forehead, urging you to stop. More tears stream down your face and it’s you who wipe them this time.

     You lean forward and kiss Jason on the lips. Then you watch as the soft light of a new day stream down his features. You have to go.

     Jason kisses you again, holding on to your face, and then grudgingly lets you go. He lies on the couch with his hand draped over his eyes as you gather your clothes and get dressed. You kneel beside his head and say his name.

     “I can’t, Y/N-- If I see you, I won’t have it in me to let you walk out of here.”

     So you kiss his cheeks with quivering lips and your tears warm his skin before you leave the Todds’ old apartment.

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧  

[cinebration]

The Darkest Shine (Dan Torrance x Reader) [Part 10]

Dan asks you to stay.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Epilogue

Tagged: @blackeasteagle​​, @theblackmaskclub​​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: winterswake

Dan pleaded with you to stay the next morning. “If you’re not alone, maybe he won’t come back.”

You sighed heavily, a hint of anxiety tinging your tired voice. You hadn’t slept well, haunted by the hours you had been dead earlier the previous day. “If you’re here when he does, who knows what he’ll do?”

“I’ll feel better if you stay.”

You stared into his blue eyes, at the pleading in those vivid irises. Perhaps resurrecting him had created a bond you hadn’t anticipated, one he felt strongly in the wake of having lost you, however briefly. There was something there on your end, a slight tightening of the chest when you looked at him, as though a part of you were tied to him, anchored there in his own chest. Certainly after last night, when he had held you for the hour you had sobbed senselessly, your hoarse throat turning into a painful rasp, something had been cemented between the two of you.

You had never broken before in front of somebody else. Had never been put back together in someone else’s arms.

“Please,” Dan said.

“If he comes—”

“We’ll face him together. He isn’t the first devil I’ve faced.”

You knew he meant it. He had experienced devils aplenty, from the Overlook to the drinking to the steam vampires.

“Okay,” you whispered. It hurt to speak it, though not only because of your raw throat.

A handsome smile graced his equally handsome, though weary, face. “Good.”

You hoped it would be.

~~

It took a while to get used to the new living situation. Concerned he wouldn’t be able to sense the man in black’s presence if he weren’t in the same room, Dan insisted you move into the apartment. He brought up a twin bed and pushed it near the window so that you could feel the open space beyond the glass panes in case the claustrophobia became overwhelming.

The first night, you listened to Dan’s steady breathing. It occurred to you that you hadn’t tried sleeping in a room with someone else in it in…forever. The last time you had shared a bed, you had crept out after the man slipped off into sleep.

With Dan, though, it didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable. After listening to his breathing for an hour, you were lulled to sleep by its soothing tone and regularity.

“Let’s find out.”

NO!

You awoke with a cry to find Dan’s hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake. Sweat ran in rivulets down your back and between your breasts. The damp sheets clung to you, suffocating.

“I’m here,” Dan murmured. He wiped some of the hair off your forehead, tucking it back behind your ear. “I’m here.”

You wanted to cry again. The comforting touch affected you almost as much as the nightmare, but it soothed you nevertheless. You clung to Dan’s free hand, clutching it to your chest, until the thundering heartbeat quieted in your ears and no longer bruised your ribcage.

Every night, it happened. You woke in a sweat, Dan beside you in an instant, calming you.

“I’m gonna wake the fucking building,” you muttered on the third night.

“Your screams are mental,” he confided quietly. He averted his gaze, as though he had admitted to an indiscretion.

“I’m sorry you have to hear them.”

“I don’t mind. I wish there was something more I could do.”

“I’m not sure there is.”

Had you been alone, you would have slept less and less unless insomnia killed you, giving the man in black all the more reason to appear. That realization set you at ease with living with Dan.

~~

Though it wasn’t in your field or training, you got a job at the library. The quiet calmed you, much to your surprise. You had worried that the near silence of the library would remind you too much of the pinewood box, but the turn of pages—a susurrus you managed not to associate with the man in black’s voice in your mind—subdued coughs, and low murmurs were enough to keep your lizard brain from kicking into flight mode.

Dan had managed to get his old job back at the hospice. He had returned from the dead, but no one truly questioned it. They rationalized it away: He had been injured and recovering in Colorado for the last few months. For those who understood that Doctor Sleep wasn’t quite one of them, they felt they couldn’t pry further into the matter.

He brought you lunch at the library and you brought him dinner at the hospice. The routine helped you re-center yourself.

After a particularly long night involving the passing on of two patients at the hospice, Dan trudged into his room. You had stayed up reading, afraid to try sleeping without his presence. Kicking off his shoes, he pulled his scrubs off. You averted your eyes out of courtesy, but in the month and a half that you had been living with him, you both had discovered it was nothing for Dan to change clothes in the same room after a hard night.

He slipped into pajama bottoms and a shirt, the chill of approaching winter calling for it, and sat on the edge of his bed, sighing heavily as he stared down at the floor. Bookmarking your place, you went over to him.

“Rough night?” you asked.

“Heavy,” he answered. He didn’t lift his head. The slope and tension of his shoulders seemed like a burden had been placed there.

Crouching before him, you placed your hands on his knees, looking up into his weary face. He stared down at you, the exhaustion in his eyes lessening.

“Good and bad days,” you said slowly, trying to find the right words, “are what they are. But at least you have company to share them.”

He smiled faintly, reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I suppose.”

“For true, Dan Torrance.” Rising, you brushed your lips against his cheek.

And froze. Heat flushed up the back of your neck and into your cheeks. Turning away, you retreated to your bed. You hadn’t meant to kiss his cheek. You had just been standing up. Had he leaned forward? Had you? The thoughts ran circles in your head as you listened to him climb into bed.

They didn’t prevent you from your nightly nightmare.

The man in black, emerging from the mist of your mind. “I see you got yourself different eyes this time.”

Endless nothing surrounded you. Only the man in black seemed illuminated as though from within, eyes flashing.

“Have you tried out any new tricks?”

This wasn’t the coffin. Something else. More of your mind under his power for him to enter as himself rather than a memory.

Your threat clenched.

“I think it’s time for another experiment, don’t you?”

“No,” you hissed, but it came out a weak moan.

“Burying you wasn’t good enough. How about…burning?”

Acrid smoke burned your nostrils. You recoiled, panic gripping your chest.

“Leave me alone,” you whimpered.

“Darling, we aren’t done yet.”

You jolted awake with the taste of bloody dirt in your mouth and the man in black’s chuckle in your ears. Dan sat beside you, hand on your shoulder. Nearly sixty nights of this and he hadn’t yet complained.

“That one was different,” he noted when your breathing steadied.

You nodded but didn’t speak. Patting his hand gently, your sign that you were fine, you rolled onto your side to face the wall. Dan frowned but returned to his own bed.

Shivers crawled beneath your skin. The sheets felt like boa constrictors, tightening around you slowly. The moment Dan had let go, you heard the man in black’s voice slithering about in your skull.

“We aren’t done yet.”

Please stop, you cried. You curled tighter into a ball, hands clapped over your ears.

Safety. You needed safety. Something to shut the voice out.

You swung your legs off the side of the bed, hesitated.

Tick tock, tick tock, the man in black cooed.

It took all your strength not to bolt. Crossing the few feet between your beds, you slid into Dan’s.

He stiffened for a moment beside you. You curled into him, muscles twitching as vestigial tremors rolled through you. All you wanted was rest. True, real rest. Peace.

Dan shifted. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close enough to hear his heartbeat. It seemed faster than it should be, but you had given him a fright, you told yourself.

His nose buried itself into the crown of your head, lips pressed gently against your hair.

The susurrus in your head stopped.

You stayed in Dan’s arms all night, clinging to the peace you had found.

[jaybear1701]

Chapter Summary: Raelle and Scylla get a bit, um, physical with their training before Scylla must leave on a new mission.

Scylla’s fist slammed against the punching bag, the blow reverberating up her right arm to her elbow and shoulder. She jabbed with her left, then followed it with a right hook and a left uppercut. Muscles burning, it felt good to release all the pent up frustration that had been steadily building over the past few weeks. Here, she didn’t have to think about the Spree, the Army, or the Camarilla. Didn’t have to think about Anacostia and her lofty expectations, or about Willa and her growing disappointment. 

And, most importantly, it kept her mind off Raelle.

She threw a particularly vicious right cross, powered by an unintentional Seed sound, sending her poor workout partner flying into the air. Cassidy landed a few meters away, the impact echoing loudly throughout the empty rough room. It was early enough that they would still have the space to themselves for at least a few minutes more before it would be crammed full of eager War College soldiers. 

“O-kay,” Cassidy groaned as she rolled to her side, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position. “I think I’ve had about enough of that.”

“Sorry, Cass.” Scylla walked over, clasped Cassidy’s wrist, and helped pull her to her feet. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Wincing, Cassidy palmed the back of her head, just under her ponytail. “Sadly, this’ll probably be the highlight of my day.” 

“Training’s going that well?” Scylla wiped sweat from her forehead with a small towel, and flapped her sleeveless gray shirt to cool off.

“I think that one mean sergeant with, uh, you know, the eyes… the scary eyes. Quartermaine?” Cassidy shuddered. “I thought she was for sure gonna liquefy me because they weren’t ready for the next mission. Actually, she’d probably do it anyway if she caught you and me,” she curled her fingers into air quotes, “fraternizing.”

Scylla chuckled. “Try not to let Anacostia scare you.”

“Is this where you tell me her bark is worse than her bite?” Cassidy gave her a skeptical side-eye.

“Oh no, they’re equally terrifying,” Scylla half-grinned, walking to the edge of a sparring mat and exchanging her towel for a water bottle. “Just try not to let her scare you, anyway.” 

“Great, thanks,” Cassidy muttered, grabbing her own drink and guzzling it down. “Between her and Collar’s kid, I’m not sure who hates me more.”

Scylla’s hand stilled as she brought the bottle to her lips. “You’ve, um, met Raelle?” She kept her voice light and uninterested, hoping it belied the way her pulse quickened.

“Met?” Cassidy grimaced. “No. But she gives me the evil eye every time I see her. What’s up with that?”

What, indeed. Scylla shrugged noncommittally even as her stomach fluttered. 

“At least I won’t have to see either of them for a while after today,” Cassidy said. 

Scylla’s brow scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

“It means you’re being dispatched in less than 12 hours,” Willa Collar’s voice cut in.  “Which you would have known if you’d bothered to show up to last night’s debrief.”

The hair along the nape of Scylla’s neck rose as she turned to watch Willa approach, lips pursed, boots clicking ominously on the hard floor. She was in uniform, crisp and neatly pressed. The perfect image of the perfect soldier. It was impressive, really, how well Willa could disguise herself in a lie. Scylla really had learned from the best.

Willa aimed a thin smile at Cassidy. “Do you mind if we have a minute, Cass?” It wasn’t a request.

“Sure thing, Boss.” Cassidy nodded, gave Scylla a look that implied behave, and headed out.

Scylla uncapped her bottle and took a long drink, if only to prolong the inevitable. The cold water did little to soothe the dryness in her throat as Willa peered at her in that unnerving way of hers, cold and appraising. Scylla still remembered when her blue eyes had been warmer and full of life. The past year clearly had not been kind. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Willa said when they were alone. 

“No, I’ve been busy with assignments you’ve forced on us.” Scylla set her water back down. “There’s a difference.”

“And how have those been going?”

“I thought you read all of my scintillating status reports.”

Willa lifted one eyebrow. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Most of them understand the basics of the Work,” Scylla said. “Craven and Moffett show the most promise, but none can maintain it under duress. Not yet.” They had all been frustrated in the last session when Scylla had dispelled their Work with a simple Seed of Disruption. 

“And Raelle?”

There it was. The real reason behind Willa’s questioning. All their conversations always came back to Raelle, eventually. Scylla was surprised it took this long.

“She should probably stick to Fixing.” That wasn’t exactly true. Raelle was no better or worse than the others, but Scylla wanted to get a rise of Willa. And it worked. 

Willa exhaled loudly, annoyance seeping into her already tense posture. “I mean, how is she?”

“Ask her yourself.” Scylla crossed her bare arms. 

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

“Try harder.”

Willa’s eyes flashed, dangerous like a stormy sea. “If you had just done your job to begin with–”

“And if you had just told her the truth,” Scylla interrupted, her own ire rising with the agitated beats of her heart. “You wouldn’t be in this mess. And neither would I.” 

“You know why I couldn’t.” Willa took an intimidating step closer and Scylla resisted the urge to retreat. 

Scylla did know. Knew all too well the lengths people would go to if it meant keeping their loved ones safe. But still… 

“I’m not helping you with Raelle. I thought I made that clear.” Scylla closed the gap between them even further. “I won’t hurt her. Ever again.”

Willa’s vice-like control over her emotions slipped. “She’ll be hurt if she stays in the Army. Or worse. You know that. She belongs with me. With us.”

“She’ll get hurt with us, too,” Scylla whispered, taking no victory when her words hit their mark and hurt rippled across Willa’s face. “But whether she stays or goes, that’s her decision to make. Isn’t that what you wanted? To give her the choice you didn’t have?”

Scylla stood her ground, planting her feet firmly on the proverbial hill she’d die on, neither of them wanting to be the first to flinch in their latest battle of wills. The double doors of the rough room burst open as several soldiers entered for early morning workouts. One stormed up to them. 

“What are you doing here?” 

It was Raelle. 

Willa blinked, and Scylla broke eye contact, head ducked down as they both moved away from each other. Yet another stalemate ended.  

“Having a conversation,” Willa answered, mask firmly back in place. “If you can recall how those work.” 

Raelle’s gaze was icy. “Seems you forgot yourself ‘bout a year ago.”

Like mother, like daughter. The two women stared each other down, reminding Scylla of two gunslingers locked in a duel at high noon. She took the rare opportunity to observe them both, noting the similar intensity in their profiles, the same conviction in nearly identical blue eyes. Together, they were Scylla’s past, present, and future, both evoking a complicated swirl of emotions within her. 

Willa lips flattened into a tight smile. “You can stand down, Private, I was just leaving.” She turned back toward Scylla, expression clear that their discussion was far from finished. “As for you, you’ll receive orders shortly.”

With that, she left them both. 

Scylla breathed out, long and slow. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though tension lingered in her neck. Her heart rate remained elevated, far from calm now that Raelle had fixed her attention on her. 

“Are you okay?” Raelle asked tentatively, gloved fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeveless black shirt.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Scylla attempted what she hoped was a convincing smile, hating the awkwardness between them. They were friendly, but far from friends. Stuck in a limbo of polite caution where they revolved around each other at arm’s length, neither willing to disrupt their new status quo.  

“You sure?” Raelle licked her lips, an inscrutable expression on her face. “Looked like you two were about to throw down.”

“Yeah.” Scylla nodded. “You Collars are nothing if not fierce.” She began to undo the straps of her training gloves, pulling at the velcro with a sharp rip. 

“You want to work it out?”

Scylla paused, unsure if she heard correctly. “Sorry?”

“Release some steam.” Raelle self-consciously raked her fingers through her blonde hair. “If you wanted.”

Scylla’s pulse kicked up even more. “That’s not necessary.”

“Come on,” Raelle insisted. “I’ve always wanted to see a Necro in action.” She flashed a grin; nervous, but real. It reminded Scylla of carefree days long gone.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle a Necro,” Scylla scoffed, paying no heed to the way her stomach flipped.

“Then you’ve got nothing to lose.”

It was a bad idea. A terrible one. Scylla knew it. And yet Raelle looked so playful and expectant. She was trying . And Scylla couldn’t resist. 

“Fine.” She re-tightened the straps of her training gloves and walked over to the sparring mat, bouncing on the balls of her feet to shake off the nerves that crept into her confidence.

“You serious?”

“As a heart attack.” It slipped out, the phrase Willa was so fond of using, and Scylla inwardly cursed when Raelle’s easy gait stuttered as she took a position opposite Scylla. They both  assumed a fighting stance, fists up.

“Haven’t heard that in a long time,” Raelle said as she threw a few light jabs that Scylla deftly dodged.

“You can ask me, you know,” Scylla said as they circled each other on the mat. “About her. I know you want to.”

“Will you tell me the truth?” Raelle feinted a punch and followed it with a front kick. Scylla blocked and countered with her own combination of strikes, hitting only air until she finally landed a glancing blow to Raelle’s chin.

“Yes.” Scylla backed off from pressing her assault, breath growing short from the exertion and the fact that it was the first physical contact she and Raelle had shared since their reunion at the massacre site. “The more important question is: will you believe me?”

Raelle’s fingertips skimmed the spot where she’d been hit, just underneath her scar. Impressed, she smiled and put her guard back up. “You work for my mom.”

“ With her,” Scylla corrected. “But you already knew that.”

“When did you meet?”

“About two years ago. After my parents were killed.” Scylla managed to hold her emotions in check, stemming the tide that always swelled within her whenever she thought of that horrible night. “She told me her name was Wilhelmina Smith.”

Raelle paused momentarily, nostrils flaring. “Smith was my dad’s name before they got married.” 

Their dance of offense and defense continued, attacks quickly parried, breaths growing heavier. They seemed evenly matched, though Scylla wondered if Raelle was holding back, just as she was, both not wanting to hurt the other. 

“She found me a place to stay,” Scylla continued. “Where I’d be safe.” 

“With the Spree?”

Scylla nodded once.

“So you knew her for a while?” Raelle asked, a tick in her jaw, throat bobbing as she swallowed.

“No.” Scylla shook her head, managing to avoid Raelle’s attempt at a leg sweep. “She’d check in every once in a while, but I rarely saw her. Not for a year, at least.” 

Scylla could practically see the cogs turning inside Raelle’s mind as she calculated the timeline of her mother’s “death.”

“And then?”

“And then she sent orders remotely.” Orders to say the words and get conscripted. Orders to let the Army make her strong. Orders to stay away from the cell at Baylord.

“Like recruiting me?”

Scylla hesitated on her next punch, giving Raelle the opening she needed to grab Scylla’s wrist, and twist her body until she could seize Scylla from behind. 

“You didn’t know she was my mom when I was your target.” It wasn’t a question. 

“No.” Scylla struggled to break free, hands clasping at sweat-slicked skin and toned muscle that wrapped around her. 

“If you had, would you have delivered me?” Raelle’s breath was hot against Scylla’s ear. 

Suppressing a shiver, Scylla snapped herself forward, using Raelle’s own weight to flip her over her shoulder and onto the mat. Raelle landed with a hard grunt, the wind knocked clean out of her. Scylla took the advantage to swiftly pin Raelle’s arms above her head, and trap her legs between her thighs. When Raelle tried to buck her off, Scylla only squeezed tighter.

“No,” Scylla panted out, chest heaving and blood pounding in her ears. She was so close to Raelle, too close, that she could feel Raelle’s harsh puffs against her face. Could smell the familiar clean scent of the Army’s regulation soap mixed with the sharp tang of sweat. Scylla’s gaze darted from Raelle’s dilated pupils to her lips and back, a familiar ache beginning to pool deep in her belly.

A loud and exaggerated cough came out of nowhere. 

They both glanced up to see Abigail towering over them, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Next to her was Tally, mouth dropped open and eyes so wide they could pop right out of their sockets.

“Excuse me, shitbirds, but this is a rough room,” Abigail quipped. “Not some cheap no-tell motel.”

Face on fire, Scylla immediately rolled off Raelle. They both refused to look in each other’s direction. 

***

The world seemed to tilt off-axis as Scylla stumbled through town, trying to reach the bus station before she met the same fate of her parents. She could still see the fear on both their faces as they had raised their hands in surrender; how her mom’s eyes had slid toward the garage in silent warning and love; the sickening thud of their bodies; the way the MPs chuckled after the execution. It was seared into her memory.    

A nauseating wave of anguish hit her and she retched on the side of a dark street. It wasn’t the first time that night, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. 

Legs weak, Scylla rounded a building about a block away from the depot. She was a mess and she needed a new lighter as soon as possible, having left her favorite one in her bedroom. They hadn’t even been there a week before they were found, boxes still left unpacked around the house. 

Panic overwhelmed her already churning stomach the second she set foot inside the small station. The military was already there, with MPs stationed at each gate. As casually as possible, Scylla pulled the hood of her dirty sweater up and fixed her attention on the arrival and departure board, watching out of the corner of her eye as one bus unloaded and a few more soldiers joined the ranks. She had to get out of there.

Scylla waited until she could slip into a large enough group of departing passengers, blending in with them until she could peel away. She headed deep down a nearby alleyway, head pounding, eyes stinging, staggering until her back hit a brick wall and she slid down to the ground behind a green dumpster.

It was hopeless, she thought as she wrapped her arms around her knees and curled into a ball. She was only prolonging the inevitable. Maybe it would be better if she just gave up now and turned herself in. Join her parents in the afterlife. At least then she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Are you okay?”

Scylla’s head snapped up and her heart stopped. A soldier approached slowly, hands up, placating. She was an older woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun.

Backing up against the wall, Scylla tried to remember one of the defensive Seeds that her parents had taught her, but was paralyzed with fear. This was it.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” the woman said, azure eyes kind. “I just wanna help.” She slowly crouched down carefully to not spook Scylla. “I’m Wilhelmina Smith.”

Scylla couldn’t speak even if she had wanted, not with the way terror gripped her throat. She was shaking so badly that she was surprised her teeth weren’t chattering.

“Listen,” Wilhelmina said softly. “If the MPs are this deep in the Cession, that means they’re lookin’ looking for one of two things: deserters or dodgers. You don’t look old enough to be a deserter. What are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

Scylla managed a nod.

“Parents?”

Try as she might, Scylla couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. They answered Wilhelmina’s question for her.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but I can get you somewhere safe.” She held out her hand. “We have to move quickly, though.”

Scylla stared at the proffered hand, weighing her options between a rock and a hard place. She could take a chance with this stranger, who could be leading her to a trap. Or roll the dice and run, risking capture.  

“Why…” Scylla’s voice came out raspy and rough. “Why are you doing this?”

“I have a daughter. ‘Bout your age. If she was in your shoes, I’d hope someone would help her too.”

There was something about this woman. Something calm and gentle. Something that made Scylla want to trust her even though she had every reason not to.

Scylla took her hand anyway.

*** 

Deep below Fort Salem, the Mycelium Wall stood as it had for centuries, opaque and shrouded in mystery. White wisps swirled in a crystalline mist, undisturbed by the experiment being conducted in its space. A distorted Seed sound wrapped around the participants of the cold, gray room. Although barely audible to the naked human ear, it made the witches present wince in pain. 

“This isn’t working,” Abigail huffed out, breaking her link with Raelle and covering her ears.

Izadora, whose face was scrunched up in similar displeasure, raised a hand at Scylla, who quickly shut the lid of a small wooden box. The noise mercifully ended, and the resulting silence soothed Scylla’s frayed hearing. 

“What the hell was that?” Raelle asked, fingers massaging her temples. 

“Something the Camarilla cooked up,” Scylla said from the corner of the room. “They’ve been layering it at the massacre sites.”

Leaning back up against a wall, she pointedly avoided Raelle’s gaze as she spoke. Whatever ground she and Raelle had gained with each other–in terms of getting back to…well, not normal , by any means…but to some sort of truce–had taken a major step back because Scylla hadn’t been able to say no to Raelle earlier.

“Bastardizing our Work with the dead,” Izadora crossed her arms in disgust. 

“And this is supposed to be related to the witch bomb?” Abigail asked.

“Not necessarily.” Izadora walked in a circle around where Abigail and Raelle sat facing each other in front of the Mycelium Wall. “But we had to eliminate the possibility that the Camarilla used it on the Altai Mountains, or that it played a role in your explosion.”

Abigail slumped into her chair. “So, basically, we’re back at square one.”

“Patience, Private Bellweather.” Izadora patted Abigail’s shoulder. “This isn’t an exact science. We’ll get there.”

“There must be something else,” Scylla said. “Something small you may have missed.”

Raelle shrugged up a shoulder. “We’ve been over it a hundred times. I got stabbed.” Scylla frowned. “Abigail tried to link with me. And the next thing we knew…”

“We were walking through mushroom land,” Abigail finished.

Scylla pushed off the wall and approached the Mycelium, drawn to the power in its murky depths. It resonated in the marrow of her bones, comforting and peaceful. “No.” She stopped a respectable distance from it before Izadora could object. “Something from before then.”

“We’ve established that Private Collar had contact with the Mycelium and somehow forged a link with it,” Izadora recounted.

“Yeah, she’s got a knack for touching shit she shouldn’t,” Abigail muttered, which earned her a kick to the shins from Raelle.

Scylla turned to face Raelle. “When did it happen? And why were you down here?”

Raelle’s eyes shifted to Izadora then back toward the ground. “It was a few days after the wedding. I thought I could find answers.” Raelle looked directly at Scylla, whose breath stilled. “About you.”

Ignoring the twist beneath her ribs, Scylla focused back on the wall. This wasn’t the time to unpack that tangled revelation. “Why did you touch it?”

Leaning forward, Raelle rested her elbows on her knees, idly rubbing at her left index finger. “I dunno. I just…” She shook her head. “It felt like the right thing to do. I can’t explain it.”

“And then what?”

Raelle turned up her hands. “Nothing. I had some of it on my finger, but it’s gone now.” 

“No.” Scylla began to pace. “Something else had to have happened between then and the Tarim mission.”

“She took a shitload of Salva,” Abigail offered.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” Raelle snapped, cheeks darkening. Scylla made a mental note to dig into that nugget of information later.

“Salva exits the system within 24 hours,” Izadora noted, eyes drawn back to the Mycelium. “The doses you took should have been lethal, but they weren’t.”

“Is there anything else?” Scylla asked. “Something you might have encountered, or anyone else you may have linked with?”

“I don’t know. There was Treefine when we learned about linking.” Raelle shot another look at Izadora, who only shrugged, unfazed. “Tally at City Drop.”

Abigail suddenly sat up in her chair. “Khalida.”

“Who?” Scylla asked.

“The Tarim refugee,” Izadora answered. “Private Collar cured her of the Camarilla’s poison when even our best fixers could not.”

“After you fixed her,” Abigail snapped her fingers, “you said you normally take on the disease.”

Raelle’s eyes widened. “But I didn’t.”

“Exactly. It just disappeared. Melted into the ground.” Abigail looked expectantly at Izadora, who rubbed her chin. “What if it went somewhere else?”

“The Mycelium,” Scylla breathed out.

Izadora walked quickly to her desk and pulled out a ledger. “Around that time, I observed an unusual phenomenon with the wall. It turned black for a few moments before reverting to normal.”

“Could Raelle have transferred the poison to the Mycelium?” Scylla joined Izadora to scan the notes. 

“It’s possible,” Izadora nodded, an eager glint in her dark eyes. “Did you have any other contact with the Camarilla’s disease?”

Raelle’s lips parted. “There was a boy in the mountains. I fixed him too.”

“Right before the bomb,” Abigail confirmed, swiveling in her seat.

“It’s possible the Mycelium absorbed the poison, converted it somehow, and then released the energy through Raelle,” Izadora hypothesized then let out a short laugh. “It’s the best lead we’ve had in weeks.” 

Excitement shot through Scylla. “Have you cured anyone else since then?”

“No one else has been sick,” Raelle said.

They all fell silent, weighing the potential implications of the connections they had forged until Scylla’s wristwatch buzzed, spoiling the moment.Scylla looked at the time. She would be late if she didn’t hurry and the last thing she needed was another argument with Willa. 

“I have to go,” she said apologetically.

“What? Now?” Abigail almost sounded disappointed. “We just got started.”

“Sorry, High and Mighty. But duty calls.” Scylla nodded at Raelle, who inclined her head slightly, brow creased. 

“Good work, Ramshorn,” Izadora gave her a small, proud smile before reaching out and touching Scylla’s elbow. “We need samples of that poison,” she added, her voice low.

“I’ll see what we can do.”  

Night had blanketed Fort Salem by the time Scylla emerged from the Necro facility and returned to her temporary quarters, gongs echoing in the distance to mark the start of curfew. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her, it had been a trying day, to say the least.Exhausted, Scylla ran a hand down her face, reminding herself it could have been worse. It always could be worse. 

She entered her room, wanting nothing more than to crash onto her bed and surrender to a long, dreamless sleep. But, no. She had to report back to Penelope Road. Eyeing the full-length mirror on the wall, Scylla moved to the closet and began shedding her uniform: unzipped and shrugged out of the jacket, unbuckled the belt, pulled off the shirt, and slipped out of the pants. She rummaged through the closet and fished out the jeans and light plaid shirt she had arrived in.

When Scylla was fully dressed again, she glanced at her reflection. A sense of freedom washed over her, mixed with an unexpected ripple of melancholy. Shaking it off, she tucked her Zippo into her pocket, then grabbed her journal and checked that the worn photo of her parents was still tucked safely within its pages.She pulled it out, reverently tracing their faces with the tip of her finger. Not a day went by that she didn’t wish they were still alive, wondering whether they would have approved of her path or would have been severely disappointed. Often, she feared it was the latter. 

Her mind drifted to Willa and Raelle, and their stubborness. How they had the luxury of taking new pictures, creating new memories, but would rather waste time and butt heads. It wasn’t Scylla’s place to make them see eye-to-eye. And yet…

Heart clenching, Scylla stuffed the picture back into her journal, which she placed inside a small backpack. Scylla didn’t want to leave anything of note behind, in case she didn’t make it back for a while. Or at all , her mind whispered.

The campus was quiet and still when she left the dorm, save for the occasional chirp from crickets in the grass. Scylla carefully avoided any patrols on the paths toward the pickup location at the officers’ barracks, cutting through fields and ducking behind trees when she needed. 

She was nearly in the clear, about a few hundred meters from her final destination, when a figure appeared at the end of the walkway. Scylla tensed up, expecting a dressing down by a clueless patrolwoman who knew nothing of Alder’s Accord with the Spree, only to relax when she recognized the soldier. 

Anacostia.

The sergeant, strolling with her hands linked behind her back, stopped in her tracks when her eyes landed on Scylla.

Anacostia eyed her civilian clothes and backpack. “Going somewhere?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the memo.” Scylla half-smirked as they drew closer to each other.

“Right.” Clearing her throat, Anacostia turned and fell into step beside Scylla. “Of course. How long will you… How long is the operation?”

“As long as it takes.” Scylla lifted one eyebrow. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“Oh, I’ll miss you like I miss a sharp stick in the eye,” Anacostia reassured her, and Scylla chuckled. 

A comfortable silence settled between them, their steps soft on the pavement. If someone had told Scylla a year ago that Anacostia Quartermaine would become one of her confidants, a steady rock amid turbulent waters, she would have laughed in their face. And Scylla would miss her while she was away.

“Is Willa Collar going with you?” Anacostia asked, almost hesitantly. 

“I’m not sure,” Scylla answered honestly, hitching her backup up higher. “But I doubt it. She’s too important to risk.”

“And you are?”

“Careful, Sergeant, I just might start to think you like me.” Scylla winked, drawing a scoff from Anacostia. “Does…” Scylla started to ask even though she knew she probably shouldn’t. “Does Raelle know?”

Anacostia paused. “No. But she’ll find out soon enough when we cancel your classes.”

Scylla’s chest twinged as she wondered if Raelle would even care that she was gone. Not that it would change anything even if she did.  

They reached the side entrance of the officers’ quarters, and Anacostia turned toward Scylla.  “How are things?”

“With Raelle?”

“With anything.”

“You’re full of questions tonight,” Scylla teased. 

Anacostia only blinked at her.

“It is what it is,” Scylla said because there wasn’t much else to say. “I have my mission. That’s enough. Izadora should have a promising update for you tonight.”

Anacostia’s lips parted, as if she had more to add, but instead she nodded and held the door open for Scylla, who paused before she crossed the threshold.

“Would you do me a favor?” She asked.

“I make no promises.”

“Fair enough.” It was a long shot, Scylla knew, but she had to try. Despite her many issues with Willa and Raelle, she felt she owed them at least this much. In case the worst happened. “Could you,” she took a deep breath, “talk to Raelle about Willa?”

Anacostia stiffened, grip tightening on the door. “Why?”

“Because our moms can’t come back from the dead, but hers did.” Scylla’s lips trembled slightly as she attempted a smile. “I know she’s hurt. Angry. And maybe Willa doesn’t deserve forgiveness.” Maybe I don’t either. She shrugged. “I don’t know. But Raelle could at least hear her out. Before it’s too late.”

Anacostia exhaled forcefully, tension evident in the rigid way she held herself, spine straight. “I’ll…see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Scylla said, genuinely grateful.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Anacostia muttered.

Schooling her features once again, Scylla sucked in a deep breath as she turned to leave. “Wish me luck.“ 

She was out of earshot when Anacostia finally responded with a whispered, “Good luck.” And was long gone by the time Anacostia let go of the door, flicked open a lighter, and raised the flame to her face.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Cherry Coke Special: Thirteen

“You’re sure about this, Y/N?” Bucky asked, watching you put your hair up in a bun.

“It’s a job,” You tell him, shrugging, “And I cut my teeth on worse conditions.”

Bucky frowned and watched you in the mirror. He knew this hadn’t been a job you really wanted. But your entanglement in the current turf war that was going on had had a significant stain on your reputation. It was the only place in the City that would hire you. And it was a hospital. A damn State Hospital. “Baby girl,” he protested.

“Bucky, I can’t lay around anymore. I’ve gotta have something to do,” you tell him, picking up your sneakers.

He runs his fingers through his hair, “Baby,” he protests, “I get it. I do. But... do you have to work there?”

“It’s just a foot in the door Bucky,” you sigh, feeling frustrated. “The sad truth is, everything that happened with Rory, and with you trashed my reputation... and people talk. People talk a lot. My success rate? My talent? None of that matters if I’m a drama magnet. It’s a liability suit looking to happen. It’s a minor miracle the hospital would take me.”

“What if you get hurt?” Bucky challenges.

“Workman’s comp,” you remind, “What happens if you get shot? What happens if any of the shit you’re paranoid about happens?”

“I don’t like it,” he growls.

“And I don’t like sitting at home all day. So here we are.”

You fold your arms and stare at him, jaw set, and Nova comes to sit between your feet. Sitting between you and Bucky. Even if she loves Bucky, she doesn’t love him as much as she loves and wants to protect you. You’re her mom. The Alpha Female in the house. Even if she’s a puppy, all stiff legs and too big ears and feet, she’s gonna do what she’s been trained to do and get in the way.

Bucky sighs, “If you get hurt, you’re not going back.”

“You can’t stop me,” you tell him warningly.

“I can,” he acknowledged gently, aware that he’d stepped into some dangerous territory from your tone of voice, “I just want you safe, baby.”

“Ships are safe in harbor, but that’s now what ships are for,” you tell him.

“You’re not a ship. You’re my girl,” he says, careful not to approach you too quickly, backing off when Nova stands up. In the back of his mind, he’s dimly aware that perhaps getting you a guard dog might not have been his best plan, but. He’s also glad you have her. “You’re my girl, and it’s my job to protect you.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” you sigh, “I’m a grown fucking woman.”

“And you’re mine,” Bucky says helplessly. He hates the look on your face right now. He hates that you feel like you have to do this. He hates that you’re doing this. He just. He wants you to stay home and do pretty girl things. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and turn away, “No one’s saying that I’m not yours,” you tell him, “What I am doing is going to work. I’ve got $12 left in my bank account, and I gotta start over somewhere.”

Bucky feels a muscle in his jaw tick. He’s not used to this much opposition. Someone as stubborn as him. He’d told you and told you and told you to use your credit card. And you had. Once. To buy yourself a few new books. He watches you walk out of the bedroom. He hears you telling Nova goodbye, kissing her nose and telling her to be a good girl. And his chest hurts. He feels like an asshole starting a fight with you before work. Picking at you like that. He knows that you don’t want to do this. And he respects that you don’t want to live off of him. Even if you don’t hardly ask for anything to start with. He groans and rests his forehead on his palm for a second, he should have just told you that he loved you and to have an excellent first day. That he’d bring you lunch. 

He got to his feet and sighed, looking at Nova lying in front of the door looking lost. “Nova,” he said, smiling, “I know. But Ma’s coming home. I promise.”

The puppy looks up at him with a huff and lays her head on her paws, and Bucky shakes his head, “You and your ma are both stubborn,” he scolds fondly. The dog doesn’t move her head, intent, seemingly, on willing you into coming home. 

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxed, picking up her leash, “You can come to work with me today.”

The puppy looked at him, big brown eyes slightly accusing, but when he clipped the leash to her collar, she followed. Behaving. Or at least, trying to behave the way she did for you on the way to his office. 

___________

When he walked into the building, Nova at his side, Natasha looked up from where she was giving someone the tongue lashing of a lifetime.

“You’re late,” she scolded.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, mentally adding her to the list of women that were currently irritated at him. You. His mother. And now, Natasha. Though the reason his mother was annoyed at him was sort of connected to you. And the fact that he moved you into his house and marriage hadn’t been discussed. 

He supposed it should be heartwarming that his ma liked you as much as she did. Enough that she was probably gonna cook dinner for you tonight so you could relax after your first day back at work. But right now, after the nagging phone call, he just got, and the conversation that he had with you before you left made him feel raw. 

Natasha fell into step beside him and sighed, “Trouble in paradise?” she asked.

“Nothing that couldn’t have been avoided if I shut my fucking mouth,” he said, letting Nova off her leash so she could curl up on her pillow. 

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, waiting for elaboration, and Bucky sighed, “Y/N started her job today.”

“I know,” she said, “She sent me a picture of her new office.”

“Yeah, well... I- I pissed her off this morning.”

“Bucky,” Nat scolded, “Christ. You know-”

“Yeah,” he snapped, “I fucking know.”

“Look, Bucky,” Natasha sighed, tone gentling, “This is the price you pay for having a girl that has her shit together. You have to bring your fucking A-game. All the time.”

Bucky shook his head and groaned, “I just- I just want her to be happy.”

“No,” Nat corrected, “You want her to be happy in a way that makes you happy.”

[renaer-is-allegedly-hot]

session 15 notes

Ok true crime as in my new addiction is true crime podcasts specifically about serial killers

Back to the session

 After getting a bit of a reality check from durnan about the supposed strength and power of the xanathar guild…

Protected our home w glyphs of warding

Last day of our contract

Spell is set to fade soon

Asyna is feeding ot

Ot looks at asyna like he's a cornered animal

"ot here's some meat"

Why is krystal roasting me about my lover

He wants poison

Ot is calling his jailers idiotic

Oh no aerana might be spilling beans

I really shouldn't be allowed to play games

Because I will always turn to the chaotic evil character

Aerana isn't giving anything up

Theo tells us about the plumbers who came over last night

Aerana is going to typ, rest of party is staking out house

Shifts to watch ot, adam takes front, asyna tower lookout (it's foggy tho so perception check at disadvantage, 9; city looks a little eerie in the fog)

Cel puts immovable rod across cellar door

Ot is suspicious whenever cel comes in

"you cannot fool me xanathar"

Cel making theo a new cloak

Ot asks cel when he'll turn him into dust

The xanathar can turn ppl into dust

Flare ?

Is flare the brain boy ?

I don't like the energy we've created around the word "enlightenment"

Cel rolls 18 insight check

Ot doesn't think cel is cel

Cel is gonna just vibe witth him

"WHEN U SLAY ME I WILL THINK NOTHING BUT HATEFUL THOUGHTS"

Sorry didn't mean caps but too lazy to fix

Everyone else

Adam in front hissing at neighbors and cats, 7

Hears pavement scuffle, someone approaches and reddish gtray beard person w non-descript gray cloak approaches; trench

Doesn't remember cellar and plumbers guild coming by night before

Trench says he can help

Help get bar open

Used to drink there a lot

Gets parchment and quill with ink

Rolls insight to see if bar was only thing he wasd interested in, 13, trench seems v interested

Works in surveillance, protection

Gives him cel and theo's name "5 copper please"

Gets 5

Adam picks his nose

Theo patrols entrances

13 for perception

Overlaps path w adam's

Aerana to typ

Afternoon when there

Similar pattern to those there; frequent patrons

"if I'm making up words, it's not really hitler"

8 perception

Place feels open, not as packed as it usually is

Still feel sensation of cold from the well

Wizard w pointy red hat a regular

You see goliath wizard talking to a dwarven woman

Aerana sees an elven man (bard) w "ugliest guy you've seen in your goddamn life" dom says but only after we point out he looks like legolas, tuning a lute

Sense you've seen him before

The wellllllllllllllllll

It is better told by a bard

Some patrons old and strange, others just like to drink

But ritual in the storytelling

Durnan built

Gwyliam

Talking in elvish

Place formerly not too populated

But one of durnan's ancestors came over to build upon it and discovered the well

Network of tunnels underneath

20 for history check

Familiar with some of what he's saying

Parents would throw you into the undermountain if you were bad

Undermountain = stirs weird memory in your head

Being told as a child stories of undermountain

Deep dark fearsome place

Mt waterdeep wizard came here once named hallister the black cloak

Hallister - ppl don't know where he was from / if he was real but legendary

Brought apprentices trained in magical arts

Tunneled on peak of mt waterdeep

Legend of undermountain could not be verified as truth

Durnan's ancestor came to typ

Climbed into well

"I wouldn't bring this up around him" - doesn't talk abt

When ancestor returned was fabulously rich

Split money with best friend

Built typ

Occasionally engages in ritual of going

No one truly knows what lies in undermountain but there's something there bc some return but most do not

"it might just be the sewer" - "but don't tell anyone I said that"

Differing renditions

Some say durnan was the one with magical powers and killed everyone in there, or more nuanced speaking only of tragedy of those who return who come back fearful or returning with smaller parties; others talk more of hallister and argue over his life; every night a different story

Ask if he knows anyone who's come back

Gestures to half-orc in corner playing variation of solitaire; great celebration when he returned, he came back with riches

He is a regular

21 history check

Undermountain

Familiar name

"Deepest dungeon of them all"

When sewers were built many passages abandoned bc other halls + passages found, many teams from cellars and plumbers guild died during construction of the sewers

Prisoners often thrown into "undermountain"

Says even tho he's here most days there's still stuff he doesn't understand about it; new community reforged every night

At some point durnan talking to wizard and having a conversation which is odd ? Eventually wizard looks at aerana (old man) skinny pointy red hat

Wizard squinting at aerana then turns back to conversation

Try talking to half-orc

Interesting plated beard almost like that on dwarves wrt ornamentation; jewelry running through it

Wiry half-orc

Not skinny but muscled

Weird tattoos covering one side of his face looking like they change a little bit

Balanced a little precariously

Ask if he wants to play a two-person card game bc he's playing solitaire

Ask for his favorite game, Skipper (slapjack)

Dexterity check

5, 20, 10

First round you lose, his fingers have strange looking rings beautiful but rough-worn bands of steel or other heavy metal

Second you win

Third round he takes

"say not many people can beat me in that game"

"luck favors the bold"

In the well

Hell but now look at him can gamble all he wants

City of balder's gate

Large city rough place to grow up

Turned into rough child living on streets

Says his name is Sand

Balder's gate warlords make life difficult so he decided to leave

Was found in youth by someone who turned his anger into smth holy

Ran into thieves and plunderers of forgotten relics, became brother and sister and decided to take on deepest dungeon of them all

Horrible things - asks if you've heard the song

The yawning portal song

Not many people know the full tale

Was taught to be skeptical (it's in his nature or maybe his name)

Not sure how long he was in there or didn't know when he was in there

No light

Tunnels are confusing and without it would've been lost; found room with throne with snakes for arms

Great hallway with ancient trap

Living things also in there; all manner of beasts and creatures; ppl don't come back bc of those

Killed goblins down there but after the things he's seen and after the things he'd had to do could've gone with killing a few more goblins

Advice ? Some will sell maps of what they found or what they think they've seen; anyone can tell u abt beasts down there

Durnan wouldn't lower us down

Durnan doesn’t send ppl to their deaths

Durnan lowers people he deems worthy

Strong brave smart fast bold enough or some combo

But even then not everyone comes back

It's a place of death

Not buying him lunch lmao

Has broken into dangerous old elf dungeons like in the ones up north and would do it again if he could unsee some of the things he saw down in the well

A place of death but things move in the shadows w tombs down there and tunnels for miles hallways great and tall, treasures, beasts keeping it for themselves

Ask about tattoos

Gift from master

The person who saved him in balder's gate

Steeped in magic of shadows

Powerful bc he is strong but qi is stronger still

Aerana gets back home but starts to rain heavily

Ppl still patrolling

Adam

Sees drow ? W purple colored eyes silver-ish hair hiding weapons under his cloak steps up and says "pardon me" and asks if adam's seen a cat

Large cat - would've know if saw it

Adam sends drow to trench

Adam gives him good up and down look, can he see weapons ? Carrying two cinotaurs ??? Sinotaur ???? Adam rolls insight for cat

14, seems like he's talking abt a cat

Heads off to trench

Asyna in watchtower guessing ppl's names

Cel and theo switch

Theo says hi to ot, ot curled up in corner

Whispers "hey ot what's up"

Says he should've gone with his gut on the day theo arrived

"dark elegance" "the way you glided into the room" - ot on theo

Ot says he knows how the xanathar pays theo

"I guess seeing you was a realization of my deepest fear" a fear he couldn't name or place or knew he had but out of the darkness theo stepped forward

"I'm curious . How long do you leave your victims like this"

Ot starts to cry and says he would beg her to keep him in this place

"this voice you're using I find it sweet"

"I just don't want to wake up before the end"

Theo is gonna get him food

"the poor dead tiefling told me yesterday"

7 insight

Theo does not know what's happening

Says the water theo gives him looks real

Looks at the wall drinks some water

"and it tastes real"

We kinda fucked ot up LMAO OOPS

"I know that you don’t have a heart… but if there's any chance that anything I've ever said or thought about you could take root in your soul"

Theo says she'll consider his request

Sits there for a half hour then asks if that's her real name

"nithlur" or smth like that

Nihloor

"where'd you hear that"

In his head lmao

What if this is like

A tapeworm

In his head

"what does knowledge taste like"

Asks if it's a feeling or a thought

Theo says it's a feeling

Ot says whatever knowledge is it's valuable to the right thing

Wonders if he can take a nap

Gonna take a nap

Adam forgot he made ott think he was dead

Aerana is taking over for theo

Adam takes first watch

Perception check, 22

Raining ohp so at disadvantage gotta do it again

New roll, 12

Rain is still falling

Hears a weird noise coming from outside the house

Uses thaumaturgy to boom voice saying "wake up"

Everyone sleeping wakes up

Goes toward sound

Hears weird growling noise

Goes semi-toward noise w pyrotechnics prepared; darkvision does he see anything

Sees shape

It's not the cat

Unfamiliar, looks like it's flying but more like it's floating

Bobbing up and down in air

Creature w large glassy eye and sagging mouth w lots of sharp teeth

Sticking out from form are eyes attached to a slug protruding off it w glassy eyes hanging off it

Intense stench making icky moaning noise

Adam shits his pants

It's big

The size of its mouth is human size

I've been listening to serial killer podcasts all day

[heychangbin]

Billy in Westworld ║ Part Two

Wordcount:  6,979

Warnings: Violence, language

A/N: Again, huge thanks to @something-tofightfor​  @the-blind-assassin-12​ & @lexxierave​ y’all are the bees knees!!

Taglist: @something-tofightfor​ @the-blind-assassin-12​ @songtoyou​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​  @ificouldhelpyouforget​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @christinawxxx​ @drinix​ @lysawayne​ @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

“Let. Her. Go.” There was a quiet and menacing timber to Billy's voice, eyes were full of murderous rage and trained on the man behind you, making it abundantly clear that he would not feel the slightest bit of remorse in pumping him full of lead.

"Yous dun know whose you's messin' wit stranger." Walter called over your shoulder, his hand tightening around your neck then you felt him duck back behind you. "Jus' turn 'round and be on yer way pretty boy."

Billy's eyes narrowed, his shoulder giving a slight twitch as his finger itched to move from the guard and squeeze the trigger. Instead he took a few measured breaths, exhaling them slowly as he struggled to keep himself where he stood, knowing that any hasty action on his part could mean disastrous consequences for you and despite his talent with a gun and high accuracy when it came to hard to hit targets, he wasn't willing to take a chance on pulling the trigger with you in the line of fire, risking the possibility of...he didn't even want to think about it, that's a thing he could not, would not, allow to happen. He'd had enough taken away from him, he'd be damned if you were too.

You saw the struggle in Billy's face, in the way he held himself poised and ready to strike, but with the way things were going, the way he was hesitating you weren’t so sure he would take it.

So create one. You thought and your mind raced, flooding with all the lessons Billy had embedded in you what felt like ages ago.

 0o0o0o0o0

 "Do you really believe I'll ever need all this defense training you're putting me through?" You asked Billy between heavy breaths as you laid sprawled out on the floor mat, your right arm thrown over your eyes. Your sports bra and shirt were soaked with sweat and clung uncomfortably to your body, there's nothing you wanted more than to strip down and soak in your tub, letting the hot water relax your sore muscles and wash away the grime from everything Billy was putting you through.

"I believe in being prepared." He said from somewhere above you. Moving your arm you saw him standing over you, a smirk curling the ends of his lips as he held a water bottle towards you, looking like he had when you arrived, not a single hair out of place and not even the slightest trace of sweat on his clothes.

It was completely unfair.

"Does being prepared allow for a 15 minute break?" You took the offered bottle, sitting up and twisting the cap and taking a long swing.

"Sure." He said nodding, his New Yorker accent pulling at the single word then lowered himself next to you.

There was a beat of silence as you tried to get your breathing back to normal, giving your tired muscles a break.

When Billy had said that he was gonna teach you some self defense, you thought he was gonna give you one of those pepper spray keychains, maybe show you how to throw an effective punch to disorient your (hypothetical) would be assailant, and run. Maybe install an app on your phone that would activate once opened and send out a distress call, or something that you would open once you left your work building and listened to everything around you and would alert local authorities once it caught a phrase or…something. You certainly weren't expecting him to put you through cardio training, much less him teaching you moves that would let you free yourself from holds and strikes to incapacitate.

You were breathing normally now, your arms and legs still felt like they were on the verge of falling off, when you turned to look at him and asked,

"The story Karen is working...did it really freak you out that much?"

Billy shrugged,

“New York is a dangerous city, all these...guys runnin’ around at night, helping people, they can't be everywhere at the same time. While they're over on 10th and 52nd, preventing some poor schmuck from gettin' mugged, some poor bastard over on 41st could be bleedin’ out, or some clun hoppers could be gettin’ shoved in a container at the docks. It's childish to believe that just because they're out there, that your on a first name basis with a couple of them, that one of them is your Friday trivia buddy, that you're safe. That they'll come rescue you."

You sat quietly, staring at him for a minute

"Frank said you're doing this so you won't have to worry about me when you're not around."

"Yeah, well Frankie has a big mouth." He said, but there was no real heat behind his words, making you let out a bark of laughter.

"I'm not gonna deny that it'll make me rest a little easier, ‘specially when we both have to stay out late," he paused for a minute, his hand clenching and unclenching as the quiet stretched between the two of you, "I jus’...just want you to be and feel safe...with or without me around."

You felt your heart clench in your chest and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Leaning over the small space between you and pressing your lips to the top of his cheek, then pushed yourself up and held out a hand for him to take. 

"Breaks over teach, I'm not paying for these classes for you to sit on your ass all day." You said playfully

He huffed out a laugh and took your hand, pulling himself up to his feet.

"You aren't paying for these classes though."

"Yeah, but my boyfriend is, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't approve of us just sittin' around."

You got back to it then, Billy telling you what he was going to do and how you should react. Going through the motions slow at first so that you could memorize them and they became instinct.

 0o0o0o0o0

 Billy saw the change in you, the way your eyes cleared, the determined set of your brows and lips. And he swore he felt his heart stop for the second time that day.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, prayed to god, to every saint you’d heard Matt mutter under his breath... to Tom Cruise, to the god damn universe, to anyone that was listening as you balled up your fist, putting every ounce of strength you had into it and swung it back, making it connect with Walter's crotch. He bent forward crying out in pain and in the same motion you brought up your elbow, adrenaline floods your system when you heard a sicken crunch when it made contact with the underside of his jaw. You ducked out of the way, tripping over your own feet and falling onto your hands and knees as a different crack filled the night air, silencing Walter's cries of pain and followed instantly by the muted thud of a body hitting the floor.

Before you could catch your breath, you felt strong hands grip your arm and pull you up, crashing you onto their chest, arms hugging you so tight you swore your ribs were on the brink of breaking. Relief washed over you, making your knees go weak and sag against his chest and you hugged him back just as tightly.

He pulled away from you after a minute, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders,

"You alrigh’? You're not hurt anywhere are you?"

He asked in quick succession as he his eyes scanned your face, hands running up your neck, moving your head to the side, no doubt to check your temple, where Walter had been pressing the barrel of his gun.

"I'm fine Billy,"

"You sure?" He asked again, his hands and eyes taking the rest of you in.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure." You said before he pulled you into another hug, this one gentler than the first, your arms wounding around his wait in the same motion. A sense of peace settled over you as he rocking you softly making you relax further in his arms.

"Whoa!!" Cried a too cheerful voice, breaking through the quiet that had enveloped you, making Billy pull away and step in front of you, pulling the gun out from the waistband of his dress pants and aiming it in the direction of where the voice had come from.

"I've heard of people getting into this place but you guys, you guys were on a completely different level!" The man continued, easing his horse closer and stopping a few feet away from where you were standing and were able to make out his features. He looked tall and wide, a big smile on his lips, crinkling the corner of his dark eyes, above of which sat 2 bushy brows that matched his dark hat sat on his head; the front of which was tipped back as to not obscure his face. He was dressed in dark pants and jacket, but unlike his late companions, he looked like he knew what a shower and washing machine were.

"Off the fuckin’ horse, unless you wanna join your buddies." Billy said, pulling the hammer of his gun and aimed the barrel at the man’s head. You saw his cheerful demeanor drop; hands held up in surrender.

"I-it's alright son, t-there's no need for the gun." he stuttered out as he dismounted, stumbling slightly when his feet touched the ground.

“Toss the gun.” Billy said with a slight nod of his head, “Belt too.”

The man unbuckled his belt and removed it from around his waist and tossed it away from him, landing a few feet away from him with a muted thud, a miniscule dirt cloud puffing around the discarded weapon.

"You and your friends, where were you comin’ from?"

"Sweetwater" the man said quickly, pointing past Billy in the direction that he, Rebus, and Walter had been riding from, "it's a little over an hours way on horseback. There's a stream not too far from here, it's a straight shot northeast from there."

"Take the reins." He murmured to you over his shoulder, never once taking his eyes or the aim of the gun off of the man in front of you.

"There any more like your friends there?" Billy asked, as you walked over and gathered the reins, guiding the horse away from the man.

The man's head tilted to the side, confusion clear on his face as he said, "There's all sorts at Sweetwater, it's where everybody gets off the train and starts."

Billy paused for a minute and glanced behind his shoulder to see you, catching your eye for a beat. He knows that he has to get you out of here, that he has to check your elbow, make sure it isn't broken.

"Take off your pants and boots"

"What?"

"Your pants and boots. Take them off."

He kicked off his boots and made quick work of the button and zipper of his pants, shoving them down his legs and stepping out of them, leaving the pile at his feet.

"Toss them this way."

He bent down and tosses the discarded clothes at Billy's feet.

"Much obliged" Billy says, giving the man a slight nod "turn around" Billy continues and the man does as he's told, turning around away from you, "on your knees." He lowers himself down onto his knees and you think you hear a sob.

Billy takes a few steps forward and gathers the pants and boots, handing them to you with a whispered, "change into these."

You take them wordlessly, handing him the reins and stripping off your damaged skirt as quickly as you can and slip into the pants, tightening the belt so they won't fall off your hips. Then slip your feet into the boots that feel a few sizes too big for your feet.

Billy chances a glance over his shoulder as you're gathering your discarded skirt in your arms, giving you the reins back once your upright, then walks over to stand in front of the man on his knees.

"You got a name?"

"C-craig. Craig J-johnson."

"Alright Craig Johnson, if me and my girl start walkin’ that way," he nods in the direction he had said Sweetwater was, "are you goin’ to follow us?"

The man shakes his head no so quickly you think he might make himself dizzy.

"Y'know, I wanna trust you Craig, I really do, you seem like...a decent enough guy, but your friends...they weren't good people Craig, which turns this into a bit of a percentages game…" Billy paused, looks past the man on his knees to you, his gaze tender but hard around the edges, "and...I care about her too much to take the risk."

He pulls the trigger before you can tell him to let the guy go, that he had done enough. The bullet hits Craig square in the chest, you cup a hand over your mouth to stifle a scream as he falls back with a pained wail. You expect some soft cries, a gurgle or something instead, the man screeches out,

"SONUVABITCH!" sitting up and rubbing his chest, "is it supposed to hurt this much?" The guy asks no one in particular, his voice high and cracking on every other word as he pulls his hand away, clean.

Confused, Billy aims the gun and let's out another shot, hitting him on the shoulder, his confusion growing when Craig holds and rubs at his shoulder and continues cursing. He looks over at the men he had dispatched only a few minutes before; the pool of blood around them steadily growing as the seconds ticked by.

He aims the gun for the third time at Craig's belly, and pulls the trigger, instead of the crack of the hammer hitting the primer there’s an empty click.

"Fuck" he mutters, shifting his grip on the gun and quickly striking the man across the face with the side of the cylinder, there's a loud crunch and Craig goes down, blood trickling from his nose and the corner of his mouth as he lays motionless on the dirt floor.

You looked between Billy and Craig's limp body, your throat clicking a few times as you swallow,

"Is...is he…did--?" your voice came out thin and cracked, unable to ask the question.

"He's not dead, just unconscious." Billy says, crouching down onto the balls of his feet, his arms hanging off his knees and between his legs, his head tilting this way and that, eyes squinting as he looked over the bullet holes. He reached out his hand, the tip of his finger poking through the damaged fabric, his head cocking to the side and eyes widening in shocked confusion. His hands dart to the middle of the shirt and pull at the edges, buttons pop and fly about and Billy mutters a confused "what the fuck".

Instead of bleeding bullet wounds, he sees small circular bruises, similar to the ones he's often come home with after a grueling training exercise with his guys at Anvil.

He looks over at the men that lay a few feet away, motionless and blood still slowly seeping at the lose dirt under them, then back at Craig. Something unrecognizable flashes through his eyes,

"We gotta get outta here." He says going through the pockets of Craig’s jacket, pulling out what looked to be a few pieces of paper, then pushed himself up and made his way over to where Walter lay, crouching beside him, his hands quickly working the buckle of his gun belt and pulling it off of him and throwing it over his shoulder and picking up the gun that he had been holding, tucking it into the waistband of his pants. Then walked over to where Rebus lay and did the same.

When he was done, he walked over to the two horses that had miraculously not gotten startled with all the commotion, one a rich chocolate brown with a dark mane, the other a golden brown with a black mane and dark legs. He took the saddle bags from the golden brown horse, loaded the things he had gathered from Craig, Walter, and Rebus into it; took the canteen that was tied to one of the many straps that hung off the saddle, and tugged the rolled up blanket that sat at the end of the saddle free and attached everything to the darker one. When his hands were free, he gathered the reins, turned to the golden horse and gave it a hard smack on its’ rear, it let out a loud high-pitched squeal that pierced the night air before it galloped away.

Billy walked over to where you stood, the horse trailing behind him letting out soft blows of air that puffed around it’s muzzle every few steps.

“C’mon, get on the horse, we have a long and bumpy ride ahead of us.”

“Bill, we can’t just leave him here, he’ll die of exposure or something!”

“He didn’t seem to mind lettin’ you to those!!--” he cut himself off, closing his eyes and raising his face towards the sky as if asking a higher power for the patience to get through the moment, “Let’s just...get outta here, alright?”

You just nod and on your heel, grabbing the ends of the saddle like you had seen countless times in shows and movies and try to pull yourself up, but you don't get anywhere near high enough to swing your leg over.

"Here," Billy says, stepping up behind you, his hands resting on your hips, "you gotta put your foot through here," he grabs your right leg behind the knee, lifting it up and maneuvering your foot to go through the stirrup, "now, grab on tight to the horn,"

You wrapped your hand tight on the horn of the saddle and waited for him to tell you your next step.

"When I count to three, you're gonna push yourself up on your right foot, when you reach the top, swing your left leg over and come down slow. You ready?" At your nod, he counted to three, his hands still on your hips helped you lift yourself and hold yourself up long enough for you to swing your left leg over and settle down slowly like he had said. 

He gave your leg a quick squeeze and smiled at you, then give you a crash course on horseback riding. Once he was satisfied that you had the basic cues down, he turned and mounted the other horse in one fluid movement, making the action look far more graceful than it had any right to be.

He adjusted his hold on the reins and cued the horse to move forward.

You fided with the reins a bit, Billy getting a few feet ahead of you, then as quickly as you could, you undid the straps that held the canteen and the rolled up blanket, tossing both as close as possible to Craig's unconscious body, hoping that he'd wake soon, then nudged your horse forward to where Billy had stopped to wait for you.

When you ambled up to him his eyes were hard and his jaw was set. He had no doubt seen what you did and wasn't too happy about it.

The ride was long, made even longer by the heavy silence that had settled between you and Billy. You had tried to talk to him, but by the third time he had brushed you off you resigned yourself, he was pissed. It felt like hours had passed when you reached the tree you had seen, Billy dismounted his horse with the same ease and grace he had climbed onto it, guiding the animal to the tree and wrapping the reins onto a low hanging branch.

You try to imitate Billy, standing and swinging your right leg back, you lost your balance before your leg could clear the top of the horse, foot still stuck in the stirrup, you let out a yelp and prepared yourself for impact but it never came, at least not the one you were expecting. Your back hits something warm and solid, familiar arms wrapping around your body, hands gripping you and holding you up and against his chest. 

Billy shifts your weight, freeing one hand, long arm reaching for the stirrup and freeing your foot, then slowly and gently depositing you on the ground, making sure that your left foot is free of the other stirrup before letting you go. 

“Thanks…” your voice comes out so low you doubt Billy even hears you.

He takes the reins of the horse and walks it over near the tree and wraps the reins onto the same branch as he did his horse, pulling off the bags that rested behind the saddles and throwing them over his shoulder. Settling over on a patch of dirt that was illuminated by the moon. He reached into the bags and started taking things out, bringing it close to his face to inspect then setting it on the floor in front of him, separating everything he took out, guns laid out carefully in a neat row, small rectangular boxes stacked on top of eachother next to them. He pulled out a couple more cardboard boxes that he shook, a muted rattling coming from inside, and put them in a separate pile, followed by several knives, unsheathing each and inspecting the blade in the little light of the moon, holding it up and flicking the thumb of his left hand against the edge, testing the sharpness.

“Bill?” you said as he pulled another knife from its sheath, this one larger and wider and repeating what he had done with the first. “Billy, please...stop ignoring me.”

“What?” the word had an edge to it accentuated by the harsh movements of his hands, making you think that maybe you should give him some room, some more time to cool down, but that meant letting him stew in whatever was running through his head. 

You chewed on the corner of your lower lip as you thought about telling him “nevermind” and walking away, instead you steeled yourself and took a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry...I-I couldn’t just walk away…and leave him like that, you know I couldn’t.”

That made him pause, shoulders sagging as he let out a long breath, shaking his head from side to side.

“That good heart of yours is gonna be the death of us some day." he muttered, his voice losing the hostile edge it had had, resignation laced in his words  as he shoved the knife back into its sheath and laying it next to him.

"Billy, it was just a blanket--"

"It's not just a blanket!" He shouted, shooting up to his feet, eyes a little manic as he paced back and forth in a tight circle in front of you. "It's a way for him to survive and come after us! More of his buddies with him, you can't think with that bleedin' heart of yours out here, it's a sure way to get yourself killed!”

You look away, feeling properly scolded. You didn't argue, you couldn't, you knew he was right, knew he was falling back onto eight years of military service, where everything was a mission, and the mission at hand was survive and find a way back home. 

He let out a long sigh followed by a quiet fuck as he ran a hand through his hair, gripping the ends of the longer strands at his crown for a beat before letting his hand drop to his side. Billy came to stand in front of you, placing 2 fingers under your chin and lifting your head so that you were looking at him.

"I'm sorry...didn't mean to…” he let out a frustrated sigh, the words yell, loose my temper, hung in the air unsaid but rang loud and clear nonetheless. “you gotta understand, it all comes down to us or them...and I’m gonna do everythin’ I can to have us come out on top everytime.”

You swallowed the knot that formed in your throat and nodded, "I know Billy, I'm sorry."

He pulled you tight against his chest, kissing the top of your head and saying a “it’s ok, we’re gonna be ok,” against your hairline. You stood wrapped in each others arms until your body began to be wracked by slight tremors as the temperature dropped what felt like a few degrees. 

“C’mon, let’s get you warmed up.”

He placed another quick kiss to your forehead before pulling away and going over to where the saddle bags were, picking up one of the few cardboard boxes and the larger knife he had set apart, gathering everything else and putting them back into the bag for the exception of a pair of guns, tucking them into the waistband of his pants and one of the cardboard boxes, opening it and emptying whatever was inside it into his hand and then shoving that into one of his pockets. 

He made quick work of getting a fire put together, and settling both of you against the tree on the opposite side of where the horses were tied, one of the blankets he had gathered on the floor and the other thrown over both of your bodies. 

You were leaning against the truck of the tree while Billy checked and rechecked the guns, long nimble fingers twisting the firearm this way and that pulling the hammer and releasing it back to rest, spinning the cylinder, pushing it back into the frame, aiming it into the distance and pulling the trigger, the click of the hammer hitting an empty chamber was almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire that was doing wonders in keeping you warm. 

He did the same thing with the other gun, once satisfied, he reached his hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a handful of bullets and began loading the gun. 

"Where'd you learn to ride a horse anyway?" You asked as he slid another bullet into an empty chamber.

"County fair, when I was 7, was gonna sneak outta the orphanage, steal a horse and ride out west, just like The Kid."

"Bullshit" you said, disbelief clear as day in your voice, as he pushed the cylinder back into the frame of the gun once it was fully loaded and picked up the second, opening it and loading bullet after bullet into the chambers. 

"God honest truth,” he said, smile clear in his voice as he slid the final bullet in closed it and laid it next to the first and leaning back against the tree, his left arm going around you and bringing you close. “Saved every penny I came across, had a backpack with all my stuff hidden outside the orphanage, kept my gun with me at all times though, it was one of those plastic guns you could get at the corner liquor store, the one with the bulky orange tip, silver with some swirly pattern embossed all over the barrel and frame and a wooden grip cost me like 17 bucks and I remember thinkin' it was worth every penny. Took that thing everywhere, slept with thunder my pillow. I watched every cowboy movie I could find, made a dummy horse outta some pillows and a broken chair, tore up a sheet to make the reins and everythin'. 

"On the first night the fair rolled into the city, I snuck out, took the train and a few busses, got there, paid for my ticket and everythin'. Walked around for a while, ate so much junk food I swore I was gonna be sick. Walked to the pettin' zoo part of the fair and headed over to the horses. There was this beautiful stallion, black with a white streak down the middle of his face, that's the horse I was gonna take, knew it as soon as I saw 'em, he was gonna be the one that was gonna take me across the states. 

"When they announced that the place was closin' for the night, I snuck under one of those trailer cars, hid behind the front wheels and waited until all the lights were off, then waited some more; think I even dozed off for a few. When I thought everyone was asleep, I came out, made my way over to where the horses had been, was expectin' to find stables or somethin' in the tent, but there was only some tables and boxes. Wandered around for what felt like hours 'till I found the trailer they were in; I managed to get the door open but made too much noise and woke everybody up and I knew I had to get the hell outta dodge. Almost got caught when I jumped the fence, made it back to the orphanage with a few cuts and bruises. 

"A couple of nights later, I went back and waited, didn't even get close to the trailers, one of the guys caught me by the scruff when I was crawlin’ out from under the trailer. Handed me over to the cops, then over to the orphanage…"

He paused for a moment

"They...they made sure I didn't...didn’t entertain the idea of tryin’ again.”

You hugged yourself closer to him, your arms squeezing around his middle making his arms around your shoulders hug you closer. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you Billy.”

“It was a long time ago...an...and life has more than made up for the shitty childhood I had.” he murmured against your temple before pressing his lips to it. 

“Yeah,” you murmured with a smile, “Being CEO of your own very successful private security company sounds like the best outcome to everything you went through.”

You felt the rumble of his laugh in his chest. 

“That part is pretty great…but” his hand came up under your chin, lifting your head so that you looked at him, “I meant you...meetin’ you, everythin’ you’ve brought into my life…” his tongue pokes out, wetting his lips and your hold around him tightens, “I’d do it again to have this. To have you.” 

You smile, pushing yourself the few inches needed to press your lips against his. His hand moved to frame your face and what was supposed to be a quick peck soon turns hungry and needy. You felt and heard the deep inhale he took, his chest rising and expanding under your hand as his lips move expertly against yours, hand moving into your hair to cradle the back of your head, adjusting it slightly to have a better angle. His tongue swipes at the seam of your lips and without a second thought you part them, your own coming out to tangle and move against his, your leg climbing over his making a low moan rumble in his chest, his free hand goes to the back of your knee, holding it tight against his side as he flips the both of you over, hooking it over his waist and running it up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft skin, his hips giving an aborted thrust before he pulls away, breaths heavy as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Billy?”

“We can’t—shouldn’t…” he says, eyes closed and brushing his nose against yours, “gotta...gotta stay alert,” he continues, pressing his lips to yours again, kissing you slowly, nipping your bottom lip before he pulls away from you again. 

“C’mon, you gotta get some rest.” he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and pushes himself off of you

You both resettle against the tree, the blanket covering pulled up as far as it could go without leaving your feet uncovered, his arm thrown over your shoulder, hugging you to the side of his body. 

You don’t know if its the warmth or the too long and strange day you’ve had, but your eyes start to droop, your breathing evening out, eyes closing and just before unconscious pulls you under you hear Billy whisper a soft “sweet dreams sweetheart” and feel the press of his lips to your temple, sending you off into a peaceful sleep. 

You came to in increments, noticing first the scratchy material of the blanket against your cheek and the uncomfortable heat, followed by the lack of a strong arm holding you tight against an equally strong chest. The sound of the horses filters in next, the muted clopping of their hooves on the packed dirt, and their low grunts, blows, and snorts.

You crack open your eyes and close them almost immediately, the light too bright and harsh for your eyes. You push yourself onto your back and try again, blinking rapidly to help your vision adjust. Pale blue sky filtered through the branches and leaves above, it could have been midmorning or midday, you pushed yourself up, the blanket falling onto your lap as you stretch out your arms and back, relaxing after a beat and feeling more awake. You threw the rest of the blanket off of you and next to your thigh was one of the guns Billy had kept out. In the light of day you noticed that the model was old, the metal was dark and polished as if new or its previous owner went to the extreme to keep it in pristine condition, the barrel was short and the grip a matte black. The second gun you had seen Billy load was nowhere in sight and you knew that he had left it for you to use if necessary.

You hesitated in reaching for it but then Billy”s words played themselves in your mind, the edge his voice had had was one you hadn’t heard in a long time, ever since...you shuddered despite the heat, willing yourself to not let the memory take form, to not feel the phantom weight of a hand closing in on your throat.

The sound of something cracking came from behind you and in a flash, you had the gun in your hand and were aiming it at Billy. His hands were held up

“Whoa there killa, it’s just me.”  he said, a lazy smile curving his lips. 

You let out a breath and lowered the gun, cocking your head to the side as you looked him up and down, “Where’d you go so early?”

“Did some scouting at dawn, found a stream where we can fill the canteens and wash up.”

“Oh thank god.” you sighed, relieved at the thought of being able to wash off the sweat and grime that you could feel clinging to your skin.

“C’mon, lets pack up, we can head over to the stream wash up and then head out.”

Billy held out his hand to you and you took it with your free hand, pulling yourself to your feet, and tucking the gun away into the waistband of your pants. Billy picked up the saddles that you had used as pillows and walking over to the horses, throwing them over their rumos and securing them while you bent down and picked up one of the blankets and folded and rolled it, tying it with the leather straps and tossing it over to Billy for him to put on the horse. You reached for the second blanket and when you pulled it up you froze. There, coiled onto itself where the blanket had been pushed up against the upturned roots of the tree, blending almost completely to its surroundings, was a snake, you only knew it was there thanks to the harsh rattling of its tail.

You took a step back and the snake raised itself up, the rattling only intensifying, you debated on moving further away, you weren’t sure if you were within its striking range but you really didn’t want to risk moving and it lunging at you sinking its fangs into your leg. 

There was a thwip that cut through the air and in the blink of an eye the snake was pinned down to the ground, the large knife, looking even larger in the light, Billy had kept was buried halfway into its neck, keeping it in place as the rest of its long body trashed against it, then slowly stilled. 

Billy walked over to you, taking your face in his hands and lowered his gaze until it meet yours. 

“You okay?” he asked, his dark eyes searching yours

“Yeah,” your voice cracked, clearing your throat you tried again. “Yeah...didn’t…” your voice wavered again and he pulled you to him, hugging you tight, saying, reassuring you that you were ok, his hands going up and down your back in comforting strokes.

“I thought...i thought it was gonna strike if I moved.” you said into his chest, your words shaky

"It wouldn't've...not unless provoked" he reassured you, his large hand gripping your shoulders.

"Billy it...it reared back...it was gonna…" your words trailed off, you didn't know much about wildlife, but you knew that rattlesnakes were trouble, trouble you didn't need while stuck in the middle of nowhere .

Billy was quiet for a long time and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind, after a moment he pulled away and looked into your eyes again, 

“We should get going,” you nodded and he pressed his lips to your forehead before he walked over to retrieve the knife, picking up the blanket that you had let fall when you had seen the snake, and cleaning the blade with one of the corners, and shoving it back into the sheath that hung on his belt, then folded and rolled the blanket.

He helped you mount the horse and guided you to the stream he had said, he dismounted first and came over to help you, telling you what you should do, this time when you threw your leg over you didn't have any problems, but Billy still reached out and held your waist as you came off the back of the horse. 

After billy cut off a couple of squares from one of the blankets so that you could scrub your bodies, you stripped out of your clothes, laying them neatly on a nearby rock, Billy taking extra care of setting his shoulder holster, matte black gun tucked away into it, on top of his clothes along with the spring loaded blade mechanism that he had strapped to his wrist more often than not, the revolver and knife next to them. You both made quick work of getting clean, trying to wash away the sweat and dirt clinging to your bodies. You’re scrubbing at a particularly tough stain on the crook of your elbow, leaving the skin red and tender thinking you’d give almost anything to have your favorite body wash and shampoo with you. After you both got as clean as you were gonna get you got dressed; while Billy filled the canteens you led the horses to the edge of the stream and held their reins while they drank, patting and stroking their necks and mane. 

You're ready to go when you notice Billy, crouched down a little ways away from the edge of the stream, his knife buried in the ground, a smooth rust colored rock on to one side as he tossed and caught a darker rock in his hand, every now and again making a tally mark on the ground.

"What're you doing Billy?"

"Our friend Craig said Sweetwater was a straight shot northeast of here."

"Yeah, he did, how does that explain what you're doing?"

He waves you over and quickly explains his set up, how tracking the shadow of the knife on the ground would make a makeshift compass, how the rock on the floor is a marker for East and after a few more minutes, the rock in his hand would be a marker for West, once that was done, he'd find the midpoint and mark North and South and know in what direction to go. 

As you waited for the shadow of the knife to move, Billy recounted a story in which he had had to use this same method once before due to his compass being broken and having lost his watch. Midway through his story Billy sets down the rock he had been tossing, and makes the appropriate marks he had explained and makes one additional mark between the marker for North and East. He pulls the knife from the ground, sheathed it, helped you onto the horse, then mounted his own, pulling the reins and guiding the horse in the direction he had marked on the ground. 

You rode in the hot sun for what felt like hours, taking small drinks from the canteens to keep yourselves hydrated and nibbled on small pieces of hot jerky Billy had found in the bags. 

"Well...I'll be damned," you heard Billy say next to you, his eyes squinting into the distance. "sonuvabitch was telling the truth."

You followed his line of sight, bringing your hand out and holding it against your forehead to shield your eyes from the too bright sun. You squinted into the distance, and there barely visible with the heat coming off the ground and distorting it, were familiar shapes, one of which looked like a reservoir, 

“Is...is that-?"

"Yeah...Sweetwater."

Relief floods your system making your body sag, Sweetwater, it's still a good ways away, but you'd made it. After wandering and wondering if you'd make it out of the barren plains, you'd made it.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

What He Wants (Pt. 13)

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Summary:  On going series of Bucky getting his shit together and falling in love with you.

Warnings/ Content: none, our boy is a little surly but then sweet domesticity resumes.

Word Count: 2,251

Author’s Note: Hello again lovelies. I’d never leave ya’ll with such a short installment on a weekend! And this part is a loooooong one. Our boy gets a little grumpy with you but you figure him out and get your day back on track. Fluff and some slowly building feels at the end. Enjoy darlings! I really hope everyone had a good weekend :)

If you missed the first few parts, you can read them here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

XOXO -Ash

What He Wants, Pt. 13

When you come back up, arms loaded up as full as you could get them, Bucky is no longer on the sofa. You drop your grocery bags on the kitchen counter and find Bucky out on the little balcony off of your dining room. He’s leaning over the railing for support, looking out into the woods. You leave him be for a moment to put away your groceries and let him work through whatever is going through his head. He hasn’t moved an inch by the time you join him outside and his expression is hardened compared to earlier. “What’s going on in there?” You ask him, rubbing your hand along his right arm. 

He pulls back with a scowl, “Can’t you just hop in and find out for yourself?” He regrets his words when he sees the flash of hurt across your face.

“No, because I gave you my word I wouldn’t. And believe or not I spend 90% of the time trying to not go into other people’s heads. Talk to me, Bucky.”

“Didn’t we talk enough earlier?”

“Nope, not by a long shot. Is that what this is about? You shared more than you were comfortable with?” You try to pick up on his cues to piece together what had happened. 

“So we shared some stories. It doesn’t change anything that I know your favorite ice cream flavor.”

Things were clicking into place for you, “Ah, you forgot yourself for a minute, didn’t you? When we were sitting in there together, you let yourself relax and just exist without all the bullshit for a little while. The leg reminded you of everything else when you tried to stand.”

Bucky starts to head inside, furious you saw through him so easily. “Playing house for a few hours doesn’t change a damn thing.” 

You follow him, not letting him get off the hook so easily. “No, it doesn’t change what has happened but it does change the present. You can let what HYDRA did, what they made you do, consume you and spend the rest of your life hating everything and everyone. You have that choice. Or you could try and forge a new path, make something of your life that you can be proud of.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” Buck grumbles, settling back down on the sofa to read. 

“Nope, never. And especially not on you.” Your own words surprise you for a moment. This beautiful, complicated man had really gotten under your skin.

“You’re a real pain in my ass, mouse.” His smirk has returned and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your chest. You grin at him, sensing you had won this round, and grab a book for yourself. 

You read quietly together on the sofa until the sun slips low on the horizon and you are forced to get up and turn on your lamps. Sitting back down with your book you’re interrupted by a loud growl from Bucky’s stomach. “Are you gonna make it over there?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Hey, you’re the one who forgot to feed me lunch.” He points out.

You try and remember when you ate last and realize he’s right. You blush with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I tend to get distracted. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was distracted too. But now that I’m thinking about it I’m starving. What do you have around here?”

“The kitchen is full again, so whatever you want.”

“Let’s go rummage.” Bucky says with a groan as he pulls himself up. He’s stiff and a little sore from sitting around all afternoon. He follows you slowly into the kitchen. You notice he is moving even slower than usual and worry that he’s getting more sore as the day wears on. You’ll have to try and talk him into letting you take a look at his wound later. 

As you had expected, Bucky is easy going about his food choices too. You quickly fry up a mix of peppers and onions, throwing in thinly sliced chicken breast too. The herbs in your spice rack probably need changed out by now but you make do with what you have and add some more flavor to your fajita mix. The kitchen smells divine by the time you’re plating up the food and Bucky is sitting patiently at your tiny kitchen table waiting. 

“What?” You ask him with a nervous laugh. He’s watching you so intently and you wonder how long he’d been staring. 

“Nothin’, mouse. I just appreciate a home cooked meal is all.” He plays it light. He doesn’t want to admit he had been watching the way you move around the kitchen, wanting to go to you and grab you by your wide hips, pull you back against him, and press kisses along your neck. He has no business having those thoughts and that kind of thinking would have him out on his ass before he could blink. As much as Bucky hates to admit it, he doesn’t want to leave anytime soon. He’s in a losing battle with a part of himself he had assumed long dead, the part that makes him want to pull the neckline down on your baggy T-shirt and see more of the tantalizing cleavage he caught a glimpse of earlier in the day when he woke up against you in the taxi. 

You join him at the little table, setting down a bowl of meat and veggies as well as a plate of fajita wraps in between you. You start loading up your first wrap eagerly. You hadn’t been hungry until the smell of the food you hit you but now you’re starving too.

Bucky only reaches to fill his own plate once he’s sure you are done taking things for you own. He loads up his plate and takes a large bite, not even waiting for things to cool down. “Oh my god, doll.” He moans, “This is the best.” 

You smile at his enthusiasm and the endearment. “Thanks, Buck. I make this a lot so I’m glad you like it.”

“You can make this any time you want and I’ll never complain. Do you cook a lot?”

“Mostly on Sundays so I have things to grab quickly during the work week. It’s just me so I make things in batches that I won’t get tired of by Wednesday.” 

“I can help with that, if you want.” 

“With cooking?”

“Yeah. Come on, don’t look at me like that. I grew up in a house full of women, I learned from the best. I could make you the homemade spaghetti you’ve ever had.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

“Go ahead. As soon as I can ditch the crutch you’re getting my ma’s spaghetti.”

You smile across the table at him. He is so easy to get along with when he’s like this. You’re thankful for your little outdated apartment putting him at ease. The conversation lulls as you both tucked into your meals. Bucky wipes out all of the fajitas which doesn’t shock you after seeing what his breakfast had consisted of. You are going to have to go online and set up another delivery before he clears out your meager pantry. 

Carefully Bucky gets himself back up and stable enough to take his plate over to the sink. He stares at it for a minute and you realize he’s trying to figure out the logistics of washing it himself. You hop up to take it from him. “Nope, don’t even try it. You look like your leg is bothering you again and I don’t want you making it worse. Go get comfortable with your book and I’ll wash up.” 

Bucky wants to insist, his upbringing making it difficult to see you doing all the work, but his leg is bothering him more. “I’m gonna start pulling my weight as soon as this thing heals.” He assures you.

“I know, but just take it easy for now, okay?”

Bucky nods and shuffles back into the living room. A little while later you find him curled up with the book he’s been reading, a quilt thrown over his lap. He looks exhausted and you are getting there yourself. “Can I change your bandage for you?” You ask hesitantly. 

Bucky is too tired to argue and he’s worried about how things are progressing down there anyway. He had healed from bullet wounds much easier before and he wonders how much damage has been done to his leg if it’s taking so long. He nods and you get the first aid kit from your bathroom before sitting down next to him. As carefully as you can, you pull the gauze wrapping from his leg to reveal the two bullet holes on either side of his calf muscle. They are healing quickly and are down to bright glossy pink indentations. The bleeding had stopped a while ago and the tissue is repairing itself just as it should. “You should be fully healed soon. Super soldier healing is amazing.” 

“It’s something.” He concedes, “The exit wound is gonna be a permanent mess though. It’ll heal but that doesn’t stop scarring.” 

You shrug, thinking that a few more scars are inconsequential when he could have lost another limb. You wrap his leg back up with fresh gauze and rejoin him on the sofa. The two of you read in comfortable silence until you can’t keep your mind focused on the words anymore. Bucky has started nodding off too and you tap his thigh lightly trying to rouse him. 

“Hey,” you say softly, “Bedtime. Come on.”

The very sleepy super soldier hauls himself up with a hiss of pain and follows you to the bedroom. You had thought about it all day and you just can’t bring yourself to make him sleep on the sofa like you had originally planned. Your bed is big enough to share and you are both exhausted. 

“Mouse, there’s only one bed.” He says with a yawn from your doorway. 

“I can’t make you sleep out there, that sofa sucks. Get yourself ready for bed and get in. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” You tell him as you turn to grab a nightshirt and slip off to change in the bathroom. 

You come back out and wonder for a moment if maybe you should take the sofa. Bucky is down to his black undershirt and boxers, looking mouth wateringly good sitting on the edge of your bed. You force yourself to ignore the feelings the sight of him brings up for you and notice he is rubbing the skin around the metal of his left shoulder with a scowl. 

“Sore?” You guess out loud.

Bucky nods, “I wasn’t sure since we’re sharing the bed. Do you mind if I….” he trails off.

“No, of course not. Your arm doesn’t bother me, Bucky. Not how it looks or how you got it.” You approach him, gazing intently into his eyes, wanting him to really believe your words. 

“It should.” He complains but he takes off the prosthetic anyway. 

“Why? It’s just part of you.” You are emboldened by the vulnerable look in his eyes and you run your fingers along the puckered scars of his skin where it’s fused with metal. It’s softer than you expected and your eyes never leave his as your fingers stroke his skin. You move on to give the muscles above a light rub, knowing this is a safer area that he’d let you touch in the hospital when you’d caught him from falling. 

Bucky is holding unnaturally still, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as your fingers explore his skin. He wants to kill every single member of HYDRA all over again for leaving him like this. But the gentle curiosity in your eyes, the lack of any disgust or pity, has him reeling. “How do you do that?” He asks in a hushed tone.

The quietness of the late hour crashes in on you and you are suddenly very aware that you are alone in your bedroom, both only partially dressed. “Do what?” Your voice is quiet, breathy, and you barely recognize it. 

Bucky’s right hand comes up to capture yours, not moving it from his shoulder, just holding it still. “Touch the ugliest, broken parts of me like they’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.” 

You scream at yourself not to let any tears form and take a steadying breath. “Because they’re a part of you, and you are. You’re not broken, Bucky. You’re amazing.” 

His eyes shut and he gulps at your words. “Thank you... for today. For everything.” 

“Mmhmm.” You murmur, finally pulling your hand back. You want to kiss him so badly your insides burn but it’s too soon. He is going to hate himself in the morning for the brief tenderness you had already seen, it’s too risky to push your luck. You walk around the bed to the other side and climb in, trying to give Bucky all the space he needs. You do roll over though, to face him. He slips under the covers, keeping himself to his side of the bed, laying on his back. You’ve never had a man in this bed before but the sight of him across from you seems right somehow. Doing your best not to disturb him, you curl up in your favorite sleeping position and drift off. 

Tag List Lovelies: @my-current-fandom-is @blacklightguidesnic @amazonianbeauty @ladyemofhousestark @abswritesfandoms

[shreddedparchment]

Merry Christmas, I Love You

12/25/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 6,670

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, angst, pining, jealousy, fluff

A/N: So this was initially supposed to be a Holidays-non-specific fic...but as I kept writing, it was feeling forced so I turned it into a Christmas fic because it felt better that way for writing. I’m so sorry! Anyway, I hope you like this one. I always enjoy writing for Bucky. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! xoxo

Things have never been easy for you. Family. Friendships. Relationships. Nothing, except for work.

Somehow, you’ve been able to come in, day after day, with a smile on your face, no obstacles set before you that upset the delicately crafted balance here at the Tower.

That is until the morning you walk in and something terrible—something that you could never have anticipated—is sitting on the edge of your desk wearing rough deep-sea colored jeans, organically weathered around the nicest, most bitable ass you’ve ever seen.

Okay, so maybe it’s been a while since you’ve gotten any and any semi-attractive person now-a-days seems to get your engine revving, but this guy…this man is sin incarnate and you nearly lose your step as you slide to a halt by your office door.

“What are you?” You ask, sputtering the words out senselessly only to have the Sin turn and look at you with clear blue eyes. Ice blue. A little gray. A little piece of heaven staring at you out of a brooding face, topped with what looks like freshly cropped burnt chestnut hair.

You’ve seen it long. You admired it from a safe distance. Now it’s gone but in its place is sheared perfection. He looks like a new man.

“Sorry?” He asks, his voice like chocolate fudge, slow and oozing and coating your insides with thick, sweet…oh man, you’re a goner.

“Um…” You shut your eyes, shaking it lightly to clear your head.

Not looking at the hot man helps.

Wait…you’re stupid. You know exactly who this hot man is. You just didn’t expect to ever see him this close and, in your office, sitting on your desk casually lounging around like some beefed up supermodel.

“I-I meant, what are you doing…here?” You clear your throat, clutch your legal pads a little bit closer and finally open your eyes.

He’s standing now, hands shoved into his pockets, muscled chest straining against the black t-shirt he’s chosen to torture you with, the burgundy leather jacket doing little to hide his muscle.

Who the fuck dressed him?

“Oh.” He says. “I’m working here. With you.” He explains and you nearly choke.

You start coughing again, hacking up a lung as your face burns and your chest nearly caves in.

Bucky because you know very well who he is, hurries towards a small bottle of water you keep handy on your desk and takes it to you.

You take it, try to wheeze out a thank you but cough harder. You gasp, then take a drink as he stares at you, eyes narrowed with polite concern.

“Fighhhne.” You wheeze, waving a hand at him gently to reassure him. “I'm fine.”

He nods straightening up. Just noticing how tense he was, you feel your neck burn.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in here.

“Are you hot?” You continue to wheeze, breathless with embarrassment and a strange and sudden desire. “It’s hot in here.”

Moving around him you move to the window behind your desk, a large glass panel in the glass wall of your office. You slide it open and a rush of chilly New York winter air nips at your skin.

Finally, your head is clear. Sharp. Your wits back in place. You turn to him and he’s shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“What do you mean you’ll be working here?” You ask, a need for clarity rising.

“Fury sent me here.” Bucky shrugs. “I guess Sam’s got the go ahead to start up a team and he wants you to head home base.”

You let that sink in, trying to wrap your head around going from administration duties to somewhat field duties.

“You’re gonna be my handler.” He nearly whispers, voice dropping a bit. Why is he telling you this like it’s a secret?

“Oh, just your handler?” Another voice quips but you don’t have to wonder whose it is. This voice you know.

“Sam?” You call and he comes around the small partition in front of your door.

With that charming smile, the one that has all the ladies in accounting falling to pieces with its easy confidence and promise of romance, Sam gives you a nod and stops beside Bucky.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s good to see you again. You look good. How’ve you been?” He asks, eyeing up Bucky who looks at him and shrugs.

“I’m fine.” You nod, tempted to smile. “Thanks. So, you’ll both be under my umbrella?” You nod.

“There’s a few more but yeah, it’ll be mostly me and Buck. Who best to watch over us? I thought we’d be safest in your capable hands.” Sam flirts.

“Sam…” You huff a small laugh, relaxing a bit now that there’s a buffer. Not that he’s much of a buffer. Sam is fucking hot too and if the window weren’t still hurling frozen wind at you, you’d be overheating.

Sam chuckles-“What?” Sam says—and you look out the window. There’s a small smack but when you look back up at them, nothing has changed much save for Bucky standing with his arms crossed instead of his hands in his pockets.

“…that is my name.” Sam insists, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while the man beside him broods a bit more.

“Well, first off, if I’m going to be your handler, I’m gonna need you to be a bit more professional.” Smiling you move to your desk and deposit your notepads, running a finger across the notes from your latest office meeting.

You won’t need these anymore.

“I’ll do my best, but it’s hard to concentrate on work when my handler’s just so pretty.” He teases.

You huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t change, do you?”

Sam looks down at your desk, his eyes suddenly darkened by sorrow.

You feel bad but you won’t linger.

“I’m glad.” You assure him. “Sometimes I forget how to laugh.”

And like a switch has been turned, Sam’s smile is back.

“Don’t worry. Together, I think the three of us can give the world a few reasons to smile again.” Sam nods, sincere.

You look at Bucky who stands with a frown twisting his handsome face.

“I look forward to working with you, Agent Barnes.” You offer a small smile, hoping to ease his grimace.

He looks up at you, startled, as if he’s just realized you’re there. Great. There goes that crush. Another one that doesn’t know you’re there.

“Bucky.” He says. “Please.”

“Okay.” You smile a little wider and his eyes finally focus. “Bucky. I look forward to getting to know you.”

He stares at you and he sizes you up. That small frown never leaves his face which only makes you wonder whether he disapproves of what he sees.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck.

This is not good.

As Bucky looks you over, from the tips of your red pumps to the collar of your soft gray business suit—a silk red camisole peeking out from underneath—he knows that he’s fucked.

The moment you smiled, frazzled by Sam’s stupid flirting, he knew that you’re trouble.

That look of curiosity on your pretty face…what is he getting himself into?

Bucky likes you.

He likes you a lot.

“Bucky?” You call to him, your voice wrapping around his name just so that it makes his heart pound.

“Do you even have any training in the field?” He asks, kicking himself internally that he’s on the defensive now but he wasn’t expecting this.

He wasn’t expecting to come in here to find you, a beautiful woman, clumsy and real. There’s nothing fake about you so far and Bucky can see the goodness that you radiate. He wasn’t expecting Sam to come in here, flirting shamelessly, making you laugh.

Rude bird.

You blink, slightly taken aback.

“She’s not gonna be out in the field, Buck.” Sam defends you, and that grates Bucky more.

“It’s still something she should have.” Bucky argues stupidly. Why can’t he shut his mouth up?

“I-” You begin, sounding saddened and Bucky could leap out of that window behind you if it would end this inescapable awkwardness he’s dredged up. “I don’t.”

You shake your head then bite your lip. Thinking hard while Bucky fights the urge to touch your mouth.

“I’m actually not sure why Fury sent you to me. I’ve never…I mean, I did go into training for S.H.I.E.L.D. when I first started here a few years ago but I failed out of the academy. I couldn’t get myself to do what needed doing and I—this was a better fit for me.” You bristle. “So, no. I don’t have any field training. But I’ll do my best.”

Before he can open his mouth and make this worse, Bucky sighs, exchanged a look with Sam, then turns and leaves.

As he pushes your office door open, he can hear Sam reassuring you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. He’ll come around. We’ll make a great team.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Your voice is flooded with gratitude.

Fucking Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~

You watch from your seat in the old crumbling building on two ten-inch displays as Bucky and Sam rush into the abandoned bunker. It’s not so abandoned now, filled with a terror cell known as the Maw. They’ve killed sixty people in four days and there will be no taking of any prisoners today.

“Are we sure he’s here?” Bucky asks, the feed from his body cam shows him sliding along the floor under a small break in the outer wall. Immediately inside there are five enemies.

As he stands, they fire, and you grip the edge of the fallen and splintered door that is your makeshift desk until he’s taken the entire group out. Not one left alive.

“Yes.” You answer, remembering his question. “He’s here.”

As Bucky breaks into a run down a long dark hallway, you focus on Sam’s cam and watch as he circles up over the building.

“Sam, do you see anything?” You check, knowing that he must be running his thermals.

“Just a whole bunch of cowards.” He quips. “There. Bucky, third basement down. There’s a wall weak enough to break through right behind them.”

You look at Bucky’s cam and it changes position. He’s running faster, sliding from doorway to doorway before he throws himself within one as gunfire rains down on him from an open door at the end.

You slide the big heavy laptop you use for recon over and pull up all the schematics of the bunker you’d found in your research of the building.

“Y/N, find me a way down.” He grunts, returning fire when he can.

“Already on it.” You inform him, sneaking a glance as he slides out from his hiding spot to one closer to the shooter.

His hallway ends in a T and he’s on the left-hand side.

“There.” You say, “Down that hallway to the right, straight ahead. There’s an elevator shaft that should be non-operational. You can slide down straight to the third floor and round back towards the wall Sam saw.”

Bucky is already running. As he approaches the shooter, he holds up his metal arm to block three bullets. There’s a click—an empty clip—then Bucky pounces, twisting the man’s arm to break it then he practically throws him into the wall. The man falls to the ground, but Bucky doesn’t stop.

He’s sliding on the ground towards the elevator shaft as he approaches and throws his metal hand out to dig his fingers into the wall. He slides down one floor before he releases and freefalls, then at the last moment he grabs the top lip of the floor he’s going to and swings himself in.

“Down the hall, two rights, and you should be against that weak wall.” You tell him. “Sam, status?”

You look at the other display and watch as Sam dips and dives, gunfire lighting up his cam. He throws his shield and it bounces off one thug to hit another then magnetically flies back up to Sam.

“There are civilians in that holding cell.” Sam realizes, and without a second thought he flies for it. “Six guards. I’ll take them out quick.”

“Get them to safety. I’ve got these guys.” Bucky says confidently as he rounds the last right and races for the back wall to the inner room of the final floor.

“Bucky…” You begin, fear taking root in your heart as you think about the fact that Sam will be too busy with those civilians to come quickly.

This isn’t your first time out with them. You, Sam, and Bucky have been together for a year now. One whole year.

Somehow, you have been an asset to their team. Sometimes Sharon comes along, sometimes there’ll be a few others. But at the end of the day it is always you, Sam, and Bucky.

You’ve been there when Sam broke his arm. When Bucky dislocated his shoulder. When they were both shot. When Sam wouldn’t wake up for three days. You’ve been there for every after mission dinner. You’ve been there for every holiday spent in safe houses and hospitals.

Bucky and Sam had even bought you a cake when your birthday came around and all three of you ate it on the tower roof, both men still in mission garb, sitting on the ramp of the jet.

Through it all, though you always worry, there is only one thing that makes you lose focus. One thing that has brought you to Fury’s office several times to resign because you can’t do this job. Not like this. Not when you’re this distracted half the time.

When Bucky’s in danger, your heart stops. When he’s injured, you’re nearly in tears. You’d cried that first time he was shot, but luckily Sam was shot too so really, you managed to pass it off as sorrow for both of them.

The time Sam wouldn’t wake up, those tears were just for Sam…but Bucky was pretty torn up about it and you’d offered what comfort he was willing to accept which wasn’t much.

Bucky has kept you at arm’s length this entire time. Welcoming enough to make you feel like part of the team, but far enough that you’re pretty sure he still think you’re absurdly underqualified for this job.

You’ve watched him with his other teammates, even the ones that randomly come by, and he’s not with them like he is with you.

Watching him team with Sharon or T’Challa, you can see the difference.

He likes them. He doesn’t simply tolerate them.

Despite this disappointment, it does not fail. Every time that he’s taking on too much, your focus goes straight to him.

You pull his cam footage closer just as the wall in front of him explodes.

Cement and iron rain down on him and the hallway, rumbling as the building groans with the loss of support.

You stand, pushing your chair back hard as you clutch the display closer.

“Bucky!” You call, seeing nothing but darkness. “Bucky? Get up.”

Voice rising with panic, you blink hard, trying to see through the cloud of dust in the darkness in the screen.

“What happened?” Sam demands, returning fire at the thugs he’s facing.

“The wall exploded out.” You say, quiet because you can’t breathe.

There is no movement. Bucky isn’t moving.

You don’t give yourself enough time to think.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks, but he’s too busy to do anything about it.

So, you do.

Flipping open your bag, you pull out the handgun you’d been issues when you took this job and run. Down along the stairwell from your safe room. Across the street towards the bunker, along the small alleyway beside it to the back where the original entry point had been made.

You keep an eye on the display you’ve brought with you and watch as the rubble shifts. You see a gleam of dark metal and see that it’s Bucky pulling himself out of the pile, but then there are more glints of sleek black metal.

Guns. At least eight of them, all pointed at Bucky.

“Fuck.” You push yourself faster, ignoring the way your legs protest.

Your tac pants tear as you finally enter the building, catching on exposed reinforced metal piping and wood.

You’re not even careful about your running. You don’t look around for enemies. You don’t care. You have one goal and that’s all that matters.

You enter the T and race for the elevator shaft. A final glance at your display tells you that they’ve got Bucky kneeling in the rubble he’d been buried under. All of the other thugs in that room have their guns pointed at him, one man stands a little taller than the rest. No gun in his hand, but a long serrated knife. He’s talking, smirking down at Bucky as he squats down before him to run that knife’s point along the seam of Bucky’s metal arm.

Dropping the display, you reach for your belt hoop and pull from it a compact grapple. You shove it into the floor by the open elevator shaft and throw yourself down without hesitation.

You fall quickly, reaching the third floor in less than five seconds.

You have to release the cable in order to stop and you use the momentum of your fall to swing yourself into the doorway.

Landing hurts but you’re on your feet, racing down the hallway as fast as you can.

Instead of taking two rights however, you take one right, then a left.

They aren’t expecting you to barrel in through the door they’d been facing. Their only defense had been on the wall Bucky tried to go through.

So, when you shove the door open, you aim and kill one, two, three guards with quick precision shots.

That’s when they turn, and you run to take cover behind a tall steel shelf.

Bullets bounce off the metal as they land near your head.

On the other side, in the room that you can no longer see, you can hear Bucky fighting. His metal arm deflecting bullets and slamming these thugs into the floor.

The shooting at you stops so you peek out and aim. You get one of them in the leg, the other in the gut. You’re about to fire again, killing a fourth, when a loud pop and a burning sensation pierces your arm.

You cry out, and duck back behind the shelving out of sight.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouts, the scuffle between him and his enemies increasing in pace.

There are fewer grunts and they’re moving closer.

You groan, holding your hand over the wound in your arm but force yourself to peek out again, this time aiming where the shot that hit you came from.

Distracted by Bucky’s approach, the man behind the name of Maw doesn’t see you aiming at his head.

Before you can fire, your arm falls, losing strength and the shot goes through his neck.

He sputters and chokes on his blood, falling to his knees just as Bucky finishes with the last of his goons. He moves to the man and with one swift flick of his arm, the man’s neck breaks, and he falls to the ground, unmoving.

Your eyes are on Bucky, scanning him for injury as you press your hand harder against your own wound.

He’s okay. You gush stupidly. He’s not hurt.

A small scratch on his cheek. Otherwise, he’s fine.

And he’s suddenly at your side.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, voice hard and angry.

“No.” You tell him.

“Let me see.” He pushes your hands away and stares down at the hole in your arm.

As blood gushes out, he reaches down to his belt to pull a heavy but thin cord that he begins to wrap high on your arm. It hurts. It pinches. It’s too tight.

“Ow.”

“No shit.” Bucky growls at you. “Sit still.”

You do, not having realized that you were squirming.

“What the hell did you come in here for?” He demands.

“You were in trouble.” You explain, leaning your head back to watch him finally tie the tourniquet. “And Sam was busy.”

“I coulda handled it.” He’s clenching his jaw, flexing the muscle in his anger as he reaches down to pull what looks like a small syringe from a small pouch on his belt.

“It’s okay to need help.” You tell him calmly, loving the way his brow is furrowed in concentration.

“I don’t need your help. Not here.” He chastises, pushing the tip of the syringe into your wound to press in what looks like powder. It hurts but you’re starting to not feel much of anything.

He tosses the syringe away and begins to wrap up your wound with a small roll of bandage.

“This isn’t the right kind. We’ll have to get you back to the Tower quick.” Bucky sighs.

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask him, feeling woozy and finding that filter that you usually use strange absent.

Bucky frowns, then gets up and reaches down to help you up.

He tucks you underneath his arm and supports most of your weight as he leads you out, refusing to answer your question.

“Y/N okay?” Sam’s voice filter in through your comms.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Lost a bit of blood though. Faster we get her back the better.” Bucky says, cutting you off before you can answer.

“Just getting these last few civilians out. I’ll meet you at the jet. Two minutes.” Sam promises.

The trek up the stairs is exhausting. You’re dizzy and tired. The adrenaline is wearing off and you find yourself leaning against Bucky more and more the higher you climb.

When the freezing air hits you outside, your head clears for a moment and you remember that you ran out here without your coat.

It’s freezing.

You look up with your mouth wide open. It’s snowing!

“It’s snowing.” Way to go, brain.

Bucky frowns as he looks up and with you struggling to keep up, he stops. He wraps his arm more securely around your back then with his other, quickly dips to pick you up.

You groan when the movement jostles your arm but lay your head on his shoulder anyway.

“I like it here.” You whisper, stupidly talking without thinking.

You place your hand on Bucky’s chest where you can feel his heart pounding. Absolutely thrumming against his ribcage.

“Were you scared?” You ask him, wondering if Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, can really get scared.

For a moment he says nothing. Then, “Yes.”

You nod. “It’s okay.”

“Stop talking.” He chastises, just as your body is engulfed in warmth.

Not even two second later, your entrance into the jet is followed by the soft whoosh of Sam’s wings and then his feet as he climbs in and moves towards the pilot’s chair.

“She okay?” Sam asks, glancing at you as Bucky settles you into a seat and straps you in.

“She’s a little delirious but she’s okay. Should be fine as long as we get her back soon. She needs stitches. Bullet went clean through.” Bucky says, focused on your arm as the jet pulls away.

“I like you.” You tell him. Blinking slowly as his fingers stop fumbling with your bandage.

He looks at you, ice sapphire eyes burning into your own with a million unasked questions.

“Why do you hate me?” You wonder, feeling sleepy.

“I don’t hate you.” Bucky explains, brow furrowed with subdued anguish.

“I like you.” You tell him again. “I want you to like me back.”

Bucky opens his mouth but shuts it again, looking over at Sam who seems to be intentionally ignoring the two of you.

“Sometimes I think about what it would be like to kiss you.” You continue, words slurring together as the shock of being shot catches up with you. “Kiss me.”

You see him leaning up towards you just as your vision turns black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Recovery is a bitch.

You hate having to wear a sling. Especially because you’re decommissioned from field duty for a while. Bucky and Sam don’t stick around. They make sure you’re okay and then they go off on their next mission.

Sharon is brought in to help. She takes your job.

You watch two days later as they come into the small shared space in Tony’s old lab where you had set up home base for them. They walk in and head straight for the mission board—a high tech computer screen with touch—and sift through a few open cases.

They don’t seem to see you sitting on the sofa by the kitchen, wrapped up in a blanket, sipping hot cocoa.

You watch them, taking in their dynamic. Sam is just as playful with Sharon as he is with you. They seem to have a deeper connection though. A shared sorrow. All three of them do.

The biggest difference is Bucky’s demeanor. He smiles more. He’s laughing at something Sharon said.

Your chest aches. Wondering if maybe this is what’s for the best? He seems to be more at ease with Sharon there to support them in their missions. She’s got the skill.

You’ve read her file. Part of it. The parts you were allowed to read.

She’s amazing.

Much more qualified.

“You’re coming, right?” Bucky asks her, watching her as she stares at the board.

“To what?”

“The Christmas party.” Bucky tells her. “It’s tomorrow night. We should be back by then.”

“Why would I come to the Christmas party?” She asks, a laugh in her voice.

“Because it’ll be fun.” Bucky reasons, then turns to Sam and nods at her. “Right?”

“Yeah. Pepper’s got Happy planning the whole thing. We might have to surrender our IDs when we come in and consent to a pat down but there’ll be plenty of booze. Music. Dancing.” Sam teases her the same way he teases you.

She laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

“It’ll be more fun if you come.” Bucky continues, reaching out finally to pull on her sleeve. “Come.”

You curl up a bit more, shrinking into the cushions of your seat. Hating the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

Of course, he’s going to like her. She’s Sharon Carter! Great niece to Peggy Carter. A legend in her own right.

This must be why he never brought up what you’d said in the jet. You were slurring and mostly out of it, but you knew what you were saying.

You’d finally told him. You like him. You do.

And he hasn’t said anything about it.

You shift too far to the left and your arm grazes against the cushions beside you.

You gasp, shocked by the pain.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice calls out.

No.

You blink hard, hoping they look clear and not like you’re pining for Bucky Barnes.

Sam rounds the sofa and smiles down at you.

“Why are you hiding out here, making no noise? One gunshot wound and you think you’re a world class spy?”

You say nothing. You’re in hell. You just look up at him.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, moving to sit beside you.

“Y/N is here?” Sharon asks, moving towards you.

Fuck.

When she comes into view, you can see she’s wearing a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. body suit. Winter edition so it’s a little thicker. White pants and top. Gray straps to holster her guns. That’s empty right now.

“Hey, long time no see.” She smiles at you kindly and you force a smile in return.

Sharon is nice. You’ve always like Sharon. She’s kind and friendly.

“Yeah.” You say stupidly because it’s the only thing you can get your throat to work out.

“Heard you were shot saving Bucky’s ass?” She offers, looking over her shoulder at Bucky who finally moves towards you.

You shake your head once, that smile still plastered in place.

“Are you not feeling well?” Sam asks, reaching out to place his hand on your back.

You shake your head, letting the grimace that your poor heart is feeling seep out as discomfort in your arm.

“I’m gonna go…” You tell him, voice quiet and strained.

As you get to your feet, Sam helps you. You don’t see Bucky.

You know that he’s there, standing somewhere behind you, but you don’t want to turn to see him. What’s the use?

“You need help getting to your room?” He asks, but you shake your head. “Okay.”

You move past him and don’t look back. You don’t stop until you’re in your room, door shut behind you.

Moving into the bathroom you wash your face with your one hand, trying to clear your mind.

As you shut off the water you hear your bedroom door click shut.

“Sam?” You call and follow the sound back into your room.

But there’s no one there. It stands empty, just as it was when you came in.

As you move to take a seat on your bed, your eyes spot a small bottle of pills on your bedside table.

You grab them, quickly reading the label because these are not your pills.

Take two tablets every eight hours as needed for pain.

Rising to your feet, you move for your door, throw it open and look down the hallway to catch Sam to thank him before he can get too far but your voice catches in your throat as you watch wide shoulders and a glinting dark metal arm walk away from you.

With his delivery done, Bucky leaves you without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wincing you slip off your sling and reach down to straighten your dress. It’s short. Shorter than you’d thought it was, but it’s pretty, with long loose sleeves that cinch at the wrist. Dazzling white with silver sparkles stitched into the soft fabric.

You’d seriously considered sitting out this party. You aren’t exactly in the mood. Not happy. Not comfortable. Not in the Christmas spirit.

Rejected, your mood has taken a sour turn. You’re mostly sad all the time which is hard enough but with the pain in your arm, it feels worse than it actually is.

However, you’ve never missed a Christmas or Holiday party since you’ve started working here and you’re not about to start now.

When you finally arrive, the party is already in full swing.

Pepper and Happy have outdone themselves, turning the largest ballroom in the Tower into the prettiest winter wonderland that you’ve ever seen.

All the tables are covered in gleaming silver and white tablecloths, decorated with assorted bobbles in silvers, whites, pale blues, and grays. White lights are strung up along the ceiling and left to dangle in carefully placed icicle patterns, more clear baubles with shining white lights at the center adorn the spaces between the tables where people chat and eat merrily with golden forks, knives, and spoons.

There is no red holly or green garland, but all around the room you can see the soft green and white splash of mistletoe hidden in small nooks and over random spots in the room.

“Y/N!” You hear Sam’s voice before you see him and search the room for him. “Over here!”

He waves at you from across the room near the large metal door that leads out into the hallway that’s lined with an endless stretch of conference rooms.

He looks dapper in a velvet black tux, silver bowtie around his neck.

You smile at him and move towards him but as you cross the table comes into full view and you see that Bucky is sitting beside him to his left—looking sinfully good in a navy tux, white dress shirt, and a black bowtie. Beside Bucky sits Sharon, in a red satin dress with capped sleeves and a round neckline.

Her dress, as you approach and she stands, you can see if floor length and she looks absolutely beautiful.

“Wow.” You tell her. “Sharon, you look amazing.”

Sharon blushes. “Me? Anything looks good when all you wear is tac gear. Look at you! You’re stunning!”

You almost look at Bucky but stop yourself just as your head tilts.

“Have you eaten yet?” Sam asks, moving around the table to pull out your chair, sitting you right across from Bucky.

“No.” You admit.

“I’ll go get you a plate.” Sam says.

“You don’t have to. I’m not really hungry.” You tell him.

“You have to eat.” He chastises. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you, disappearing into the crowd as Sharon scans the crowd.

“I’m not hungry.” You repeat to no one in particular. Just talking because you’re nervous as hell and you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.

“You have to eat.” He says, and finally you look at him.

He’s watching you, those blue eyes more ice-like tonight because of the décor that surrounds him, but for once he doesn’t look like he’s angry. His face is carefully controlled. A small curios tilt of his head as you stare at him and say nothing.

“Bucky!” Sharon exclaims. “Pepper’s here. Let’s go say hi.”

She smacks his arm and moves around the table to head over towards Pepper, escorted by an adorable Morgan wearing a bright red dress with tulle for days. She doesn’t look happy about it.

“I’ll be right back.” Bucky tells you, and you turn to watch him get up and refasten the button on his front and move after Sharon.

Left alone, you feel yourself beginning to relax. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all, right? Bucky doesn’t like you but he’s not hating you either. Sharon is as nice as always and Sam as attentive, but you know he’s only fussing because you got shot.

You’re beginning to wonder why he’s taking so long with that plate of food—not that you want it but you’re getting lonely over here—when you look around towards where he disappeared to and spot him chatting up one of the girls from accounting.

She looks absolutely flustered and it makes you smile. Good for her.

You scan the crowd, looking for Sharon and Bucky to see if they might be on their way back and find them standing with Pepper, Morgan in her arms.

They’re chatting pleasantly for a moment before Happy leans in to say something to them.

Sharon looks confused, Bucky a little nervous.

Happy points up above their heads and your heart drops.

Sharon and Bucky look up to find a cluster of mistletoe strung up above their heads, nestled between two large silver baubles.

Happy holds out his hands, shrugging, but clearly enjoying himself.

Pepper is also smiling, all of them finding the moment utterly entertaining.

Look away, Y/N. You try to tell yourself, but your eyes are glue and your heart is pounding.

You try to swallow but your mouth is too dry, and your throat is clogged up. A lump the size of your fist settled right within it.

You watch as Sharon grabs Bucky’s bicep and leans in towards him. He leans in too, faster and much more eager.

They kiss.

You’re shattered.

As they pull away quickly, Bucky reaches up to wipe at his lips with his fingertips and cautiously seems to glance your way.

He sees you watching and stands up straighter.

You look away, rising to your feet as quickly as you can and move around the table to head straight for that metal door.

“Y/N!” Bucky calls but you can’t stop now. Not with your heart in your throat.

The quiet of the hallway is welcome and you hurry towards the first door you see and pull it open. Inside the conference room, the blinds are drawn, and no one will be able to see you in here. The long black glass table and the sterile silver rolling chairs that line it are familiar, but you really wish you were in your room right now.

This place gives you no comfort.

You look up, spot another set of large glass doors and sigh, knowing that there might be some comfort out there.

They lead to a balcony, a small one, and as soon as you move out onto it, cold winter wind freezes you.

It bites at your skin, harshly drawing your attention away from your aching heart pain.

The wind whips your hair, making a mess of the careful style you’d tried to put it in.

Shutting your eyes, you sigh once again, hoping that this ache…this broken heart will mend quickly.

All of this started as a lusty dream. A quick bit of desire conjured up when you’d walked in and spotted Bucky sitting on your desk.

How had it grown into something more meaningful? Why do you have to like him?

The sound of the door opening turns you around and you see Bucky look inside. He nearly turns to leave when he spots you on the balcony outside.

He stalks towards you, feet stomping on the floor. He throws the balcony door open and lumbers towards you with intent before wrapping his right arm around your waist to pull you tight against his body.

His metal hand takes hold of your bicep and he pulls you to him roughly as he leans down to kiss you hard.

Startled, for two seconds all you can do is stand there as his lips move against yours, warm and wet. When his tongue slides along your bottom lip, you melt into him and shut your eyes to finally return his kiss.

His metal hand tightens, and you pull back, “Ow.”

Confused, he looks at you, then his hand as you curl that shoulder up.

“Shit.” Bucky exclaims. “Sorry. Fuck.”

You laugh. “Ow…”

He releases you and looks at the spot where you’re shot and watches as a small patch of red begins to grow.

“Damn it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I…I forgot.” He explains.

He meets your eyes and he seems to regain whatever determination made him pull you to him so hard.

“It was mistletoe.” He explains. “That’s why I kissed Sharon.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you run?” He demands.

“Because it sucked.” You explain. Duh!

“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N.”

“Me too.” You nod.

“I only want you.” Bucky sighs, reaching up to caress your frozen cheek.

“Me too.” You smile.

The side of the Tower suddenly flares to life with millions of tiny Christmas lights, bathing the two of you in warm yellow light.

You both admire the sight for a minute, appreciating the beauty.

“Merry Christmas.” Bucky says, drawing your eyes back to him as he wraps his arm around your waist tighter.

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him, smiling as you lean in to kiss him again.

“I love you.” He sighs, stopping your advancement as your heart nearly bursts through your chest. “Be mine?”

You laugh once, giddy beyond belief. “Yes.”

Bucky smiles.

“I love you, too.” You promise, and he pulls you in for a kiss, this time carefully avoiding your wounded arm.

“Well it’s about damn time!” Sam says, both you and Bucky stopping with your lips barely touching to look over at the large balcony doorway.

“No kidding.” Sharon says, smiling at the two of you with a smug little smirk. “Good call on the mistletoe.”

Sam smiles proudly. “They needed the push.”

You glare at him, feeling a little spiteful at the hell you just went through to find this heaven.

“Excuse you?” You warn.

“Oof, I mean, dance, Agent Carter?” Sam asks, offering Sharon his hand as he selectively avoids your angry gaze.

“Uh…yeah, good idea.” She takes his hand and lets him lead her back inside.

Bucky chuckles but reaches up to take hold of your chin and turn you to face him once more.

“I’m gonna have to buy him a better present.” He laughs, then leans down to kiss you silly.

The end.

[thwippyparker]

Try To Fix You- Chapter 2

TW: Abuse

Masterlist

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 3, Chapter 4,  Chapter 5

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Eventual Peter x Reader, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, ANGST

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

When you woke up you were wrapped in Peter’s arms, face pressed against his bare chest. You could hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart and feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His hair a crown of chocolate curls and his freckles barely peeking out, letting you know he’s either been in the Spider-man suit too much or just not getting enough sun. Growing up you swore he had constellations on his face, a gift from whoever may be up there just adding to his beauty. He may be your best friend but even you had to admit to how handsome he was, especially now. “What are you doing? You literally were at the police station today putting a restraining order on your fresh ex! Now is not the time to be thinking like that.”

You laid your head back down on his chest as you continued thinking. He had grown since the last time you saw him, became more manly. He was nothing to shrug at after the whole Spider-Man transformation but now everything was more defined. You would be lying if you were to say you had never thought of trying to go the next step with him but the timing was never right and then you had the big fight. Your heart broke a little every time, even to this day, that you went past Aunt May’s because you figured he would never want to speak to you ever again. The worst thing though was when you had to cut Aunt May out because it hurt too much to have to constantly side step the huge neon elephant in the room or have her continually bring him up. She had been like a second mother to you most of your life and when you thought you had lost Peter for good you hadn’t anticipated losing Aunt May as well.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Peter’s arms flex and tighten around you. He took in a deep breath and sighed before brushing a piece of hair out of your face. You looked up at him and moved away slightly, ignoring the hurt look that crossed his face when you did. You got up to go to the bathroom and get changed, trying your hardest to avoid even gazing in the mirror, hating even the thought of how you must have looked. Your whole body hurt, but your face felt especially tender. You quickly got changed into a pair of ripped jeans and a flowy top, brushed your unruly mop of hair  and exited the bathroom to hear Peter tensely talking to someone on his phone.

“Don’t fucking call me or her ever again. She put out a restraining order for a reason and you are so lucky I don’t hunt you down right now and make you feel how she does right now. If you call either of us again, I will call the cops for violating the order. LEAVE HER ALONE! You are done hurting her for as long as I’m around. Understand?!” Peter looked over to see you and quickly hung up the phone. He crossed the room in mere seconds to you and hugged you, his mood immediately shifting.

“I am so sorry you heard any of that, I was trying to finish the call before you got out. He wouldn’t stop calling and I had 12 voicemails from him and I can’t imagine how many times he’s called you an-” you immediately began sobbing into his now clothed chest and he stopped in his tracks.

“It’s all too much, Pete. What if he hurts me again, or you? I couldn’t live with myself. I should’ve just figured this out on my own and left you out. May already probably hates me and now that I’ve gotten you into all of this if you get hurt, she’ll hunt me down. And even if she doesn’t, he will. He won’t stop, Peter. He said so himself, he’d rather see me dead than not with him.”

“Hey, I won’t let anything happen to you. Remember in 7th grade when Flash tried to kick mine and Ned’s asses and you punched him in the balls. You said, and I quote ‘No one lays a hand on my friend and gets away with it.’ It’s the same thing. Flash was much stronger than you and yet you did what was right because you cared about us.  The only difference in this situation is that I’m way stronger than him and this is the one time I think I’d ever use my Spider strength selfishly. I never want to see you look like how you did last night ever again. You know eventually we have to talk about all of this, right? Not including the basic catching up and talking about what happened the last time we saw each other?” He gently stroked your hair to calm you down as he hugged you tighter.

“I know….. Can we do that after I figure out some stuff? Like where I’m gonna live now,” you asked, trying not to get stressed out at the mere thought that right now, you were homeless.

“No need to rush, but when you feel up to it. And I was actually going to talk to you about that…..” He seemed hesitant, like he was second guessing whatever he was going to say, “You know how we always talked about getting an apartment together? How about you move in here? I have a spare room and I’ve been looking for someone to put in it since Ned moved in with Betty. You’d be doing me a favor, helping split the rent, make it not so lonely here. I could even be your bodyguard and give you some piece of mind.” 

“You would really want that? Even though we haven’t talked about,” You gesture broadly, “everything else?”

He looked offended and scoffed, “N/n, come on. Act like you know me even a little, of course I want that. If I’m being really honest with you, I’ve missed having you around. Even with all the crap going on right now and your scum bag ex, I’m just glad you’re here. I was afraid when you called that you were….”

You hugged him close because you knew what he was going to say and it made your heart sink. He thought he would end up having to attend another funeral for someone he loved. After his parents and Ben, it was a valid fear. “I’m sorry I scared you,” you said, hoping he knew how much you meant it. The last of your tears fell and you took in a shaky breath.

The two of you stood there for a while while your tears dried, he was smoothing your hair and swaying you. Eventually his stomach growled and it made you chuckle. “Why don’t we get some grub, Spider-boy,” you teased as he gasped in fake shock.

“How dare you, y/n. That might’ve flown when we were kids but I’m a man now,” he faked a bravado and tried to strut but ended up tripping on his pair of pajama pants on the floor. His face flushed bright red as he kicked the garment away from him.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your best friend, “Maybe this whole roommate thing will work for the best.” He was rubbing the back of his head playing with his hair when you decided to quip back, “Sure ya are Spiderling, come on, I’m hungry too.” 

You both walked to his kitchen, you choosing to sit at the counter while he pulled out a pot and filled it with water. “Mac and cheese okay?” He asked pulling 2 blue boxes out of his pantry. 

“Only as long as they’re -” But he cut you off mid-sentence to finish the thought

“Shaped like something, yeah, yeah. I remember.” He stuck his tongue out at you as he changed out the original boxes for superhero shaped noodles. You couldn’t help but belly laugh at how he just had mac and cheese shaped like people he had worked with to save the universe on several occasions. “What are you laughing at,” he asked, “sometimes I babysit the kid at the end of the hall. I bought these for him.” His blush gave it away though. The nerdy, childish Peter was still very much alive and well. Even if he did have his own place.

“Sure you did, Pete. Tell yourself whatever to try and make yourself seem more mature. WE both know that isn’t for ‘the kid at the end of the hall’ ,” you said using air quotes to further cement your disbelief. You dropped your head down to look at your nails, anxiously picking at them. “But it doesn’t matter one way or another. I’m glad you have it, normal mac and cheese sucks.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes to see if he was looking. When your eyes connected, you looked back down at your hands. “So… how’s Aunt May?” 

“She’s doing alright. She asked about you recently, thought she mighta seen you passing her building but she wasn’t sure because of the hairdo and the clothes. She said the girl she saw looked more like a boy or someone androgynous with the get up and all. I was meaning to ask, why’d you cut your hair?” You always liked your hair long, especially after a particularly traumatic hair cut in middle school when you thought you would get a pixie cut. Since then you’d only ever trimmed it and had hair that fell down to your waist throughout much of high school and college. 

“After Harry,” saying his name burned your tongue like sulfuric acid, “used my long hair to pull me back and slam me down on the ground, I decided on a hair style to make that harder. I decided on a modified “fuckboy” haircut because it gave him a very small patch to be able to grab onto and I kept it short to make it harder with his big hands. He had hated it and it caused another fight but he stopped trying to pull my hair, so I guess it was worth it. And regarding the clothes, he didn’t like me wearing anything that you could see my curves in,” you stated with a shrug.

Peter was tense and went to add the noodles to the boiling pot of water. He gripped the granite counter top tightly and you could see he was holding back in how his back and shoulder muscles tensed and tightened under his t-shirt. He stirred the noodles and then rubbed the back of his neck. You were getting really nervous. You knew Peter would never hurt you but this was bringing back really bad memories. You knew he would be upset at the revelation, but that he wouldn’t even look at you… “He must be ashamed to be my friend… to be friends with someone so weak... so pathetic… it’s gotta kill him”

“Pete? Are you okay? You’re scaring me a bit.” He didn’t answer and instead went to get a glass of water, you could see that his jaw was clenched as you saw a side view of his face. But he was refusing to look at you. A million thoughts started flying through your brain as your mouth betrayed you and let out the smallest noise. “Petey, please…..”

He took in a deep breath and turned to face you, tears welling in his eyes. “Y/n, why didn’t you call me sooner? Why didn’t you leave sooner? Why didn’t you talk to anyone? Did you honestly think that even if I hated you I would want you to live in that hell? Especially after what I told you before the big blowup? Y/n, I told you I loved you. Love love, not just as a friend or a sister. And you told me you couldn’t be with me. I didn’t cut you out then, I still wanted you in my life. And that hurt like hell. But, if I wanted you in my life then, what made you think I wouldn’t come and save you the minute he laid a finger on you?” The timer went off so he went to take care of noodles and finish cooking the meal, not giving you time to respond. When he was done he dropped a bowl on  the counter in front of you. “I’m gonna go to my room, I’ll be there when you want to talk.” He began to walk away but you grabbed his arm and motioned for him to sit at the counter with you.

“He threatened you, the Spider-man you. I swear I didn’t tell him, but he threatened to reveal you and hurt May and Ned… He also constantly told me no one would ever love me but him, that I’m so terrible that that’s why my dad left my mom right before I was born, and that if I ever left, he would kill me and then everyone I cared about. After a while, I believed it all. And then he knocked up someone 7 years younger than us. She literally turned 18 three months ago and she’s pregnant with his child. And this attack was the most vicious because I decided to call his bluff. I know you would’ve saved me but in those moments of weakness, I felt completely alone Peter. I couldn’t tell anyone out of fear of him hurting you guys. I never meant for this to happen. I’m sorry I’m so weak,” you began to cry for what felt like the hundredth time in 24 hours as he stared in horror. He didn’t have time to respond before there was a pounding at the door. 

“Y/N, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD HIDE WITH PARKER AND I WOULDN’T FIND YOU?! YOU'RE DUMBER THAN I THOUGHT” You could hear Harry’s screams through the door and your blood ran cold. You felt glued to your seat as fear spread throughout your entire body. Peter’s body immediately went tense as he went to go to the door. It wasn’t until Peter got to the door that the shock faded slightly and panic set in. “What if Peter gets hurt, or he has May or Ned with him?!”  

Peter made sure the chain lock was secured on his door before  walking close to you and whispering. “Hide in the bathroom, lock the door, call 911 and I’ll stall him until they arrive. Go!” he handed me his cell phone and pushed me towards the bathroom. I dialed 911 as I entered the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind me.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes, I’m at 410 Chelsea Apartment 4B, I have a protective order against my ex and he is here. I’m scared he’s going to hurt me or my friend. Please hurry.”

“Ma’am, I have sent an officer your location, please stay on the phone until the police arrive. Where are you in the apartment? And you said your friend is there? Where are they?”

“I’m locked in the bathroom, my friend is in the living room trying to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.” I heard what sounded like a crash followed by Harry yelling for me and Peter yelling at Harry to leave. “I think he just broke into the apartment. Please, please hurry.”

“Ma’am, a police officer will be on scene in about a minute. Can you give a description of you ex so that I can relay it to the officers?”

“His name is Harry Osborn, he is a little over 6 feet tall, about 200 lbs, sandy brown hair, brown eyes.” You were beginning to panic again as you heard the yelling get closer to you and what sounded like an elephant parade which you assume meant the two were fighting,

“Thank you Ma’am, an officer is on scene now and should be at the apartment in a moment.”

All of a sudden you heard a third voice instructing them to break it up, reaffirming what you had guessed and now you really didn’t want to go out there. If Peter got hurt at all, you’d never be able to face him again. “I brought all of this and put it onto him. He’ll  hate me, and I’ll have no one and nowhere to go.” You heard a knock at the door, followed by a deep voice.

“Ma’am, it’s Detective Stacy of the NYPD, are you hurt? Can you come out of there?” You gripped the phone with white knuckles as you unlocked the door and slowly opened it. You were greeted by the soft face of a man who looked to be in his late 50’s. He was wearing a suit and had his badge displayed on his belt. Immediately, some of the tension you had been holding was released and you hung up the phone. The officer led you out into the living room where you saw both Peter and Harry in handcuffs, they were at separate corners of the room and luckily Peter was closer. You rushed to Peter, looking him over to assess any damage Harry had caused him. Luckily, all you could see was the formation of a black eye. Officer Stacy released Peter from his cuffs, explaining that it was more to keep the two from fighting again. Peter rubbed at his wrists and nodded in understanding. As soon as you went to hug Peter, Harry started to verbally attack you.

“You really thought you could get away from me, you dumb bitch? That I would just let you go without so much as a word?! And of all places and people, you really thought I wouldn’t think you’d run to him first? I bet you’ve been fucking him the entire time, huh? I always knew you two were more than “just friends”. Playing the victim card to get him into bed with you. After all, you were lucky I would even touch you half the time. I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Officer Stacy prodded. “Harry Osborn, you’re under arrest for Assault, Breaking and Entering, and Violating a Protective Order.” He then read Harry his rights and brought him downstairs to his partner. “I’ll be back up in a moment to collect your statements, alright?” He called behind him. 

With Harry finally out of the room, you began to think clearly again and your first thought was to really assess the damage to the apartment and Peter. Peter’s shirt collar was stretched and he had a black eye. You could also see him rubbing his side and when he walked to the kitchen for a glass of water you noticed a slight limp. You wondered how Harry looked as you hadn’t spared him more than a glance, refusing to look at him or even let him see your face as he degraded you in front of Peter and the officer. You then turned your attention to the apartment, the door frame shattered and an obvious dent was in the door from where Harry must have run at it to get in. A small chunk of drywall hung to the chain lock still attached to the door. Peter’s coffee table was just a pile of lumber and broken glass. Comic books were strewn everywhere and you could see Peter’s camera and laptop in the rubble. You picked up the expensive camera that you and May had pooled your money together for Peter’s 18th birthday and saw that the lense was shattered. You sat on the couch, clutching it in your chest as you looked to Peter. “Pete, I’m so-”

“Don’t finish that sentence y/n y/l/n, none of this is on you. You hear me? This was that psycho’s fault and I’m not gonna have you try to place blame on anyone other than him.” He walked over to you quickly and took the camera out of your hands, setting it behind him as he pulled you into a hug. “All of this stuff is just that. Stuff. I’d rather have everything I’ve ever owned be broken by him, have every bone in my body broken, than let him hurt you again. You’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

Detective Stacy knocked on the open door before walking in. “Alright folks, I need to get your statements and then I assume you haven't gotten to pack any of your things seeing as you filed the order early this morning correct?" You nodded. "Well then I’m going to take you to go pack up your things. We’ll keep him in custody until his hearing, due to the fact that he voided his bond from this morning when he came here and assaulted Mr. Parker. But the sooner you get your stuff out, the better. I can’t guarantee how long he’ll be in custody though due to him being an Osbourn. So who wants to go first?”

Peter looked at you and then Det. Stacy, not giving you time to answer. “I’ll go first, y/n why don’t you go eat? Do me a favor and text May and Ned from my phone asking them for moving boxes and to meet us here, please. We can go to the bedroom for privacy, Detective.” He led the detective to his room while you got to contacting everyone.

“This day just got a hell of a lot longer.”

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Masterlist

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

[sideofwritingsandramblings]

Day 14 - I Missed You

For @sheithmonth prev / on ao3 / next July 14th - Pent up / Chastity

Keith’s fist made contact with the punching bag for what felt like the hundredth time and he groaned, sinking to the floor in his misery. Of all the times Shiro had to be away from the Atlas, why did it have to be now.

For almost six months Keith had been on mission with the Blades, helping take down small factions of Galra that were still trying to continue the universal takeover. It was hard, especially since they didn’t have Voltron for backup anymore. After sacrificing the lions to save the entire multiverse, the ex-paladins had a lot of work to do.

Coran, Romelle, Allura, and Lance were currently based in New Altea, trying to build a home for the surviving Alteans while still offering support and shelter for all refugees. Hunk and Pidge had both returned to Earth for now to reunite with their families, but also to help with the rebuilding of Earth while creating a universal hub for all communications with the Coalition. Shiro still acted as Captain (and Commander) of the Atlas, leading his crew across the universe to try and fix the damage the empire had caused.

Keith had stayed by his side for a while but the Blade needed him more right now. However, that didn’t mean Keith wasn’t in constant contact with his boyfriend. Any chance he’d get Keith would send coded messages or, even better, open a private channel so that he and Shiro could just talk. It was almost as if they weren’t separated. Except when Keith started to think about Shiro’s hand on his shoulder. Or holding his hand. Or pulling his hair.

Or on his dick-

Keith shook his head, trying to physically clear the image from his brain. There was no doubt he was pent up but there was nothing he could do about it right now. Shiro was on another Coalition planet for a long meeting with important diplomats and Keith couldn’t interrupt.

Shiro would probably be there for the rest of the day. And probably even into the night. He’s waited this long to be with Shiro again, what was one more day?

Keith stood, moving on to where the training dummies were waiting.

“Activate training level 5,” he called, drawing his Marmora blade.

Keith barely had time to blink before he was knocked back and onto the ground.

Okay, it’s gonna be a long day then.

Shiro stood, thanking the diplomats for their time and exiting as quickly (but politely) as possible from the room. As soon as he made it outside the building he sighed, stretching his arms above his head. He was more than happy to do his part to help rebuild the universe but sometimes he’d rather be fighting Galran sentries than partaking in day-long meetings.

“Captain Shirogane, Sir!” Veronica came towards him, offering a salute.

He immediately waved it away, “What is it Veronica?

All formality slipped away and she smirked at him, “Just thought you should know that the Blades have made contact.”

Shiro tried not to react, “Oh?”

“Yes,” she continued, feigning nonchalance, “We’ve had one Keith Kogane board the Atlas, Sir.”

Without hesitation Shiro started towards the transport ships they’d taken to the planet’s surface. He ignored Veronica’s fit of giggles from behind him. With the meeting over, Shiro had no obligation to stay.

He needed to see his boyfriend. Now.

The flight back went by in a blur and after briefly checking the training deck and mess hall, Shiro knew where he’d find him. The door to Shiro’s room slid open and he could already see the lump under the covers of his bed.

It suddenly occurred to him how late it actually was but he didn’t stop. He launched into bed, human arm immediately wrapping around his boyfriend.

“About damn time,” Keith huffed, muffled by the blankets.

Keith didn’t move from where he was curled up under the covers so Shiro just held him tighter, “Well in my defense, someone didn’t warn me they were arriving today.”

Shiro heard some more grumbling that he couldn’t quite make out, and then Keith was moving, throwing back the covers and pouncing on him. The sudden weight on his chest was almost enough to knock the breath out of him but, more importantly, Keith was leaning down to kiss him breathless.

The contact was like electricity running down his spine and his hands immediately went to Keith’s waist, holding him in place. It has been way too long.

“I’ve missed you,” Keith breathed.

“You too,” Shiro replied, trailing kisses down Keith’s jaw and neck.

“Shiro?”

“Hm?” Shiro let go of Keith’s waist to trail his hands up Keith’s muscled chest and then press lightly at his clothed nipples.

Keith groaned and almost didn’t continue his thought.

“What is it baby?”

Keith sighed, grabbing Shiro’s hands to stop their wandering and holding them in his own, “I hate to say it but I’m really fucking tired.”

Shiro took a second to take in Keith’s expression. He hadn’t checked the time but if he had to guess it had to be almost 4 in the morning, and he could see the bags under Keith’s eyes. And, now that he was paying attention, he could also see clear signs of bruises from training.

“Training deck all day?” Shiro guessed.

Keith nodded, dropping his weight and laying on Shiro’s chest, “I want you to fuck me so bad but I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

Shiro laughed and tried to ignore the thrill that ran through him at Keith’s declaration.

“To be honest, I may not have been training all day but my head is absolutely swimming after that meeting.”

“Fuck, I mean you were in there all day right?” Keith’s nose wrinkled in distaste, “I’d rather be beaten to a pulp by the training dummies than listen to that tedious diplomatic shit for 12 hours straight-”

“More like 16 hours,” Shiro cut in, and Keith snorted.

“Yeah, no thank you.”

Shiro grinned, letting his hands move chastely across Keith’s back and shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.

“I’m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that,” Keith mumbled against his chest.

“Go ahead,” Shiro replied, pressing a kiss to the top of Keith’s head, “We have plenty of time tomorrow.”

Keith hummed in agreement.

“And then I’ll fuck you,” Shiro declared, and Keith laughed.

“Such a romantic.”

“Of course, I always aim to please,” Shiro replied without hiding the suggestion in his tone, to which Keith weakly punched his chest.

“Shut up already so I can sleep.”

Shiro wrapped his arms back around Keith’s waist, his exhaustion finally creeping up on him as well, “I love you Keith.”

“I love you too Shiro.”

[tonysopranosfeverdreams]

@glennatohowerton

42. “Why are you shaking?”

64. “Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything.”

It was 3:27 am, the last time Dennis checked his watch, which meant that Mac has been out for approximately 6 hours.

 He was on a date with some  asshole named Sean, who appeared from the grindr profile that Mac had gleefully waved in his face over their shared cartons of Chinese takeout earlier that night, to be all of 25 years old, and, undeniably, a total beefcake. When Dennis  had made some snide remark about the kid probably needing to be home in time for curfew, Mac had just laughed it off in between mouthfuls of vegetable lo mein (stolen from Dennis’s plate), his eyes scrunching up at the edges. It made him look younger, somehow, vulnerable.  Dennis had stared at the table.

Mac had bounced out the door donning a dark green t-shirt, sheer and fitted so it clung to his muscles.  Mac’s hair was soft, ruffled, and he looked more confident and at ease than Dennis had seen him in  years, casting a bright  smile over his shoulder while Dennis not to wait up for him.  Dennis had nodded. Dennis had counted the beer stains on the beige living room carpet. Dennis had thrown a mug against the wall. Dennis had cut his fingers picking up the tiny pieces of china that covered the kitchen floor. Dennis had paced the length of the apartment over and over for approximately 45 minutes.

Inevitably,  Dennis finds himself awake in the middle of the goddamn night, taking generous swigs from a bottle of whiskey he had unearthed from the depths of the kitchen cabinet, and flipping aimlessly through channels featuring scantily clad women on a quest to find their soulmate while jump-starting their model careers and rich housewives whose faces were more plastic than flesh and bone- who talked too much but said nothing. He ultimately settled on some nature channel showing a series that documented different species of birds. Tonight, they were talking about blue jays, he noticed, watching as one of the stern-looking little  birds soared across his screen to settle on a tree branch next to another.

Blue jays mate for life, apparently. Dennis hadn’t known that.  The soft drone of the narrator served as adequate background noise for Dennis’s increasingly loud, alcohol-fueled thoughts.

It was fucking ridiculous, really. Dennis knew Mac had been with men in the past, so he really shouldn’t be so fixated on the happenings of Mac’s date. For all the grief Dennis gives him, he realizes that Mac is an objectively attractive man, and now that he’s happily out of the closet,  there’s no reason he shouldn’t be out playing the field, catching up on the feelings and experiences he’d pretended not to want for the past thirty years, embracing the parts of himself he’d tucked carefully away from the outside world (or only acknowledged in the dim backrooms of seedy bars, caught in the middle of glittering crowds of moving bodies on the dance floor, drunk enough for a moment that he forgot what he was so afraid of in the first place, under some spell  that inevitably broke the next morning. This thought makes Dennis’s chest constrict sharply, a dull, aching feeling he can’t quite pinpoint).

But now, Mac was healing. Mac was growing. Mac was out with a man with dimples and a six pack who was probably laughing at all of his stupid jokes, touching his arms lightly as he leaned in to whisper something in his ear, making Mac’s cheeks flush and his eyes gleam in the same way they would whenever Dennis would dole out a rare compliment or words of praise.  Mac was out with a man who presumably had a career and goals and real adult relationships, who could wake up in the morning and eat three meals a day like it was nothing, who would probably call Mac baby when he’s sober and let Mac hold his hand; someone who wouldn’t lash out at him with unnecessarily sharp words, but would make him feel good about himself,  who would give him Valentine’s presents and stay to make him breakfast in the morning. Mac would like that, Dennis thought.

Dennis pictures Mac as he always looked first thing in the morning padding quietly out of his bedroom blurry eyed and sleep-soft, expression warming when he lays eyes on Dennis. Imagines someone else seeing him like that every day. Dennis thinks of getting drunk with Mac, leaning heavily against his shoulder on countless late night walks home from the bar, peering up under his lashes to catch a glimpse of Mac’s face; his gelled hair falling messily across his forehead, mouth open in concentration on getting them both home in one piece. The smell of his old leather jacket mixing with his dollar store shampoo and cologne samples ripped from men’s magazines, his arm tightening around his waist when Dennis inevitably stumbled over an empty beer bottle or groove in the sidewalk.

He thinks of Mac as a teenager: the two of them sitting silently in his room after his father went to prison for the second time, Mac’s arms circled tight around knees, his gaze fixed vacantly on the paint peeling off his bedroom wall, sitting closely enough that the outside of their thighs just touched. He thinks of Mac as he might be when he’s older, with more specks of gray painting his dark hair, more wrinkles around his eyes, but with the same unchanging, almost childish smile.Thinks again of Mac dating, maybe even getting married, someday. Growing old with someone.

At this point, Dennis realizes he is having difficulty breathing, his breaths coming out shorter and quicker than they normally would, his heart beating so loudly  he swears it echoes in his ears. The adrenaline sets in. Dennis goes to take another swig of whiskey to calm himself down, before he notices the bottle is empty. Fuck.  He immediately senses that has to get out. He has to get out of this fucking apartment and flee to somewhere, anywhere else. He is vaguely considering going to the 7-11 down the street to pick up a 12 pack of beerbeer, and at least burn off all this weird fucking nervous energy when his thoughts are interrupted by sound of the front door opening.

Mac’s moving as quietly as possible, as if trying not to wake anyone up. Painted in the yellow light from the hallway, he kicks his shoes off and gently sets his keys on the kitchen counter, before he notices Dennis sitting on the sofa.

“Jesus Christ, Dude!  I had no idea you were awake,” he all but squawks “Fuck, man, you almost gave me a heart attack”

“Sorry,” Dennis offers, tonelessly.

Mac exhales through a tired grin, stifling a yawn with his fist as he steps closer to Dennis,  flinging himself into a chair opposite the couch and stretching his arms over his head. Dennis’s gaze lingers the curve of his upper arm, his fingers resting lightly against the back of the chair.

“Oh man, at first I was super worried I was gonna get catfished, and it was gonna turn out to be like a  gross old woman or some shit like you see on tv, you know?” Mac makes a disgusted face, lip curling up dramatically before laughing. “But then I get to the Rainbow and it turns out Sean is like. An actual personal trainer, and he sells his own line of like, protein shakes, I think?  And like, I’m pretty ripped dude, but I mean this dude is absolutely shredded, like way more bigger in person than the pictures.”

As Mac proceeds to talk more about his date (who apparently had been very interested in watching Mac’s Project Badass tapes, though Dennis expected this was mostly to get into his pants), Dennis finds his focus drifting.  Mac has a stray piece of glitter decorating the skin just above the collar of his t-shirt, Dennis notices absently, glimmering mildly in the faintly lit room, and drawing attention to the part of his body where the meat of his neck meets collarbone, surprisingly delicate.

Dennis looks down at the floor, then forces his eyes back on the tv screen, barely registering  the shapes of the tiny, brightly colored creatures collecting twigs to build their nest together. Vaguely, Dennis wonders what would happen  if something went wrong. If nature maybe fucks up now and then and one of the birds can’t figure out how to build nests properly, was born without the instinct, or just doesn’t know what to do when the time comes, and he fucks it all up? What happens to him then? Does he just fly away?

Mac must notice that something is off, because he stops talking.

“Dennis. Dennis dude, are you okay?” He looks genuinely confused, as his gaze skates across Dennis’s face. Suddenly his eyes widen, his brow creasing with worry.

“Dennis? Why are you shaking?”

Was he? Dennis hadn’t noticed.

“I’m going to get you a blanket, man. Just wait here a second.” Mac’s wringing his hands, biting his lip as he stares at him earnestly,  like he does when he realizes Dennis hasn’t eaten all day or when Dennis finally emerges from the bathroom after having locked himself inside for the better part of the night.

The softness, the sincerity of the expression makes something in Dennis snap, and all he hears is static electricity, all he sees is red.  Just as Mac  turns to go get the blanket from his room, Dennis calls out to him:

“So fucking typical isn’t it? You’re so desperate for affection you’ll open your legs for  the first decently attractive person who gives you the time of day, as if they actually give a shit about you” he punctuates the sentence with a cold, strangely strangled sounding laugh, schooling his expression into one of mock pity.

“ Anyway, this guy was probably just bored, looking for a quick lay to kill some time. Absolutely pathetic.”

Mac freezes from his position in the doorway, his back stiffening, and Dennis’s entire body goes suddenly cold with dread. But Mac just stands there, with his back to Dennis, as the seconds tick unbearably onward.

“Come on!” Dennis croaks, desperate now to evoke some kind of reaction. “Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything!”

Mac turns slowly back to face Dennis, and when he does, Dennis sees an array of emotions plastered on his face; there’s pain etched into his features, and anger, but worst of all there’s this strange acceptance, like he had half expected Dennis to lash out like this, like he’s had years and years of practice. His voice is carefully controlled when he speaks next.

“Yeah, well, if I’m so pathetic, if I’m so desperate, then why the fuck did you come back in the first place? We were finally starting to get back to normal or like, I don’t know maybe an even better version of normal when you waltzed back in without any kind of explanation or apology for leaving us alone for over a year, Dennis.” Mac’s voice cracks, the way it does when he talks about his dad in prison, the way it does when he can’t but help but allow his carefully maintained facade of toughness to drop for just a moment.

Dennis sits frozen still, stunned. He wasn’t expecting this. He doesn’t know what he expected. Dennis doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but Mac’s eyes are glossy when he continues

“There were… weeks, Dennis. When I couldn’t get out of bed, when Charlie would come to make sure I was….” he flounders  “to make sure I was okay. And even after that I was trying so hard not to think about it I did so much stupid shit just trying to forget about y-to forget about it ” He clears his throat, raises his head slightly to look Dennis in the eye. “I was in a really bad place, man.  You leaving didn’t just affect you.” He pauses, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. Dennis swallows, suddenly, against, a growing lump forming in his throat.

“And now you’re back and you keep talking about how much you hate me, or how annoying I am, or how much you wish you didn’t live with me?” he chuckles bitterly. “So what I’m having a hard time understanding is- why? Why, Dennis? Why did you leave your kid and your cushy life with Mandy and come back to Philly, back to our home if I’m so goddamn terrible?”

Mac has these bright pink splotches  high on his cheeks, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion.

Dennis is paralyzed. He wants to flee. He wants to reach out and touch Mac. He wants to become as small as humanly possible, so small that no other person can ever see him again. He feels wetness forming on his cheeks, has no idea how it got there.

Mac’s body visibly deflates as he takes in the scene before him. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for a long moment, features softening. Moving quickly, he steps closer to Dennis, reaching out to touch him, hand  hovering near his shoulder before he thinks better and it drops to its side.

“Fuck, man. It’s late.” he forces a watery laugh, hand running through his own hair. “We’re just tired, saying shit we don’t mean.” He won’t quite meet Dennis’s eyes. “I’m going to go get you that blanket.”

Mac exits the room, and swiftly returns with the soft blue flannel blanket from his own bed, wrapping it loosely around Dennis’s shoulders with gentle, careful movements. He sits next to Dennis on the couch, leaving enough space that their legs don’t touch, but Dennis can still feel some of the warmth radiating from his body.

“Did you know that blue jays mate for life?” Dennis asks, abruptly. Mac pauses in his fussing with the blanket to lean back enough to look into Dennis’s eyes, cautious and confused. His whole face shifts, like he’s on the brink of something, but can’t fully bring himself to understand exactly what’s taking place.

“What? I don’t-” he starts

“Their whole life,” Dennis manages, feebly maintaining eye contact, his nails digging into his own thigh as he forces himself onward. He chokes on his words for a minute before continuing.  “ It’s just the one.”

“Dennis,” Mac breathes, his eyes wide with confusion, and fear, and something that looks suspiciously like hope. He reaches out and this time grabs Dennis’s hand where its curled into his thigh, squeezes it tight. “You’re okay. Dennis,  it’s going to be okay.”

And for the first time,  Dennis thought, maybe it was.