#I think more people need to open their hearts to father figure beard

[coachbeards]

beard jamie father son!!!!!!!!

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

You can call me, Sir.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific chapter warnings : Failed CPS case, implied abuse with belt, clothes shopping (I tried my best to be as body neutral as possible), sugar daddy Arron, sales lady is rude towards reader, Things are getting spicy, first rules, use of pet names, reader is described as having hair long enough to sweep over one shoulder, trying on clothes, Let me know if I need to add anything!

A/N: The amount of love that has been shown for this story so far has absolutely filled my heart! I’m sorry this chapter took a minute to come out, I got married last week sooooo 😍 that slowed the process down a little. Haha 💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

9 years ago

The worst part was the way her nose stung, like a million tiny needles stabbing her all at once. But she had to breath through it, because only selfish, weak, incompetent people cried. So she forced her thoughts solely on the older woman who sat across from her, her grey hair loose around her shoulders, and the bright pink blazer she wore with matching skirt. ‘I think name is Deloris?’

Not what you would have thought when you heard the term ‘CPS worker’. She smiles at the young teen as if she was Y/n’s best friend and there isn’t a care in the world as her fountain pen taps against her yellow notepad. “You’re mother must have been a lovely woman.”

A muscle in Y/n’s jaw twitches, but she manages to return Deloris’ smile briefly. “She was.”

“So is that really the reason you have been skipping school?” Her green eyes were full of mock sympathy, and Y/n can only assume how many of these ‘troubled teen cases’ she has had to work.

“Yes ma’am.” It was the 8th anniversary of Y/n’s mother’s death. Today. She can hear her father in the other room, moving about the kitchen, pretending to not be listening through the thin walls. Y/n squeezes the pillow in her lap tighter to her churning stomach, already anticipating how the rest of the night will go.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know losing a loved one can be hard, but that doesn’t mean we can go about making things hard for the ones we still have.” Deloris tilts her head, her lips in a slightly pout as she regards Y/n, who only bites her cheek to keep quiet. She drops her chin to her chest, fanning shame with a small nod, placating the woman. “Good. I’m going to go talk with your father now, I hope you understand the severity of the situation you’ve almost caused. I expect to hear you are in school tomorrow.”

Deloris doesn’t take long in the kitchen with Y/n’s father, her pitchy laughter grating on Y/n’s ears. Her father escorts the worker to the door, his hair is combed, beard neat and he’s dressed still in his work clothes. A fitted grey collard shirt and jeans. His usual Forman outfit. At one point in Y/n’s life she can remember thinking her dad had been very handsome, but that had all been before the drinking.

“Have a good evening Miss. Deloris.” Her fathers southern accent is always laid on heavy whenever he is trying to impress someone, or to get his way. And for most of his life it worked well. Y/n wonders sometimes if that is how he had charmed her mother.

As the pine door shut, Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before the storm. When she opens her eyes again, she’s staring at the brown tweed couch across from her, out of the corner of her eye she can see her father’s still form in the archway of the living room.

The sound of leather hissing through his denim belt loops makes her stomach drop, her breath quicken in her already tight chest. “Gone an got me in trouble huh?” He folds the worn leather over in his hands, snapping it together watching as she jumps in her seat. Her gaze remains focused on the spot Miss. Deloris had occupied, the old springs and cushioning holding her shape. “You ain’t learned trouble girl.”

Present Day

It’s almost unbearable how cold it is outside, the dark clouds over head threatened to snow on the busy sidewalk as you shove your hands as far into your jacket as they will go. Aaron is pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around your back, directing you through the crowd and to the front of a large store.

Chic’s End

Your nose scrunches slightly at the different mannequins in the brightly lit windows who’s clothing is on the higher end of fashion. Pieces you’d never find in your own wardrobe. Aaron guides you towards the door but you stop abruptly shaking your head. “Hotch, aren’t there places a little less… fancy?” Your tone gives away your discomfort as you scan the nearly empty store.

Aaron sighs, stepping around you so he can look you in the eye. “Rule number one: call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us, Hotch is too formal. Now I’m sure there are, but you deserve to be a little spoiled…” He pauses, his phone vibrating in his pocket making him frown. “Now go inside, let me check this and I’ll be right in.” As he fishes for his phone he pulls open the door for you, letting you walk in with a small head rush.

‘Our first rule?’

You take the moment you have some to look around the store front, a few customers are mingling about the rows of clothing, associates putting away inventory or helping their guests. A brunette is standing at the register, her hair sprayed and pinned into a tight bun atop her head. She glances at you, her nose turned up at your simple outfit, without a word of welcome she goes back to her work.

The door is opening a moment later, a small bell going off as Aaron steps in, the icy breeze trying to follow. “Sorry, David was checking in.” His voice reaches the woman at the counter, grabbing her attention. She watches as he shrugs out of his winter jacket, her gaze fixing on the flash of jewelry on his wrist with a smile.

“Is he okay?” You ask, handing Aaron your own jacket as he hangs them on a coatrack.

“Oh yes, he’s-.”

“Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?” You turn, the same woman from before now standing in front of you. She’s wearing a form fitting black dress, the apparent dress code for the establishment, a silver name tag pinned to her collar reading ‘Denise.’ Gone is her dismissive attitudes from before, her blue eyes staring intently at Aaron with a sly smile.

You feel something in your chest squirm, making you take a step in front of Aaron as you pull your best smile into place. “Oh thank you, but we are just-.”

A warm hands is suddenly on your shoulder, pulling you into Aaron’s side. “We’re looking for some work attire; blouses, pants, skirts and such. Along with more casual wear.” He squeezes your shoulder as you slide him a disgruntled look.

Denise regards you with a tight lipped smile, nodding her head slightly. “Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel, an extra sway in her her step that makes you roll your eyes as you pull out of Aaron’s grip following her. He follows behind a few paces, regarding you with masked amusement.

She takes you to the back of the store, pointing out the sections of racks you’ll need and where on the walls you can find work appropriate pants and skirts. Denise turns to Aaron once again, stepping to close for comfort as she stares openly at his suit. “You know, we have the latest in Brioni’s suit jackets that I think would complement you rather well, Mr…” She brushes her hand against his arm and your eyes widen.

“No thank you. I’ll let you know if we need any further assistance.” Aaron comes to stand beside you, his expression hard to read as he places a hand on your lower back. Denise’s eyes narrow slightly, her smile faltering before she pulls her emotions back.

“Please do.” She saunters of, throwing one last look over her shoulder.

You laugh unbelievably, “Jesus… she was a bit forward.” You turn toward the rack beside you, picking up the first shirt your eyes land on. It’s a simple white blouse with navy blue pinstripes, the neckline is a little low for your taste but otherwise it’s very pretty. You pick up the tag and instantly drop it, your mouth falling open.

“What?” Aaron asks, sliding the clothes along the pole, looking through the selection.

“This! These clothes are way to over priced.” You turn the tag towards him, and he squints at the small numbers. ‘75.56’. He frowns slightly and you think he’s about to agree with you, call this whole ridiculous thing off until he shrugs.

“That’s not so bad.” He grins at the incredulous look you level him, showing perfect teeth. “Darling you’ll come to realize the value that comes with certain things. Soon enough you’ll see the value in yourself as well.” He chucks you under the chin softly and you think that’s it.

You’re going to explode.

Everything it too much.

“Hotch, I can’t just let you waste that kind of money on me. You don’t know what you will need it for later, bills, or -.”

Aaron steps into your space again, bending down until he’s eye level with you and you clam up. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has your shoulders slumping slightly. When he speaks his voice is quiet but direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “What did I say our first rule was?”

You stammer, your grip tightening on the fabric still in your hands. “You said… to call you Aaron.”

“Correct. So that’s one. Now, when I say I am doing something for you, buying you something, getting you something; do not doubt me. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. Do I make myself clear?”

All you can do is nod, your throat dry and tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. “Good girl. Now if you really find calling me Aaron to difficult, you can always call me sir.” You suddenly look like a fire had been lit underneath you, your face flushing a new shade of red he’d yet to see before. You turn away from him, trying to hide your emotions and aggressively shuffle through the clothes before you.

Aaron straightens with a satisfied smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour in and there is a mount pile of clothing in the cart in front of you. Everything you’ve selected draped over one side and everything Aaron selected on the other. You had found a discount rack, the red tags a twisted mess by now, but the 15% off sign did little to quell the guilt eating you.

“Okay… this is more clothes than I think Garcia even owns. I think we should-.” You’re talking absently, glancing up only to find Aaron is walking in the opposite direction of the checkout. “Oh for the love of all things holy.” You quickly follow, pulling the cart behind you as the hangers rattle together. He stops in front of a display of eloquent evening gowns and you follow his stare to the forefront of the display. A deep emerald green satin dress takes your breath away, with a sweetheart neckline and a slit that goes half way up the mannequins thigh. You peak around the back in awe, it plunges well down to the lower back, a sheer material with beautiful rhinestones occupying the negative space.

Aaron watches as you pick up the bottom of the dress, rubbing the buttery material between your fingers. “I would love to see you in it.”

You shake your head, though your focus remains on the dress. “There’s no reason to, when would I ever wear this? Besides we’ve been here for nearly an hour, if we don’t leave soon I’m sure Denise is going to jump your bones.”

Aaron chuckles at that with a shrug. “You might not be wrong, she’s been lurking around the corner ever since I took my jacket off and she caught sight of my watch.” You glance down at his wrist as he shows you a golden Rolex. You hum in understanding, putting the two together. A handsome, stylish man, with a nice suit and a watch that coasts a couple of grand. She sees dollar signs. “Go ask her for a fitting room.”

Glancing around you notice she’s no more than ten feet away, pretending to be busy with an already neatly arranged display of sweaters. You walk over, hands clasped behind your back. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t bother to look up, her head tilted as if in contemplation as she stares at the stack in front of her. “Yes?”

Your jaw clenches slightly, but you smile regardless. “I’d like to try that green dress on, where are your dressing rooms?” That finally catches her attention, she looks around you to the dress your talking about and then to the cart beside Aaron, the red tags turned her way. With a bemused smile she finally looks you in the eye.

“Sorry, that dress isn’t on sale, dear. Maybe come back some other time.” Her high voice carries farther than she thinks, reaching Aaron who’s eyebrows raised in surprise before furrowing as anger bubbles in his chest.

Before you can say anything he is by your side, startling you both. “She didn’t ask you if it was on sale. She asked if you had a fitting room.” Denise pales, his voice is harsh and edged making her shift on her feet as she begins to stammer

“Well I… it was just-.”

“Just what? It’s a simple question, this is a clothing store so you must have fitting rooms. She would like one opened.” Denise can no longer keep eye contact, her gaze flickering from his face and away again. “Now.” The command in his voice makes her move, her mouth agape and she’s pointing indirectly over her shoulder. She turns, quickly walking away and you’re left to stunned to react. Aaron’s hand finds your back again, pushing you forward, his other hand on the end of the cart.

The dressing area is three beiges booths with deep red curtains for doors. A large mirror takes up one wall that is lit up like Time Square during Christmas, and there are mirrors in the booths as well. “You said the green dress?” You nod, giving her your size and she’s running off again, her head down and face red. Aaron takes a seat in one of the mahogany chairs, folding his arms across his chest. He’s watching Denise leave with that same look he gives every unsub as they are being hauled off to their final destination.

“Um… thank you, for… for that.” You speak up, breaking the silence waiting on Denise to return.

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his black shoe tapping the polished floor. “You don’t typically show when you’re upset or irritated, I had to step in. I also couldn’t stand by and let you be berated like that.”

This time it’s you who crosses their arms, glowering at him. “I wasn’t showing I was upset, so what she was being rude? It didn’t affect me.”

His lips pull into a sarcastic smile, head shaking. “Sweetheart, I’ve been working with you for three years, nearly four. When you get upset over something, even if it is trivial, you dig your nails into your palms. Most likely because you would rather focus on that then what’s stewing in your mind and your chest.” You blink at him, awareness washing over you as you shake out your hands, crescent indents marking your flesh.

Before you can snip at him Denise is back, placing the dress in one of the rooms and leaving without a word. Aaron raises an eyebrow and you huff, turning and walking into the booth before snatching the curtain closed. You take a moment to breath, your annoyance merging on anger as you begin to undress.

You have to force yourself to remember this is all apart of the contract, this is all small steps to whatever greater end goal he has. You can’t fully trust he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart, no one is like that. Working a career where you catch murderers and kidnappers and rapists has shown you such. The thought lingers at the back of your mind that maybe he’s pushing you to break and go to therapy where they will force your leave. It wouldn’t happen, you’ve come to far to let anyone treat you that way.

You step out of your pants, bending down to pick them up when you notice movement in the mirror. You look up, making eye contact with Aaron from where he sits and you go still. The only thing that moves is your heart as it suddenly jumps into double time.

Aaron’s eyes slowly rake over your body, the hunger in his eyes evident even from where you stand and you can feel your body respond. Heat rushes through your veins, leaving you lightheaded. He shifts in his seat, your eyes dropping to where he tugs at his pants legs, a noticeable bulge in his lap that makes your guts clench. From anxiety? Want? Curiosity? You aren’t sure. You quickly look away, his smile turning wolfish as you straighten and spin around, giving him a full peak at the matching black bra and panties your wearing before yanking the curtain fully closed.

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, your fingers suddenly tingling and your lungs working for air. Shakily, checking the curtain again and again you strip out of your bra, and pull the dress over your head. The satin is soft and cool, the green leaving your skin glowing in the light. It hugs your body in ways you wouldn’t of imagined and you… like it. It screams seduction, fun, and someone you’re not but someone you once might have wanted to be…

The only issue is you can’t zip it yourself. You struggle for a few minutes, contouring your body this way or that, but you can’t get the zipper more than half way up your back.

Reluctantly you pull the curtain aside just enough to peak your head out, your eyes instantly finding Aaron’s. He raises an eyebrow, his hands clasped together in his lap and you are more than aware of why. “I need her help.” Your voice is floaty and you clear your throat. “I can’t zip it up.”

“I’ll help you.” He stands, crossing the small distance in three long strides, quicker than you can reject his help.

“Wait- no, I’m-.” But he is pulling the curtain away from the other side and you curse the interior designer with a flourish of silent profanities. In the small space he seems larger than life, all broad chest and long limbs. He steps closer and you back up, an all to familiar dance you two have rehearsed before.

He holds his hand out, a gesture of reassurance but he is still looking at you like a starved man. “Spin around, pretty girl.” Your legs feel suddenly numb, like you’d never used them before in your life as you continue to stare. “It’s okay.” He whispers, taking another half step forward.

“It’s fine, it fits well enough without it zipped I’m sure it’ll fit great when it is.” You fight to keep your body lose and face expressionless, trying to mask the feelings bubbling in your guts. Aaron doesn’t say anything, only continues to stare you down, gaze never wavering. “Really.”

“Turn around.” You don’t want to listen, but the timber of his voice makes your body ache in a way that catches you more by surprise than anything else has these past 24 hours. Cautiously you lay your hand in his, letting his pull you in before spinning you around so you’re facing the mirror. He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, his fingers grazing across the naked skin pulling gooseflesh to the surface.

You stand as still as possible, hardly breathing as he gently slides the zipper up. His palms spread across your ribs, warm through the thin fabric. “What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful dress.” You whisper quietly, trying not to back down from his stare.

“You make it beautiful.”

“You’re only saying that.” He pulls you closer, your back hitting his chest, your body molding to his. A gasp disappears on your lips, his hips pressing into you lower back his erection prominent making you shiver.

“I can promise you I’m not.” His hand slips to your stomach, splaying across your abdomen, and a small noise hitches in your throat. He tilts his head down, pressing a tinder kiss to the crown of your head and all you can focus on is where he’s touching you and where he isn’t, but where you want him to. Your panties are suddenly slick feeling as you shift against him, his erection digging further into your ass.

“Aaron…” You try to warn, and he watches the way your eyes flutter, the shields you’ve so desperately and carefully constructed cracking under the weight of his stare. Some logical part of your brain, buried beneath the mush of your thoughts, is screaming and begging to run away. But how long had it been since you’d felt that fire in the pit of your stomach, curling your toes and making your thighs pinch together?

You’re about to open your mouth, say something, anything at all, when he is suddenly pulling away. “Come out here so I can get a better look at you.” Aaron steps behind the curtain leaving you to your spiraling thoughts and an ache you’d never imagine. Your face is flushed, eyes wide and pupils blown out over the color of your irises. It’s hard to keep the air in your lungs from rushing out in soft pants.

All you can think is that if this is how you react to a few simple words and actions, you’re screwed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The next half hour is spent paying for your clothing, a bill Aaron wouldn’t allow you to see, then moving the bags from the car to your hotel room. You stare at them now, laid out on your bed with furrowed eyebrows and your thumbnail caught between your teeth. How would you get these in your bag and on the plane with as little notice as possible?

“Maybe we can go get you another duffle bag tomorrow.” Aaron answers as if he could read your thoughts, and if you didn’t know better you would say he did.

“It’s okay.. Thank you for the clothing.” You manage, giving him a tight smile as you glance to where he is standing at the foot of the bed.

The entire car ride was filled with tension, his presence alone setting you on edge, all while he remained calm driving down the busy streets and helping you to your room.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles at you, possibly more so from your compliance, his eyes like coffee. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

You bite your nail harder, looking back to the bags. “I’d like to just order my food to my room, I need to get this organized and finish my reports.” You expect him to argue but he only nods, coming around the bed and kissing the top of your head before he walks towards the door.

“I’ll check on you in a little while.” With that he leaves, and as the automatic lock slides into place you crumple. You sit heavily on the bed, running a hand through your hair like it might comb your thoughts back into place.

What are you doing?

What is he doing?

You groan in frustration, the feeling of not having control over what happens next beating on your bones and muscles. You haven’t relaxed since this began and you have a feeling you won’t for a long time to come.

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you would like to be tagged in the next parts please comment below and I will gladly add you! Thank you all for your support!

@kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 3x7 Thoughts

Having only five episodes of this television show left is…something. I have a lot of feelings about Ted Lasso and this team he’s “borrowing for a while.” 

These thoughts are kind of a jumble!

Common thread: good relationship advice, a dream I’ve been dreaming about since s2 contained so much bad dating advice (or, more importantly, people who didn’t want to give their opinions on relationships because they didn’t want the responsibility of meddling). I’ve been certain that as the characters start to wind their way back to each other, the questions people ask about themselves and each other will get more honest, and the answers they receive in response will be more open, too. It’s actually pretty thrilling to see that happening. It feels like the closest thing to a single string (ba-dum tss!) running throughout this season, and I love it.

I’ve liked the Nate and Jade stuff a lot more than I expected to. Getting to see more of Nate’s family was such a delight, and I love that even if the whole family is kind of navigating around Nate’s dad’s ire, there’s so much love in the house and Nate gets some genuine support. And some good advice: you have to ask for things, and you have to do it with the full awareness that it might not work out. I’m so glad Nate got to see the map his father designed for his mother in all its grandeur. And I’m so glad his own attempt at replicating the grandeur got destroyed by a vehicle, freeing him up to rely on himself simply asking the question. 

It also did my heart good to catch the tail-end of Rebecca recapping Amsterdam for Keeley, and to see Rebecca sharing her fears about Jack. It was really something—she actually shares her concerns straightforwardly, and makes it clear that she isn’t saying Keeley’s new girlfriend is like her abusive ex-husband, but that Keeley has an opportunity to keep her eyes open and respond to what she sees. I also loved that Rebecca makes it clear that she isn’t jealous of Jack and is happy for Keeley, even as she’s also got concerns and of course has experienced some significant lonely moments as a result of Keeley being wrapped up in Jack. I dunno, it all feels realistically complex but also realistically drama-avoidant, and it felt like major growth for Rebecca. And it comes right off of Keeley pointing out the growth Rebecca exhibited in not sleeping with Boat Guy even if she might’ve liked the opportunity to! 

I was also very relieved to get a return to Beard and Ted at the pub! I missed them sitting and drinking their beers together! I did not really buy that Ted thought Jane might be hinting at marriage, but if he was joking, I think he needed to be more joke-y. Alas, I think that line was in there to get them to the pegging conversation, which was in there to get them to the pegging-marriage comparison joke. It admittedly paid off, but I think Phoebe Walsh and team could’ve found a smoother transition to the pegging discussion.

Very into Simi and Sam and very into Sam figuring out his wording and positioning with the racist home secretary on his own, albeit with Simi’s influence. I appreciated his anger and sadness in the locker room so much, and his father being there just in time for Sam to be able to hug him and cry on him was such a balm. I looooove that Ola really leans into the whole thing about visiting dads being allowed to be very awkward and make things uncomfortable, whether talking to the ex or the new love interest. I love that Ola knows about Sam and Rebecca and almost certainly has opinions but was also able to laugh about the whole thing with his son. Because, you know. Everyone is fine. It’s okay. And there are much bigger concerns, like the vandalism of the restaurant. When the team is there helping and Ola sees the sign light up as the first reveal that the restaurant is named for him…ahhhhhhhhh. It all made me wonder if Sam intentionally downplayed some of the presumably-notable London media coverage of the restaurant opening specifically so he could have that surprise moment with his dad. And when the restaurant was damaged, he felt like that moment couldn’t take place the way he wanted, but then it turned into something even better than he could’ve imagined—an opportunity to bring his dad into his community and team (his home in London, all working together to repair the place he created so that Nigerian people missing home could feel a connection to Nigeria!) and cook with Simi and his father.

In keeping with the pattern of trending-up experiences with good pals (and sisters, and best friends) talking about relationships of all sorts, I love that Total Football became a very literal (and very fun to watch) reflection on space and energy and interplay, the relations between people. I LOVED that each of the coaches takes their own role in explaining the what and why of Total Football. I was a little afraid that Ted was passing it off to Beard because he was scared that he didn’t actually understand the tactic well enough, but that wasn’t the case at all—all three primary coaches were fully engaged. And then Trent’s got the spirit, with some absurdly meta commentary! And then Jamie is the one who really cracks the code, which I absolutely adored. (Side note: how adorable was it that they all brought back the signal and flipped him off.) (Side note 2: they really said “we hear a lot of y’all are extremely into this red string of fate thing” and turned it into a dick joke! And Roy didn’t fully understand that this tactic was a one-time-only situation!) 

Speaking of things I absolutely adored, the whole rom-com montage motif throughout, with storefronts opening and flowers and the promise of an early morning…..YES. And I’m forever obsessed with Roy and Jamie being folded into the quaintness of that as, briefly, just two quirky extras giving the neighborhood some flavor. The string that binds jogging Jamie to Roy on his bike! Ahhhh!

I feel like there was more. These episodes contain so much. But I have got to go to sleep, and I feel happy to be able to do that while feeling generally very glad about that entire episode. I can think of a couple characters who should talk to each other more. (More than a couple, in fact!) But I loved the sense of progress and purpose to this episode, and I feel like things this season have generally been really beautifully paced, so for the most part I’m happy.

[abovexhorizons]

Chill swept through Evervale, gusts of wind carrying sprites of ice on their back flew through like a torrent. In a moment, the sea-side village had transformed from a bustling marketplace to a snow-covered landscape, houses and inn's covered in sleet, the cobblestone walkways slick with ice.

Isa had pushed the door to the blacksmith's open just in time, the heavy oaken door slamming shut behind her with a thud, the iron ringer clanging against the metal frame it were attached to.

"E-Excuse me, smithy?"

Despite the cold temperature outside, the inside of this blacksmith was anything but; hot coal and tempered steel heated the room, a chimney bellowing out the smoke from the smithing within.

She'd give a gentle wave before wiping her brow, boots clacking against the smooth-stone flooring. With a single motion she'd pull out her broken sword, placing it atop the counter.

"I won't assume this can be fixed, but I need another sword of its caliber; or better, preferably. Coin isn't an issue, and I don't mind waiting for it to be forged."

Despite her words, the hilt of this sword meant something to the knight; a particular date engraved. It meant the day she got the sword from the academy, her only tool against those that would inflict evil upon the land.

People like her father.

The shopkeep: a stout, tall man with a beard as thick as his forearm; hair ran up to the sleeve of his shirt, a thick white apron dangling from his neck. Gloves protected his fingers from the heat, the hammer at his waist his primary tool.

He'd grunt, looking down at her with a mix of disdain and intrigue; it wasn't every day that Evervale got female knights coming through, and whilst he wasn't privy to details - nor did he want them - he knew that most hailed from the Estal Empire. Which begged the question; just who was she?

Despite the question forming on his lips, he'd gruff again to dispel it from his mind; whoever she was, she was a paying customer, and it wouldn't do to poke his nose into the business of others. If she needed a weapon, then that's what she needed.

"What size 'ya lookin' for? Any particular weight, lass?"

She'd ponder his question a moment, finger brought to her chin as Isa thought it through. She was used to a shortsword at her waist, but it came with its disadvantages; perhaps, then, a greatsword would be better?

But that, again, caused doubts in her mind; if it were too unwieldly, then she'd have a hard time protecting Rika.

"I think I'd like a longsword, please; I don't mind a bit of weight added to the hilt, but I need it to be one-hand friendly, as well as compatible with two."

She was no stranger to sword and shield tactics, nor just using the blade on its own; though having a longer sword would add more defensive options into her arsenal, along with an easier time parrying.

"What'a 'bout a one-handed greatsword, then?"

This caused Isa's head to cock to the side like a lost puppy, her mind trying to figure out just how such a weapon could exist. If it were a greatsword - a Zweihander, as it were named back in the empire - then it'd surely implore the use of two hands to move it around.

"I know what yer' thinkin'. Trust me on this; I can do it. Made a few prototype's for another knight that came through here years ago. Gyl... Somethin' or other."

The name made her heart sink; why did it start the same as her fathers? Had he come through here, either as part of the War effort, or on his way to capture Rika?

She wanted to ask, but the words got stuck in her throat; her mouth, drying up at the very thought. It wasn't just the heat of the room making her sweat; anxiety dripped down her forehead like a waterfall, and for a moment, Isa could swear that all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

"Either way, hol' on a second lass."

The shopkeep would vanish behind a large curtain, giving Isa much-needed time to breathe; once the purchase had been made, then she'd have to confirm her suspicions.

Perhaps, then, they were getting closer to the end of their journey together; maybe soon, Isa and Rika could part ways. Rika could reclaim her homeland, and Isa... Isa could return to the Estal Empire as a traitor.

She must have been lost in thought, because it felt like only seconds before the blacksmith returned, two large swords in hand; one, as tall as Isa was, the other slightly taller. Yet even as he handed the former over, Isa was pleasantly surprised to feel how lightweight the weapon was.

A quick twirl around and a faux strike told her that this would do fine; it felt comfortable in two hands, long enough to be used as a mock shield should she need it, and lightweight enough that using the weapon single-handed for a small amount of time wouldn't kill her stamina.

"That's the second prototype I made for 'im. He said it was for his daughter, but he never picked it up! Just had it sat out here, cause the materials were rare enough to get in."

He'd nod his head as if dispensing sagely wisdom, though Isa knew now she had to ask; the thought taking over her mind as she screamed at herself internally to stop, to not hurt herself like this.

To live in ignorance that they could continue on together, forever.

"This man you speak of; would his name have been Gylbard Duralleve?"

Even as she spoke his name aloud, Isa could feel a tinge of pain in her chest; the fact that she even bore a relation to him enough to make her condemn the name. But if it got her a sword as fine as this, a lead like this...

"That's the one! You know 'im?"

A quick bite of her lip, deciding if she should continue this--

"I'm his daughter."

The blacksmith let out a mighty chuckle, eyes closed as he'd lean back bellowing; his voice cracking as he'd settle down, shaking his head from side to side.

"I see! Explains the eyes, lass. Take it; debts already been paid for."

There was no hesitation as she'd reach forwards, taking the weapon in hand; it still, even after years of rest, maintained it's sheen, the edge on the weapon just as perfect.

"Don't have a name, but I guess don't need one, eh? Tools a tool."

He'd turn around to leave the front of the store, groaning out a "stay safe" as he'd vanish; though not before Isa would call out, one more time, her face red with embarrassment as she figured out the best way to ask.

"T-The last time my father came through here. Did he have any women in his party? A kitsune, perhaps?"

The shopkeep would stand in the doorway, massaging his beard as he thought; it was over 10 years ago now, the memory lost to time; try as hard as he might, he could only give a shake of his head, accompanied with a sight.

"Sorry lass; I don't remember."

Just like that, he vanished from sight, leaving Isa at the front alone; with a heavy heart she'd turn around and embrace the storm, footsteps dull in the howling wind as she'd return to the inn for warmth and comfort.

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?”

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘The_gr8_bugaboo@yoohoo.com’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

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

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S.  Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

[initiala]

Oh hai.

It's not dead or abandoned! Remember how I started this for @cssns​ 2018???? Just, y'know, life happening, and also several global catastrophes. But it turns out that writer's block is really cured by procrastination, which is why I was able to finally figure out some spots I was stuck on while not packing up my apartment to move.

Please enjoy this overly delayed post-wedding fluff and smut.

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

______________

The holidays weren’t really something she paid attention to, not after her parents died. Her mother had loved any excuse to have a party and Emma had grown up with the nondenominational trappings of Christmas in their house, but the tradition had died with Snow and David when she was sixteen. She normally spent the last week of December pulling extra shifts at work, covering for people who had families and wanted the extra time off, and never had a second thought about it. The Pack had their own holidays, particularly around the solstices, but nothing compared to the warm, colorful parties of her childhood -- and frankly, nothing ever would. 

So when their short honeymoon fell over Christmas Eve and Day, Emma didn’t think anything of it. Killian made no indication that he celebrated it, and when they returned home on Boxing Day it was to a chilly apartment without any of the decorations that dotted the windows up and down their street. She turned up the heat a little while Killian took their bags back to the bedroom to be sorted out, and she double-checked the windows were locked tight while turning on a few lights in the living room.

The colorful twinkle outside meshed with the light snowfall in a way that made her heart twist painfully in her chest, a flash of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears and a brief memory of her father cornering her mother under the mistletoe. Her thumb went to the band on her finger, a lump forming in her throat, and she remembered why she normally worked herself to the bone this time of year.

Work was a distraction from missing them.

“Emma?”

She whipped the curtains shut to put an extra layer between the cold glass and the warming room, between herself and her memories, and turned to face her husband as he came into the room. “Love, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but his large hand engulfed her own as it went to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Darling, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this but I can smell when you’re sad,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been home five minutes, you can talk to me.”

Fuck, she hated talking about her feelings and her parents and particularly her feelings about her parents. But she’d promised -- she’d vowed -- that she’d be more open and honest with him, and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get lucky and guess what all of this was about. She hadn’t told him enough about her parents to let him put all of the pieces together. “I just… I miss my parents,” she said softly, and let him hold her as he made a sympathetic noise and murmured soothing things in her ear. “Mom really loved this time of year. She threw the best parties, one year she actually got fairies to make it snow inside and me and the other kids had a snowball fight. She loved the colors and the whole family thing and she really loved the smell of pine trees -- it kind of gave my dad a headache. But we made it work because Dad always said how it put an extra sparkle in Mom’s eye and he loved her enough to put up with it. I normally try to work a lot through this time of year, everyone wants extra time off, but I was kind of hoping this year we could have some new memories to make this time of year less sad. And it helped, it really did, but then I just saw the lights outside and the snow and it just… it hit me a little harder because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about them. So I miss my parents and I’m sorry this time of year is going to suck no matter what and--”

Killian shushed her softly and she realized she was crying as he thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “If I’d known… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t blindfold you everywhere -- well, I could, but not in the fun way --” He grinned as she swatted him on the chest. “So testy, my love. You don’t have to be sorry about missing your parents. You just need to let me know, so I can comfort you or let you sit and mourn them in peace, or drive you to distraction. And if I need to do so more this time of year, well, let it be my burden to bear. You don’t have to bear this alone, Emma, you can always rely on me.”

And didn’t that just make her get teary all over again? “How the hell do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

“Because I’m magic,” he rumbled under her and she pinched his side. “And we’re too alike, you know. Now, what do you need?”

She sniffled and took a breath, taking mental stock. They really needed to unpack and get everything sorted out for laundry, but while that would keep her hands busy her mind would wander and she really didn’t want to keep thinking about the past. But she knew that leaving everything until tomorrow or the next day would bother Killian; she didn’t want to be alone right now, either. “Can we bring the bags back out here and watch TV while we unpack? I know you just put them away but--”

He was already nodding, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, love.”

Since he’d been the one to put them away and she was being the emotional asshole, she figured it was only fair that she bring the bags back out. She had no idea how he’d done it all in one trip, not with how narrow the hall was and how much she disliked scuffing her baseboards with the wheels, and surreptitiously eyed them as she made multiple trips back and forth.

No scuffs. “I’m magic,” she mumbled in a sarcastic imitation of her husband’s accent, shaking her head.

Killian had the TV on to the classic movie channel and the unmistakable scent of chocolate lingered in the air. “Dash of cream liqueur, whipped cream, and cinnamon,” he said, handing her a mug as she sat down.

Emma smiled into it, letting the warmth of the drink and the liqueur slide into her belly. “Did I ever tell you Mom’s the reason I like this?”

“Mm, no.”

She watched as he deftly unzipped the largest bag and started sorting through it; she’d done little more than toss everything in without caring about wrinkles, and the whole thing reeked of sex and wine -- they’d had not nearly enough of both over the last few days, but apparently enough to let the scent sink in to all the fabric. A different kind of warmth settled under her skin, but she wasn’t in the mood to act on it just yet. “According to my dad, Mom drank this all the time when she was pregnant with me. Her biggest craving; not that she didn’t like it before, but it was like another level. So then it became our thing, once I was old enough to have some, just sitting together on the couch or in the kitchen or wherever, with our matching cocoa with cinnamon.”

Killian glanced over at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart swelled suddenly with reaffirmation of how much she loved him. His bangs fell over his forehead in a way some might call rakish, but when he looked at her like that -- lips quirked up in amusement at his own joke he was about to tell, unable to hide his glee at his own cleverness -- she could only call it boyish. “Sweet tooth before you were even born, eh Swan?”

Maybe not a joke then, but teasing, like they were twelve and he was pulling her tail. “I’m a wolf of taste,” she said loftily, setting her mug aside and pulling up another suitcase to go through. “Unlike some mangy curs around here.”

“Mangy cur?” Emma squeaked as she found herself pinned under him on the floor, his nose brushing against hers and heat flooding her body. His grin promised absolute filth, the hard length of his body pressed against hers deliciously, and the scent of his arousal was enough to make her dizzy. “Didn’t realize we were comparing pedigrees here, princess. Too bad you’re stuck with the mangy cur and not some stuffy purebred.”

“I happen to like the mangy cur,” she whispered, their lips close enough to tease.

“Good,” he growled. “Because he likes you too.”

She moaned into his kiss, which was far gentler than she was expecting, and he let up on her arms enough to allow her the space to embrace him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then down his back, where she teased the patch of skin revealed by his sweater riding up. “Emma.”

He pulled back and she smiled at how he already looked wrecked. She glanced over his face, refamiliarizing herself with the little details she already had memorized but still loved looking at: the old scar on his cheek, the ginger hairs in his beard, the little freckles and the way his eyebrow seemed to jump up on its own when he got curious about something. He caught her eye with his again and one corner of his mouth ticked up, a sudden shyness in the way his eyes darted around, like he wasn’t sure she was staring at him . “What?”

She shook her head, reaching down and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, earning a surprised -- and pleased -- noise from him as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I just… really love you,” she said when they parted.

His cheeks reddened, but just around his cheekbones, and she loved that she knew that detail about him. If she was further back, she’d be able to see his ears turning the same color, and if she really got to him she’d be able to get his nose to match. She liked the way he could get around her, quiet and unabashedly himself, someone who couldn’t take a compliment seriously and waved off words of praise. It drove her a little crazy, but she’d made her vows to voice her feelings to him and she was going to make good on those vows.

“I love you too,” he said, his nose brushing against hers, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

The laundry could wait.

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

“ There she is!” Ruby hollered, ignoring the glares from the other bar patrons.

Emma also ignored the knowing looks on both Ruby and Dorothy’s faces as she shrugged out of her coat. She knew her hair was mussed and she had beard burn on the side of her neck -- Killian had a particular fondness for this dress and the lack of coverage it provided -- and she was definitely late for their night out, but she only felt the slightest hint of guilt over that. Besides, both Ruby and Dorothy knew what it was like to be newly mated, so they could cut her a break. “Hey, thanks for saving me a seat.”

She flagged down a waitress to take her drink order and then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “So… how’s it going?” Ruby asked in a sing-song.

“Babe.” Dorothy elbowed her.

“What? She’s got sex hair and she reeks of it. If that’s her excuse, she’d better dish.”

Emma rolled her eyes, cracking open a shell. “We didn’t have sex, thank you, he just… made it hard to leave.”

“Oh I’ll bet something was hard.”

“Ruby.”

The waitress arrived with Emma’s drink and they ordered one of those mixed appetizers platters to share, as well as another round of drinks. Emma gulped half of her drink after the waitress left again before saying, “I won’t kiss and tell.”

As Ruby made a face, Dorothy reached for her own peanuts. “Some of us appreciate that.”

Emma downed the rest of her gin and tonic; she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it, and seeing as how this was a wolf bar the drinks were made to match their metabolisms, but this was the first time she was getting to hang out with her friends since her wedding and she wanted to have fun. Tipsy, ridiculous fun, with no husbands and no responsibilities. Girl time. Catch-up time.

Only, she realized as the conversation started to actually move towards catching up on each other’s lives, she just had stories about Killian.

“Okay, I forbid you to talk about your husband for thirty seconds,” Ruby said, pointing a french fry at her for emphasis. The appetizers had been replaced by entrees, and Emma rolled her eyes as she took an enormous bite of her burger. Fine, she’d just chew instead. “You have to have been doing something other than banging each other silly or going to work.”

Emma took her time with her food, drawing out Ruby’s challenge and taking some small joy in the agitated tick in her friend’s eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you don’t know what I do for work,” she said finally, reaching for the ketchup. “And we’re in a post-holiday lull, so it’s gonna be a bit before things get interesting.”

“One of us has got to get a different job,” Ruby declared, while her mate rolled her eyes indulgently.

Emma didn’t bother to respond, instead flagging down the waitress for another G & T. There was definitely a happy buzz going on under her skin and she wanted it to continue; the burger would only dull the effects before too long.

“Bitch on the prowl, ten o’clock,” Dorothy said suddenly, looking towards the door.

Emma and Ruby turned to look, with what felt like most of the bar’s patrons and staff following their lead. A woman she didn’t recognize was taking off her coat, revealing a dress that would send normal humans rushing to her side in an instant; here, it only added to the allure of her scent. She was obviously in heat, unattached, and looking to rectify the situation.

Already two men were walking towards her, jostling one another to make her acquaintance first; Emma just looked back to her tablemates with a look of resignation. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

“Neither is she; she must be the first one of the season,” Dorothy said, watching the situation near the door with mild interest.

“Just glad it isn’t me this time.”

“If there wasn’t any concern about like, us not being turned into a science freak show, I would absolutely watch our version of a trash dating show.”

“Babe, we have too many seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list as it is,” Ruby said.

“Correction, we don’t have enough seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list.”

Emma glanced back at the display happening on the other side of the bar, letting the sound of her friends teasing each other blend into the rest of the noise. This woman was definitely taking no prisoners, making eye contact with one of the men while her hand rested almost possessively on the arm of the other, her lips spread into a wide smile. Hell, she was charmed by this kind of display, especially when the woman demurely glanced at the second man under her lashes for a moment. Maybe Dorothy was right about a dating show… She watched as the woman laughed at something one of the men said, throwing her head back to give everyone a good look -- and smell -- at her neck, and Emma found herself dazedly wondering when she might be able to slip away back home and ravish her husband.

“Oh no, we’ve lost her.”

“Pheromones side effect, tragic really.”

She blinked back to attention. “What?”

Ruby looked annoyed, but Dorothy at least seemed sympathetic. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase, babe, it’s gonna be a while before everything settles down. The coming season doesn’t help.”

“Okay, you can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Emma snapped. Her drink had been refreshed without her notice and she downed it. “I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up about Killian and whatever.”

Ruby started to respond, but Dorothy silenced her with a look. Whatever silent argument they had, Ruby lost and she huffed as she went back to her meal. The reaction stung -- it’s not like Emma hadn’t sat through hours of Ruby pining and then gushing over her own mate, she could stand being the recipient for a while -- but Emma felt it wasn’t worth it to argue and ruin the evening by just turning it into a fight.

Eventually, they started talking again, Ruby breaking first with some pack gossip. The night never got to the raucous levels any of them might have hoped it could get to, but was overall a nice time and Emma even forgot about getting her feelings hurt. It felt good to get out of the house for a while with friends -- but when someone wolf-whistled as the woman in heat from earlier waltzed out with an entirely different man clutched possessively at her side, Emma thought it might be even better to get back home to her mate.

Even short periods of absence seemed to make the heart grow fonder.

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

As the new year rolled through to its second month, Emma and Killian quietly celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting, marveling at how much had changed in just a year. Killian noticed that Emma seemed to greet each day with increasing wariness, and his own awareness of the mating season coming into bloom turned into some kind of insatiable itch under his skin.

He’d never participated in mating season before meeting Emma. He’d been soured from pursuing any sort of relationship after the disastrous affair with Milah, and even when he’d been half underwater with alcohol he’d decided he’d never again get snared by any she-wolf’s trap. And to his embittered mind, mating season was just another trap, luring men into siring pups or trying to turn a one-night tryst into a long-term commitment. Even after he’d sobered up and straightened himself out, he’d still felt the sting of rejection in his phantom limb and did his best to stay occupied and aloof in spring.

Until Emma.

He’d known from the start that she was different, that chance encounter with her packmates. She had fire, and the way she’d immediately come at him on the offense had piqued his interest immediately. Then the wind had shifted and he’d immediately known what the source of the problem with her packmates had been, the full-blown scent of a bitch in heat burrowing down to awaken his most basic instincts. He’d done his best to remain a gentleman and let her walk away, as she’d clearly had no interest in acting on her own hormones, and once her scent faded on the wind he’d walked away as fast as he could without rousing anyone’s suspicion. He’d thought that was the end of it, until a chance meeting at a bar led to a delightful night of conversation and drinks…

And the most wonderful, passionate woman he’d ever had the pleasure to offer himself up to the next day.

Poor love had been so miserable when he’d come to see if his magical hangover remedy worked for her that he’d hardly reacted to the overwhelming bouquet of Emma in heat. He’d acted immediately to try and rectify the errors in her spice cabinet, mixing his potion and letting her recover. And as he tidied up the mess he’d made, it became increasingly hard (in many senses of the phrase) to ignore the fact that he was absolutely surrounded by pheromones and the obvious lingering scent of everything she’d done to relieve herself of the ache over the last several days. And when she’d emerged from her blanket nest again and stood there with only a shirt and her knickers and legs that went on for miles and giving him every last chance to run before they’d do something they’d regret?

He’d never wanted someone more in his entire life, mating season or not.

It wasn’t long after he returned home, he realized that long weekend in her bed (and her shower and her kitchen… and one particularly enjoyable occasion with her back pressed to the window and the lights in the living room turned off to keep the outside world in the dark to their activities) would never be enough for him. Liam accused him of moping, his friends thought he needed to get out and meet someone new to get Emma out of his system.

Looking up now, watching her enter the room shyly and holding out a simple padded envelope, he knew just as well now as he’d known then: he could never get her out of his system, even if he tried.

“What’s this, love?” he asked, accepting the envelope from her as she settled in the crook of his arm.

“Early valentine’s present,” she said simply.

They had a reservation at a restaurant that day, so he was a little confused as to why she didn’t want to simply wait until then. “Any particular reason why this is an early gift?”

Her scent changed, a little surge of arousal, and amusement laced her voice, “I kind of figured it was safer to give these to you in private.”

Well now he was intrigued. “Very well then, thank you and I accept.”

Reaching into the envelope, he felt photos -- a stack of actual printed, glossy photographs. He glanced down at his wife -- fuck, he’d never be over that, his wife -- and watched her chew her bottom lip nervously as he pulled the photos out. 

Each photo featured Emma in some way, posed and primping and perfect in all her glory. These weren’t amateur photos by any means, and even her hair and make-up looked like someone else had done the job -- not that Emma did poorly at her own appearance, but she wasn’t one to add such accentuation to her eyes to give them that smoky effect. Killian swallowed hard as he went through each photo, his heart thumping especially loud in his ears: Emma looking directly at the camera in some sort of modernized glamour shot; Emma from behind, shot from the waist up, looking coyly over her shoulder as she slipped a shirt -- was that one of his? -- down her arms to expose her back beneath a wave of blond curls; Emma laid out on dark satin, her hair spilled around her like a halo, wearing what was definitely one of his button-downs and nothing else from the way she gripped it closed. “Emma, how did you--” his throat felt nearly as tight as his pants as he paused at the next photo, her eyes downcast as she lay on her stomach, the curve of her breast visible in the opening of his shirt.

“I am people who know people,” she said simply.

On and on it went, all of them sensual or titillating without pushing the envelope enough to qualify as lewd, until the last one: she reclined on her side, propped up on her elbow, on a pelt that matched her own. Completely bare, her back faced the camera, her hair spilling down her shoulders as she looked to the side, not quite looking over her shoulder but enough to give the viewer a look at her demure profile in an otherwise completely shameless photograph.

“Jesus Christ, Emma…”

She rested her head against his shoulder, by all appearances merely a content wife who was pleased her husband liked her gift, rather than the mischievous seductress she truly was. Minx. “You like them?” she asked.

“Very much. And may I add, excellent call on a private viewing,” he murmured, nosing her hair. “Had anyone else even glimpsed these, I would have had to rip their throats out with my teeth.”

She hummed and he grinned as her scent flared. “The whole murderous, possessive alpha male thing shouldn’t be such a turn on,” she commented, and squeaked as he hauled her up in his lap.

Placing the photos on her lap, he tapped the last one with one finger. “This one should be blown up and professionally framed, I might hang it up in my office. Your arse is a work of art, love.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, “but wouldn’t that go against the whole ‘if anyone else saw these I’d kill them in cold blood’ thing?”

He tweaked her nose; she really was a terrible mimic of his accent. She always made him sound like a Mancunian somehow. “I didn’t say it had to be the main office, and while I admit that intimidating any potential contractors to a better profit turnover would be better, I can’t say I’d be able to get much work done with such a distraction.”

“And it being in your home office would do any better?”

“Well,” Killian said, drawling on the l’s, “for one thing, I wouldn’t have to travel far to take care of any, ah, problems that might arise from a viewing.” Emma snorted, no doubt feeling exactly the sort of problem he spoke of pressed against her bottom. “Though why would I need to look at this if I have the real thing waiting for me?”

“Who says I’ll be laying in wait for you?” she asked, poking his chest. “If our history says anything, I’m the one who pounces on you the moment you walk through the door.”

“Or sooner.”

“Or sooner,” she said. Looping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. “You really like them?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to remind her that he’d already answered that, but then he noticed the slight furrow of her brow, the nearly invisible downturn of her lips, her wide eyes flicking between his as she tried to read his expression. Killian softened, in several ways, remembering how difficult she found it to be vulnerable; he suspected the act of posing and taking the photographs had been easy -- Emma was a beautiful, confident woman and she knew it -- but now came the hard part: seeking approval. “I love them,” he told her seriously, tightening his hold around her. “A pale substitute for the real thing, but this on my desk,” he flitted through the photos to the glamor shot, “will remind me of the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home. And get me through the long , hard days when we don’t see one another.”

She gave him an overly patient look at where he’d emphasized his speech. He leaned down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows, breathing her in. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone such as you, my darling, but I’m grateful every day to whatever thread of fate drew us together.”

Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around him. She shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him; the intensity of it nearly overwhelmed him, telling him without words how much she loved him and appreciated what he’d said. He felt her fingers in his hair, grazing the sides of his face and neck, her lips moving against his with a hunger he recognized well. “Let’s move these,” he rasped, doing his best not to just throw the pictures all over the floor, “before we make a mess of them.”

Killian gladly let Emma take control then, pushing him flat on his back on the couch and straddling him. “Show me what you really think,” she said, and whipped her sweater over her head, the offending garment falling almost protectively over the stack of photographs on the floor.

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

The dream started the way it always did: she was sixteen again and her body wasn’t cooperating as she tried to climb the height to the challenge grounds. Most of this was pulled from memory, the sounds of her mother and Regina fighting, the bitter cold, the tang of blood on the wind, but while the stones under her were covered in ice and snow, she’d been able to climb with only a little trouble. She’d been more worried about what she’d find than making sure her feet were going in the right place.

In the dream, though, it was like moving through molasses. Images came in flashes -- her mother lunging and scoring a blow on Regina’s side, Regina’s snarl and the moonlight glinting off the ceremonial silver knives, her father bleeding to death on the ground. Her voice stuck in her throat as she tried to scream for help, like her mouth was sewn shut.

She was helpless to stop what was happening; she always had been, and even in a dream she couldn’t change the reality that her parents had been murdered in front of her.

But for the first time she was able to get to the top, only to find Regina fighting Killian instead of Snow. He had no knife, no weapon at all, swinging wildly with his fist and kicking where he could, but Regina seemed to have the upper hand as she dodged his every move. It looked like she was completely fine with letting him tire himself out first before she had to do anything; Emma tried to scream, tried to get them to stop -- why would Killian be fighting Regina? -- but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Killian lunged and Regina dodged with ease, moving on the offense for the first time as she slammed her elbow into his back. He fell with a cry and suddenly a rifle was in her hands. A crack sounded in the frozen night and then Killian lay still on the ground.

Her body moved, freed from whatever had trapped her in place. Regina was gone, and Emma flung herself at her mate’s form. He lay sprawled on his stomach, a dark, wet patch spreading across his back in the same place where he’d been shot last fall. She packed snow against the wound, an animal cry ripping from her throat in a desperate plea for help. She turned him over, trying to see if he was conscious, but he was white as death and as cold as if he’d lain there for hours instead of moments --

Emma woke, a scream stuck in her mouth as she fought to get the blankets that were tangled around her and constricting her movements off. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tumbled to the floor; the solid impact shook off the confusion between dreams and reality, but it couldn’t get the image of Killian bleeding out in the snow out of her mind. She curled in on herself as her mind blended it with the same sight of her parents that she’d relived over and over again for more than a decade, her chest aching as she tried to stifle her sobs.

It was late, but she hadn’t gone to bed as Killian had still been at work. She’d dozed off on the couch, something she hadn’t done in a long time—in the last few months, the combination of Alice’s crystal magic and the ever-present scent and feel of their mating bond in the bedroom had helped ease both of their night terrors. Their den represented safety and security, giving them peace of mind to rest easily.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Emma took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She reached for where she’d left her phone, using the hem of her shirt to scrub her face dry with her other hand, and checked to see if there were any messages. A few warm tears leaked out still, even as she checked the time and noted that Killian had texted not long ago to let her know he was on his way home.

As if on cue, the sound of keys in the hall reached her ears, and a moment later they scratched at the lock and then the door opened. “Sorry I’m so late, darling, I—what happened?”

He was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. She lay her head against his shoulder gratefully. “Bad dreams, it’s nothing.”

“Sweetling, the fear-scent hit me full in the face when I came in, it’s not nothing.”

His heartbeat under her ear soothed her, some of the lingering tension in her shoulders easing with the steady thrumming. Her arms went around him and his hold tightened, just a little, as if he could protect her from her own demons just by holding on tight.

She wished he could.

“Bad dreams,” she said again, clearing her throat after her voice came out thick. “A lot of the same, mixed up together in a shitty new brain cocktail I didn’t order.”

He knew about the recurring dream with her parents, and the newer ones from the incident in the fall, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to put together what she meant. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was waiting for you to get home and just nodded off.” Her book, forgotten until now, lay face-down on the floor, pages bunched up and wrinkled now from when it had fallen from her lap in sleep. “If I’d known you were staying that late I would have just gone to bed.”

Killian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was working on a contract and needed feedback from the overseas partner; it’s morning in Singapore so I knew I could get prompt replies. I should have said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I still feel terrible.” He kissed her again and stood, bringing her up with him. “Come on, let’s have a nightcap and you can tell me how to make it better.”

She smiled wanly. “I just need you. That’s all I need to make it better.”

Emma allowed him to lead her to the kitchen. “You have me, Swan, you know that. You’ll always have me.”

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

She woke slowly to the gentle, teasing press of lips against her own. There was a murmur in the back of her mind that sounded like ‘ wake up, darling ’ and she had the bewildering sensation of being in two places at once before a finger brushed against her neck and arousal surged through her body. Instantly she felt more alert, kissing Killian back with newly awakened vigor, and he groaned as she pushed him back, reversing their positions so she lay atop him. “Cheater,” she accused, only allowing them a moment to breathe before coming together again. 

He stroked her mate-mark once more and the swell of arousal almost hurt; she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that lay between them, but Killian’s hand moved down, coaxing them apart to tease his fingers between her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she said, biting her lip at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the warmth pulsing through her body, the sparks of pleasure with every stroke. He ducked down, pressing his lips against her neck and she whimpered at the touch, feeling like she was melting into putty in his arms. “ Tease .”

“I’m a cheater, a tease,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating each word with another kiss. “What’s next? Scoundrel ?”

She cried out as his fingers thrust home, filling her with that delicious stretch she craved. She could feel him moving his fingers inside, teasing her further, and she didn’t know how she wasn’t just soaking his hand with how turned on she was right then. With each thrust of his fingers, he seemed to lift her up and it took her far too long to realize it was a combination of his own urging and her unconscious compliance as she rose up above him. She threw one leg over his waist and felt the head of his cock bump against her thigh; Killian withdrew his fingers and she looked down to watch him rub her juices off his fingers onto his cock as he took it in hand, quickly positioning himself in place for her to sink down on top of him. "Oh fuck me," he moaned as she began to move, her lips finding his mate-mark.

His fingers dug into her hip as she rode him, skin slapping as she chased her pleasure. The combination of their teasing each other’s mate-marks was driving her nearly insane with lust -- she barely noticed when she peaked, the need for more clawing its way through her veins. Killian protested when she lifted herself off him, but he seemed to pick up on the general plan when she turned and got on her hands and knees.

She gasped, sharp and shallow as he pushed in again, her hand grabbing a fistful of blanket for purchase. He felt so much bigger this way— always had since the way he’d taken her that first time. "If we're going to do this like animals, might as well look the part,” he’d said then, and she certainly felt like an animal now as she pushed back onto him in earnest, back arching and throat rough as she keened, pleading for more.

“Greedy girl,” Killian panted through grit teeth, his hips slamming against hers as she cried out. “Drenching my cock, begging for it.”

“ You woke me up,” she retorted, gasping again as he hit a good spot. “There--do that again, fuck .” His hand found her hip again, nails stinging into her skin just enough to pull a groan out of her. Again, he snapped his hips forward, but it’s less frenzied than before, sharper, calculated, and the breath that punched out of her lungs at the next thrust felt laced with fire. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, felt her heart stutter at the way his mark stood out dark against the morning light.

She slipped against the sheet, nearly buckling, but his hand was there before she could, sliding up the length of her torso to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Too-fast, she found herself surrounded by him, his weight half-draped on top of her as he pulled her flush against him and oh, oh . Fuck tumbled out of her again as she twisted to claim a rough kiss. Distracted, his hips slowed at the contact, but she pushed back again with a roll of her hips.

The hand on her shoulder urged her down, his weight shifting off her back as he reared back and her head pressed against the mattress. The angle was just right, a keen tearing from her throat as he resumed speed, driving into her hard and fast and -- “ Fuck, Killian! ”

His hand slipped under her, between her legs, found their way to her overstimulated clit and teased, drawing circles around it and pressing--

Killian’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand. Emma felt her orgasm slip beyond reach for the moment, her concentration broken, and she groaned in frustration. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be too early for anything but an emergency. “Killian, you should see who that was,” she mumbled, her head shifting against the mattress as he pounded into her.

Her husband snarled and that sent a little thrill down her spine, reigniting what had been lost. “Whoever it is should fucking know better than to call when I’m balls deep in my wife.”

She had no idea how to articulate how absurd that was, but he moved his hand again and squeezed her breast, leaving wet streaks of her own arousal along her skin and her core clenched around him in anticipation. He exhaled sharply, another little growl escaping him, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. She felt his fingers move along her skin, dancing up her back and nails scratching just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until they found her mate-mark once more and started tracing around it, lightly circling, pressing just enough--

She saw stars. Burst of color behind squeezed eyelids and an impossible wave of pleasure crashing through her, her legs feeling numb and buckling under her as he rode her through her orgasm until she heard a grunt signaling his own. She slid weakly down onto her stomach, her skin still tingling and her core still shuddering, dragging air into her lungs as fast as she could to try and calm her racing heart. She felt the bed shift behind her, heard Killian’s heavy breathing, then felt him settle between her legs. Before she could fully understand what was happening, she felt his nose brush the sensitive seam of her ass, and then dip lower as his tongue found her dripping, abused, and still fucking aroused cunt. “ Jesus --”

Emma tried to push herself up on her elbows, tried to army-crawl up the bed and away from her insatiable husband’s questing tongue, but he satisfied himself with only a few laps before pulling away. She twisted, flushed and glaring at the smug grin on his face. “Who’s greedy now?” she asked.

“I do love the taste of us together,” he admitted, righting himself and settling back on the pillows.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and summoned all of her strength to get up and go clean herself. Wobbly as it was, she managed the trip to the bathroom and even brought him a washcloth to clean himself up before giving her weary legs a rest and laying next to him. The heady feeling of arousal still burned inside, though more like a smoldering ember pile than the full-on inferno he’d worked her into before, but she pushed it away; she wasn’t in heat yet and her body had limits.

For now.

“So what was that for?” Emma asked.

“Do I need a reason to wake my wife and lavish her with my attentions?” She poked him in the ribs, a particularly ticklish spot, and he squirmed. “Cut it out,” Killian said, giggling. “Your smell woke me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My smell?” she asked, her voice flat. “You know, from anyone else those might be fighting words.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “And far be it from me to challenge you, darling. No, I believe it may be close to time, your scent has… shifted somewhat.”

Emma let her head fall back with a groan. Motherfucker. Well, it was to be expected; it’s the normal time for her to go into heat, it was just… the worst. Though, having a mate would make it exponentially easier than previous years; she had that to look forward to, at least. She just hated being completely ruled by her hormones, hated having so little control over her own body. And of course Killian would be the first to pick up on it, of course he’d know her so well that he’d pick up on even the slightest change in her scent. Idly, she wondered if he could tell because he’d smelled her in full-blown heat before, but in truth she believed he’d know any changes in her body and her scent almost before she did.

Puts the kibosh on any cutesy surprise things whenever we get around to having pups , she thought wryly.

“Judging by your enthusiastic response, you’re still unhappy about the prospect,” Killian remarked.

She sighed. “It’s not that. I love nothing more than using you as my personal sex toy, I just… hate everything else about it.”

“We could try a last-minute honeymoon,” he suggested. “We did talk about going somewhere this spring.”

“It’ll be wicked expensive, not to mention both of our bosses would kill us for leaving so last minute. And don’t even try to tell me Liam would be understanding, he’d find something to harp at you about.”

“Technically I’m my own boss.”

“Yes, but what captain leaves the helm to go fuck his wife silly for a week?”

His teeth flash in a grin that sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure plenty do, particularly when the captain’s wife is as beautiful and alluring as you. And I do have minions to keep things running, you know I don’t do everything right?”

“You have to stop calling your officers ‘minions’.”

“I pay their salaries, I can call them what I like. Besides, which is less of a mouthful, Chief Operating Officer or minion?”

“Coming from the man who takes an hour to tell a five minute story.”

His grin widened. “One of the many charms you love about me.” She rolled her eyes and the bed shifted as Killian reached for his phone, which pinged a reminder that he had a missed call and a voicemail. “Though I could have reason for it, seeing as how one of them called at a most inopportune time.”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth as he listened to the message, the tinny voice reaching her ears perfectly as questions even she knew could have waited a few hours were relayed. If he was right, and it was reasonable to assume he was, then it would be easier to just combine the honeymoon and her week in heat. It was extremely annoying that there wasn��t any way to really tell when her body would go into heat, outside of paying attention to signs like any subtle changes in scent, and they couldn’t have planned this ages in advance. The thought of paying all the last minute booking fees made her skin crawl, but she also knew he wouldn’t suggest such a thing if it wasn’t feasible.

Marrying up a couple of tax brackets was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Killian tossed his phone back on the bedside table, muttering darkly to himself, and she settled against him again. “How about this,” she started, “we take today to make sure a quick getaway isn’t going to be a problem, and then go in a couple of weeks? I don’t think it’s going to happen in the next few days and we need some time to get our shit together.”

“Eloquent as always, Swan,” he said. “And the full moon is next week, so we should schedule around that as well.”

Remembering that gave her another sense of relief: for some reason, it wasn’t common for their kind to go into heat the week of the full moon. Some did, but it was extremely rare, and always led to complications with the litter. She thought it might have something to do with how her monthly shifting stopped when she’d been pregnant before, nature realizing that changing forms while pregnant wasn’t good for the mother or the fetus, but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask about that. Again, something else that the more scientific-minded of their community were studying, but it was difficult.

And it wasn’t like there was The Scientific Werewolf Monthly to publish any of that research.

Maybe there should be.

“Well, that settles that,” she said, her mood buoyed by the lunar calendar. “We’ll go in a couple of weeks. Plunk me on a beach somewhere that’s not Boston in winter and I’ll be set.”

Killian’s expression was a thrilling mix of joy and sin. “Then I’d better make sure it’s a private beach, because I have no plans of letting you wear anything more than a bikini the whole time we’re gone,” he said, shifting to loom over her as he spoke, the last words breathed against her lips before he caught hers up in another kiss.

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

The wave of pleasure that had been building inside finally crashed over her, sending ripples up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She sighed, sated for the time being and pushed away the latest of her spent toys, reclining back on the silk maroon sheets to watch as he took his leave from her bed. They all knew the drill, the men lurking in wait for her summons; she hated for them to linger, but she did indulge in the view as they stumbled away from her room.

For now, though, Regina was tired. That was the third one today, and it was barely noon on the first morning of her heat. She rolled her head on her neck, as much as she was able, joints cracking and muscles stretching. She wasn’t a young pup anymore, as difficult as it was to admit some days, so while being ravished three times by three different, handsome young things in one morning certainly sounded like an ideal way to spend one’s time, it was proving to take a toll on her.

She didn’t like to think too much about what that would mean.

She didn’t care for the reminders, the lines at the corners of her eyes getting a little deeper if she looked too long, the silver strands she kept carefully colored, and now her body tiring a little sooner than it had the year before.

Any slip might give rise to rumors, and rumors often lead to those same men lurking downstairs foolish ideas about power.

No, for now she would rest a bit, take lunch, and assess what else she could do to keep her hand on their leashes until just the right moment.

Her phone rang midway through lunch. Annoyed, Regina answered in her usual, clipped way. “This had better be important.”

- She’s leaving town for a week, her and that British wolf of hers. My sources say it’s probably their honeymoon, but we have to remember the season. If she comes back pupped-- -

“I can make my own conclusions, thank you Sidney,” she snapped, her mood darkening. “Keep tabs on them if you can, and the Nolans. We may have to move faster than anticipated.”

She hung up before he could agree to anything -- it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to agree. He just had to follow orders.

She sat still for a moment, staring at her plate, then moved suddenly, throwing her tablet against the wall. The news that Emma Swan, previous heir apparent to the pack she now ruled, had taken another mate after all the work she’d done to destroy that last relationship had sent her into a rage that kept her people on their toes for weeks. She didn’t need any reason to allow support of any kind for that little bitch to rise, and a newly mated pair with a fresh litter on the way would definitely give reason for people to remember and feel sympathy for the girl. To start rumors or petitions to restore her place.

To revolt.

She’d put in too much work expanding, improving, and keeping her pack in line to let the memory of the old alphas resurface.

Snarling, Regina got to her feet. Rage mixed with arousal, the need to take control of something overpowering anything else, and she pressed the intercom that would summon another one of her playthings to the bedroom.

She hoped he had stamina, though she didn’t quite care if she ended up breaking him in the end. He was easily replaced, just as all the others were.

She was in control here. Not them. Not any of the hotheads she dealt with on a regular basis.

And never, never Emma Swan.

[cc-0420]

au of an au: han and boba parent trap cody and obi-wan

“i’m not doing it.”

“is it really that bad?”

“there is no negotiations. you are his excellency’s best bounty hunter,” the droid translated as the slug looked to boba, “and you are his best smuggler,” he said turning to han. “the two of you will have to work together for this job or neither will get paid nor have his services again.”

“if it’s full pay, i’m in,” han responded, “no reason to turn away from this job.”

“you doubt pirates, child?” han scowls at that. “both you and fett will get the pay promised if you complete the task.”

fett didn’t even glance at han from his helmet, “if he dies, it’s not my fault,” and walks out the door.

“man, you need to chill,” han follows him like a loth-cat, “we got a better chance together, right?”

not responding to the question, “we’re taking my ship,” boba sneers, continuing his path.

“you know, my ship made the kessel run in less than 12 parsecs!”

“i don’t care.”

~~~

the ride to florrum was silent as the two men were up to their own devices. upon landing they were greeted by a group of pirates.

“what can i do for you, boys?” what han assumed was the leader inquired.

before han had a chance to speak, his companion butt in, “we were hired to pick up the product for jabba. i assume you are hondo?”

i see he avoided mentioning that were to capture this hondo under jabba’s orders, han thought, would cody do this? Maybe he should’ve commed him for advice.

“captain hondo, i am. best pirate in the galaxy,” he made a jester to the building, “come on in and we can get you a drink to settle in-“

everything went black.

~~~

“why did you do that? the drugging normally works!” a voice broke out from the ringing in his ears

“sorry, boss, but I thought the helmeted one was going to pull a blaster on you.”

after a moment, han’s eyes were finally able to peel open. he was inside a cell, it seemed, with two weequays watching him, one of which being hondo. before he could quip to them, they already left and locked the door.

han began to look around, his mind running the simulators cody would make him go through for situations such as these, when his eyes landed on the body in armor.

he snorted, not so mighty, are you, fett?

han worked to untie the bonds from his arms, then shifting to the door. kriff, he’s never seen anything like it.

suddenly, a moan was heard as fett began waking up, “what the kriff happened?”

“we got captured, no thanks to you.”

“well, it’s not like you did anything!”

“i’m a smuggler. hurting people is not my job!”

fett didn’t respond, but han would bet 10 credits he was rolling his eyes under his helmet.

“did you try and get out?”

“if i could, i wouldn’t be here,” yet still held up his free wrists, “I’ve never seen a lock like this,” han continued pointing towards the door.

“i wouldn’t have expected you to. hondo has captured jedi before. he knows his stuff,” by then, fett already freed his hands.

“how do you-?”

“ah! you boys are up!” before han could finish his question, hondo was already barging in, “and yes. i once captured my best friend, obi-wan kenobi and a few other force users in this cell.”

“oh, i know. though he wouldn’t consider you a best friend.”

“how would you know? sadly, he is long dead. i was sad to hear when the jedi were killed. he will always have a special place in my heart.”

fett scoffed, “thanks for the story. can we leave?”

“nope, jabba’s been a pain in my side for years. instead, we’ll bargain you off for the highest bidder. you both seem pretty valued by the empire…” hondo ended walking out.

“that hypocrite!”

“oh, stop pouting under there.”

the next day passed slowly, the door only opening for food. han was growing homesick. he was with cody for 5 years now and chewbacca 2. he’s taken jobs without them, but at least he was kept busy. fett lounged in his corner, sitting still. it was creepy how he never took off the mask, and han made sure to let him know.

one night, he pulls out his holo of cody. it was hard to forget, but it was easier to have on him on long missions away. the glow from it lit up the room and caught the bounty hunter’s attention.

“what’s that?”

“none of your business,” han reached to turn it off. fett clearly saw it and reached into his own armor.

he pulled out his own holocron and the same picture emerged, cody and a man with red hair and beard. when he first received the holo, han would ask cody about the man in the robes, but would always get brushed off. he learned not to ask as he recognized the faraway look in his eyes.

“how do you have that?” han spit out. cody was his family, through thick and thin and fett wasn’t welcome.

“ben is my guardian,” he said pointing to the other man.

“you know him?”

“obviously.”

the thick air was broken by fett first

“how do you know cody?”

“he’s my father,” and before fett could respond, “well, the closest thing to a father i ever had.”

fett stared again and before han could say anything else, he reached for the helmet.

underneath was the eyes he knew to love. the lips that pulled into a firm line whenever han misbehaved. the nose that would scrunch up when han disgusted him. in front of him was a young copy of cody. a clone.

“you’re a clone.”

“i’m a person.”

“why are you younger than cody?”

“cause i’m a person.”

that didn’t answer han’s questions.

“do you work for the empire like the clones?” fett asked.

“what do you mean? cody doesn’t work for the empire. the clones are there against their will! there’s chips in their brain! cody told me!”

“really?” unlike most times he talked, fett wasn’t being sarcastic, “if that’s true…”

“so, cody knows ben?” han pushed. cody told him many stories of his brothers, but not much of anything else.

“he was his jedi general before he shot him down,” fett’s eyes trailed their faces on the holo, “no one knew of the chips and began blaming the clones.”

“is that why you wear the mask?”

“no!” boba rose from his makeshift seat, “how many times do i have to tell you i’m not one of them? this helmet was my fathers. i was never a mindless soldier.”

“they’re not mindless soldiers!” growing irritated, han thought back to all the times cody stood up for him when he was in trouble. the tales he would tell of his brothers.

boba shrunk at that and whispered to himself, “they’re not mindless soldiers.”

the silence fell over them again. han trying to make out the emotions on boba’s face, while he was looking anywhere but at han.

“cody was a better brother to me than he should have been. i treated the clones like scum, but now i know this truth,” boba waved his hand around, “he never would have wanted us to fight. neither would ben.”

“i’m sorry for your loss.”

“excuse me?” boba stared, “ben is not dead,”

han stared back, “what? you said cody shot him. and cody never talks about him.”

“well,” boba paused, thinking of the pros and the cons. pros being that ben could see cody again and boba wouldn’t have to watch him be all weepy. con would be that han is lying. he weighed his options before coming to a decision, “that was the point. the jedi had to be believed to have been wiped out.”

han contemplated on his end. despite never talking about ben explicitly, cody always talked about how amazing his general was. if fett really knew him, and it seemed like he definitely did, maybe they could come to an agreement, “cody would want to know.”

“i know,” before thinking, boba added on, “they cared for each other too much.”

rather than dwell on that phrase, “can we get them to meet up again? after we get out of here.”

“ben wouldn’t want to give up his position,” boba put his holo away, “but you are right about them wanting to know. i have an idea.”

~~~

the escape was easy once the two worked together. they also decided, screw jabba and abandoned their mission. both of them were smart enough not to have a debt with him anyway.

they decided that they will each send a signal to their respected guardians saying they need help on tatooine due to a mission gone wrong. it was easy for han to come cody, in which the commander responded he’ll be there in a few hours. on the other hand, boba didn’t have a comm for ben, with the fear of giving up his position. instead, he got in contact with a tuskin raider.

han stared in shock as boba let out a series of growls and hand motions to the creatures before they ran off. at his disgruntled look, boba replied with a simple, “ben helped them out a couple times,” that didn’t answer any of his questions.

ben got their first. he looked much more aged compared to the holo. the man gave boba his best wtf face. “kenobi,” han’s head shot up at that, “sorry to bring you out here.”

suddenly, the man locked up, all emotion wiped and reaching in his robes, “are you turning me in boba?”

“no, i didn’t mean to scare you,” he looked to han, “this is a companion i made on my last bounty. he has some news for you.”

really, fett? you’re making me talk? luckily, cody’s ship was pulling in overhead, but the elderly man got more on edge. han quickly reached for his holo and pulled open the picture of the men.

“umm, this is my father figure,” he said pointed to cody, “boba said he knew you and that you should talk it out.”

ben glanced between him, boba, and the ship that was slowly opening up.

“i didn’t give away our position, but you need to know,” boba said, looking towards the ship.

cody emerged and rushed to han, enveloping him into a hug, “are you alright? did these people help you?”

his eyes swept over boba, not recognizing the armor and turned to ben who was looking at him like he saw a ghost.

“general?”

“cody?”

“i’m sorry. i couldn’t- i’m sorry…”

before he could go on, obi-wan swept him into a hug, “it’s okay, commander, it’s okay…”

[elionwriter]

MY FAV STAR WARS COUPLE DYNAMICS:

(for the sake of this post let's all just pretend no one dies, ok?)

Anakin - Padme: their relationship started with pure drama and really bad, corny pick up lines and it just goes on that way. Even when they are happily exiled on Naboo with their children and everyone knows about them, whenever they talk about their love or tell the story to Luke and Leia it's always with the tones of a 'larger than life situation'. Obviously Anakin is the drama queen who really pushes it (and is still salty he had to give up his title as Jedi Master) but Padme fell for him when he did the whole whiny speech about sand and married him, she secretly supports this s***t! 😝

Han - Leia: bickering is their love language. Screaming to impose supremacy is their flirting. The thing is, they never bicker for serious stuff, because they actually agree on what matters and get along as a couple, it's the principle of things! Sometimes a friend of Ben overhears them and goes 😱 "I'm really sorry for intruding on this, pal. Will your parents be alright?" And Ben with the calmest expression will answer "They literally do this all the time". It's the silence that's worriesome. When Leia is just too tired to keep fighting after hours of doing so with politicians, when Han doesn't bother to stay to face the argument and just hops on the Falcon again, THAT'S when they realise they are falling out. So they push duty and lust for adventure aside to go back spending quality time together and patching things up. Sure enough, the bickering starts again and Ben is like "😌 aaah everything is fine again".

Din - Luke: they are the picture perfect couple. They literally never argue, at best they poke eachother when one of the two does something the other doesn't entirely agree on. They have each other's back in any instance, support every choice and are there for backup when others want a fight or have something to say either on Din's leadership or Luke's approach to the Jedi code and teachings. It took them forever to actually get together because they acted like shy teenagers on their first crush and Leia, Han and Cara had to practically push them into each other's arms, but once they got there they were solid a couple as a rock. Others look at them and think they are either disgustingly mushy or still in a 'honeymoon face', because NO ONE has such a stress-free marriage. Din and Luke truly don't get what the fuss and all the drama's about. So even though they end up practically parenting the space version of the kids from 'Cheaper by the dozen' they act like parental figures to their friends as well. Life as Manda'lor and the Reviver of the Jedi order can be hell, but together they are just balanced like that and can face everything! They even create a new co-op fighting style for Jedi/Mandalorians that becomes the terror and amazement of the Galaxy for centuries to come!😌😏💪

Kannan - Hera: very similar to Dinluke except they do at times have some small moments of tension because Hera is a fighter to the core and Kannan can't help but wonder if the battle will ever truly end. But his queen's passion and resolve is so bright and steeled that he can't help but fall in love a little more every time and follow, knowing it's the right thing to do. They have an example to set for their son, after all. Kannan will absolutely love Jacen and will introduce Ezra to his son (once Sabine and Ashoka bring him back) as his older brother. Much like when he trained Ezra or faced Sabine, Kannan will sometimes doubt himself and wonder if he's acting like a good parent to Jacen. Hera will smile and reassure him, describing to him the bright and happy smile on their son's face or how Jecen's nose scrunches and his long, greenish ears wiggle in delight whenever Kannan plays with him or cuddles him. As Hera says so, Kannan holds her and feels like he can actually see it too.

Sabine - Ezra: After Ezra is brought back to his family from wherever or whatever happened to him after facing Thrawn, both of them will just indulge in sudden hugs or touches to make sure the other is actually there. Of course, they first think of their bond as a solid friendship and camaraderie, because that's what it was when they left off. The extra touching is just the response to being apart for so long and being worried for each other. But then Sabine notices that Ezra actually looks really good with long hair and the scruffy beard he grew out. She catches herself thinking of how warm and safe if feels in his arms and mentally kicks herself because she's a Mandalorian, all she should need is a loaded blaster to feel safe. Ezra, on the other hand, starts playing with Sabine's hair when complimenting her new dye and suddenly finds himself cupping her face like it's the most natural thing in the world. Long story short, they fall for eachother hard and become the prototype of the couple "my boyfriend/girlfriend is my best friend". When they are comfortable with their new status, Ezra goes back flirting dorkishly with her like he did all those years back when they first met and Sabine will tease him by shooting his advances down.

Ashoka - Bo Katan: joke's on Bo-katan for cringing back in the day at her sister's relationship with a Jedi. She thought destiny or the force or whatever was really messing with her when she realized that her rival and pupil, Din Djarin, the new leader of Mandalorians was also falling helplessly in love with a Jedi (Obi-Wan's student nonetheless). When she hears Sabine Wren and her Jedi boy also got together she stops questioning it. The thing is that she herself has been inexplicably, undeniably charmed and hooked to a Jedi for years now. The very same Jedi she had teased didn't have enough booty, what felt like a lifetime prior. But she's Bo-Katan, she can be in angry denial about anything. Ashoka, on the other hand, has seen and has been conditioned too much on what attachment does to a Jedi, even if she doesn't consider herself one anymore. So, even if the chemistry between them and the long lingering stares are real, their love is always kept a quiet, unspoken thing. Whenever they call eachother "my old friend" they know they actually mean more, but leave it at that. Everyone around them can't help wondering 'are they a thing or...?!' but they never feed the theories and gossip. They know what they are and mean for each other when they are alone in the same room, talking about the past or what must be done in the future and Ashoka's mere presence is enough to cool down the ever-present burning rage inside of Bo. Meanwhile, the other can't help but admire how single minded and devoted to her people and culture the Mandalorian princess is, how she never gave up on them, despite everything. They smile softly at each other, then one of them breaks the spell by leaving. They go back to their own business and life untill destiny or the force or whatever brings them back into eachother's orbit.

Revan - Carth: normally they act very much like Leia and Han with the bickering and teasing bit but then Revan has one of her memories returning or is haunted by how she basically condemned her lifelong best friend Malak to a terrible death and Carth instantly does a 180° shift becoming the most caring, comforting and tender partner. She'll hide into his chest until the crisis in over. Sometimes it can go on for days and Revan is oh, so grateful of how patient and good Carth is to her. Then, at times, Carth is the one burying his head in her chest and she's the one doing the tender, hair strokes. Carth needs a lot of reassuring and might get upset and fret over even what appears to be a trivial thing. He's trying to heal and get better but the long, long years of solitude, hurt and paranoia are hard to iron down. Expecially when Carth seems to have an instinct that puts a Jedi to shame, foreseeing a crisis neither she nor Bastila had picked up. But he is making an effort to improve and she's proud of him, even as he tries very clumsily to patch things up with his son Dustil. She doesn't really step in that matter more than she has to, since Dustil is clearly not happy nor comfortable with the idea of them being together yet. Carth will sometimes open his heart to her and say something deeply meaningful on how he wants her to stay ( when she looks particularly haunted and about to leave without a work of warning) and be happy but does so with such awkward word choices that Revan just cannot refrain from laughing at his face and making puns. It's at this point that the back and forth teasing resumes. There is no denying they are still deeply wounded individuals and they are at their best when their friends are there to lighten the mood and show love to the both of them. Because they could easily go down the path of drama like Anakin and Padme but they choose the Ebon Hawk crew shenanigans instead.

Obi Wan - Satine: their love is stored in the memory of that glorious time they spent together in their youth. A moment in which no responsibility or sense of honor could keep them from giving in to that feeling of want and need for each other. It's a love that never truly went away, never left space for anyone else, but it never fully grew and bloomed either. So years down the line, that's what it is for Obi-Wan, a pleasant memory. He would never change how things went afterwards, but he wouldn't give up those memories and feelings for anything in the world. Satine feels the same, mostly. There are nights that she falls asleep wondering what could have been if only she had talked up at the decisive moment and dreams of a life spent together with Obi-Wan. But when she wakes up, she sobers up and goes back to her things. It's when she looks at her Korkie smile and notices how resembling to his secret father he is that she is truly at peace. She managed to keep a peace of Obi-Wan in her life.

Cal - Merrin: I have no idea for this one, but just stop and consider the possible 'nightsisters babies' though! Wouldn't they be the cutest things ever?! 😀

Sorry Cara Dune, you just haven't met the woman of your life yet. 😔

Also, I kinda like Zeb and Callus too but I don't really ship them enough to add them here, you know? Anyway I'm sure they make a lovely couple.

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

you got a fetish for my love, i push you out and you come right back

summary: the softest man in the world is in love

warnings: nick is a warning. how dare he. smut. smoking (but we’re trying to get him to stop). some of that daddy shit bc ugh, that beard.

word count: around 5,320

pairing: nick vaughan x reader

a/n: let me tell you, it is weird writing nick one second, the softest, sweetest man, and then switching over to ransom, aka satan.

“You shouldn’t be smoking.”

The man with his back to you turned around, arching an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

You brought your hands up to your waist, looking as confident as you could possibly make yourself look. You didn’t have a mirror on you, but you would bet it wasn’t very convincing. “Um, second-hand smoke. Third-hand smoke. Not to mention what it could do to you.”

Moving closer, he took another brief drag. “And what’s that?”

You huffed. Really? You were going to reach way back into your 8th-grade health class memories for that. “Lung disease, it can cause cancer, like, everywhere, heart disease—”

“But you’re already taking care of my heart, angel.”

You fell silent at that, frowning.

He continued to close the gap between you. “What else?”

“It’s bad for your skin,” you asserted, tone firm despite how close he was getting. “Causes wrinkles.”

“That so?”

You nodded, refusing to step back as he stopped mere inches before you. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re my father.”

He smirked, dropping his cigarette on the floor and stepping on it with the toe of his boot. Boots that were far too expensive to be stepping on cigarettes with. Hell, he shouldn’t even have been outside with them. “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

Your gaze moved off to the side and finally, you stepped away to create some distance. ‘You said you were going to stop, Nick.”

“I know, I’m trying.”

“Try harder. I’m being serious, okay? People die—”

He moved back in front of you and took your chin in his hand, forcing your gaze up to his. “I’m working on it.”

“If you really care about me, you’ll stop.”

“I’m gonna stop,” he promised. “Soon. Come on, don’t give me those eyes.”

He loved your eyes. He had to have told you about a hundred times by now, claimed he liked the innocence in them that never seemed to die out. No matter how many times he took you up to his hotel room and fucked you in every filthy way he could think of. Sure, it was pretty sick sometimes, but he always touched you so softly, whispered the sweetest things to you, and held you afterward.

Your eyes could make him do just about anything, he would often declare. Except, apparently, stop smoking.

“Come on, I’m sorry.”

You crossed your arms, pulling out of his hold. “You’re only sorry you got caught.”

“No, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“And don’t be sorry to just me, be sorry to yourself. I think you need healthy lungs for your music career, right?”

He lifted his eyebrows, still amused at how serious you were being. No one in New York took smoking seriously.

“Also, you ever stop and think about what would happen to me if you weren’t here?” That was a little on the sneaky side. You knew that there was the overall scenario of you being lonely, but he would soon start to think about how that would mean you would be with other people.

He scoffed, feigning calmness. “No, I don’t. I don’t want you to, either.”

You didn’t need to hear it, you knew he could connect the dots. “You are forcing me to.”

“Angel, what’s all this about?” he wondered. “Why are you being such a brat?”

“I’m not being a brat,” you immediately protested. Even though you knew he didn’t mind, there was just something in you that twisted at the thought of being bratty. You were not trying to be argumentative even, you were just worried.

“You want daddy to spank you?”

You looked around with wide eyes. Not that anyone in New York had the time or interest to listen to anyone else’s conversations, but still, this was private. “Nick.”

He tsked. “Nick?”

You sighed, casting a look around. “There are too many people here.”

He chuckled. “No one’s listening, angel.”

“I’m not being bratty,” you muttered. “I’m just concerned about you. Since when is that a crime?”

He smiled, reaching his hand out for you. You didn’t waste any time nearly wrapping your entire body around his arm. “What do you want?”

You were not getting away this time, he was also in a mood. Evidently, since he usually spoiled you to the point of letting you get away with “misbehaving” if you apologized or feigned discomfort.

“Take me upstairs, daddy.” It was hardly above a whisper, but it thrilled him to no end that he’d managed to get you to call him that outside of the absolute comfort of the bedroom.

Nick liked you feeling safe with him. He’d never met a more trusting soul, someone almost naive. However, it had taken him a long fucking time to get that sincere trust from you. He picked up on the body language, the things you wouldn’t say. That was why he could give the date for the night you finally let him fuck you with the lights on, the night you finally stayed with him until morning, the night you finally gave him your number because he had convinced you to sneak away from your dad to meet him at the hotel and you had to get back home but you still wanted to talk to him. He could give the date for the first morning you woke up and put on one of his shirts, the morning you let him eat you out for the first time, the morning you let him fuck you against the hotel window.

He wrapped his arms around you and started to lead you inside. It had been almost a year now and you were obsessed with Nick. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and he was kind and gentle, but also passionate and sometimes a little rough when he knew you wanted him to be. It was never mindless, hard fucking. Even when he made it hurt, he held you so close, so tight, his eyes would remain on yours the whole time. He would wipe away your tears and continue bucking his hips. He would whisper to you, coo at you, and make you fall apart until you were so exhausted you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

You were pretty sure you were in love with him. He would be the first. Sure, there was your first boyfriend who you had wanted to be your first for everything. He’d given you a promise ring and told you that he wanted to wait until you were his wife. That one didn’t end well. Your third boyfriend, you thought that one was real. You’d had sex with him, and then he completely disappeared. To this day, you had no idea where he was. But you knew now, those things you’d felt for them, they were so small, so weak. What you felt for Nick was consuming, you felt like every inch of you belonged to him, like you were made for him.

In the elevator, with an elderly couple, an older man, and a party of four younger women that looked like they were on their way to a club, Nick had his lips to your ear. “Angel, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re crying. You know I love those sounds you make and the look you give me when you just can’t take anymore. When your beautiful, little cunt is used and aching and dripping with my cum. But that’s only after I have you on the bed, wet, squirming, begging daddy to make you feel good.”

You felt like you were on fire. If anyone heard, you would be mortified, you would never be able to leave your house again. Things like this were supposed to be private, between the people who were doing it. Nick had the audacity to make some of it almost public. You would admit that there was the tiniest bit of thrill, but most of it was fear and panic.

He touched the side of your face and you startled a little, one of your hands coming up to settle over his forearm. “Jesus, you’re beautiful and so fucking…innocent.”

You were not innocent. You weren’t even sure what he meant by that. Ever. When he said it, you were confused each time.

“The thought of your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, trying to take all you can because you’re so good to me, those eyes staring up at me…”

You swallowed thickly, eyes moving to the elevator buttons. How many more god damn floors were there? The elevator stopped again seconds later, and the elderly couple got out. Fewer people but you still didn’t feel any less nervous.

“Afterward, your sweet, tight pussy will be dripping. You know how wet you get after you suck my cock.”

Embarrassingly wet. He was fascinated the first time you’d done it, then he laid you out on the bed and when he made the discovery, he ate you out until you could barely remember what year it was.

“Then I’m gonna have you on top of me, angel. You’re so good at it, I swear you were made just to ride my cock. Remember what you were begging me for last time?”

You remembered and instantly felt your skin burning all over again.

“Maybe I’ll fuck your—”

The elevator stopped on your floor and you rushed out. The group of girls was also getting out, creating some time for you to get away from Nick and breathe. He was always intense, and he never stopped pushing you. You didn’t necessarily hate it. Really, you knew you liked it, but you could never admit that to him, his behavior would just get worse.

He found you with your back pressed against the door, waiting patiently for him. He’d been staying here for several months; he had the same room because he’d wanted to give you a key. For emergencies, he claimed. If you ever needed a place to get away, even if he wasn’t home. It had only happened a few times, he wouldn’t say a word when he would find you bundled up in his bed. He would just join you under the sheets and make you come several times, at least.

He set his hands on your hips and you looked up to him. “What’s on your mind tonight?”

You woke up that morning just knowing. You were in love with Nick and you were terrified. You didn’t want to be in love, not with him. With his music career taking off, he couldn’t want something serious. You figured this was just him wasting time. When he was an established name, he would go out and find himself a proper partner. It wasn’t you, this shy, small thing with no backbone, terrible parents, and no solid plans for your future.

But why ruin a good thing? You wanted to let it last while you could. You smiled at him and shook your head. “Nothing, really. I missed you.”

He smiled back. “I missed you, too.”

You didn’t live in New York with your father, but you had been visiting a lot more frequently. Your father was thrilled about it, thrilled enough not to want to question it. Your mother took it as an insult and didn’t ask a single question about why. It was honestly the perfect crime.

It had only been three weeks since you’d last been with Nick, you were allowing for less time to pass in between the nights you spent with him. You once went a month and a half, how unimaginable that felt—you knew you wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. You would go crazy without him being able to touch you for six weeks.

“You could stay,” he pointed out. “Here. With me.”

You scoffed. “No, I can’t.”

“You could apply to NYU, I’m sure you’ll get in. You could start building your life over here. If not with me, why not live with your dad?”

This was getting serious and you were worried this conversation would wreck everything. Nick thought he wanted something, but only because he was scared. You didn’t want to uproot your entire life for something fleeting.

“I don’t want to talk about this tonight,” you said quietly.

“Okay. But we will. Later.”

You nodded—a lie. You wouldn’t even be with him much longer. You had breakfast you’re your dad and then you would be on a flight back to your mother’s. “Yeah.”

Smiling, he asked, “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

You shrugged. “I don’t want to talk.”

He hummed. “No? You don’t have more scolding to do?”

“I can wait,” you teased. Your eyes flit to either side just to make sure no one was around. “But right now, I just want you to touch me.”

He bent down just slightly to pick you up by your thighs. You eagerly wrapped yourself around him and pressed your lips to his, kissing him like it’d been years.

He struggled to open the door, but you didn’t seem to mind that you could get caught at any moment, you seemed completely distracted by him. That was his goal, make your time here so good that eventually, you just wouldn’t be able to leave him.

Finally, he managed to get you inside the room. You had it all memorized, even with your eyes closed you knew exactly where he always was. He was leading you down the hallway, past the kitchen and the living area, to the door at the end of the walkway. Past the bathroom, past the dresser full of sheet music and records.

He laid you out on the bed delicately, pulling away so he could stare at you. You moved to pull your skirt up, but he caught your hands in his. “Not yet.”

He started at your feet. He pulled off your shoes and began kissing your calves, a touch that felt so distant through your tights.

You whined. “Daddy.”

“You’re going to be patient, angel.”

And that was that. You never argued with him, rarely disobeyed. You were perfect, you were good. You were, as he so fondly called you, an angel that did everything she was supposed to do. Not just for him, but for everyone. He knew that about you, knew that you never liked to make trouble for anyone. Even your dad, who had been almost completely absent during your childhood, off chasing his current wife. Even your mother, who was mean, unsupportive, and childish. You were sweet as could be, well-behaved, soft-spoken, bright-eyed, and glowing. He thought you were perfect.

Biting your lip, paying close attention to how much you were moving, you watched in near silence as he continued to press his lips up your legs. As soon as his eyes flickered up to yours, your heart was pounding. There was a lot about Nick that you just didn’t understand.

You could look at yourself in the mirror and understand why people thought you were pretty, but of course, you did not think as highly of yourself as Nick thought of you. Alternatively, he could not do the same. He could not understand why you liked looking at him in the mornings, why you liked to trace his features with your fingers, why you spent so much time just kissing his face whenever you got the chance. You were baffled that he could look like that and not know what he did to people.

He blushed a lot. When you accidentally told him, the first time, that you thought he was beautiful—never again would you drink wine with him—and now, all the deliberate times after that. Because unintentional or not, you meant it and you wanted him to know. When you would take him in your mouth and he had his hands at his sides, leaving you to control everything, and when you took so much of him that you would gag and choke, he was permanently flushed. When he played for you, forget it.

He was at the hemline of your skirt and started pushing it up, kissing at the insides of your thighs. You bit down harder on your lip as he continued up, up, up until he kissed your pussy. Over tights and your panties, it was still good enough that you shuddered. You could feel his beard, some random hairs managing to poke into the open spots of your tights. It was a feeling that reminded you of being home, not with either of your parents now, but when they were still together in your first home. Nick was comfort and security, he was warmth and so much raw emotion.

You brought one hand up to press your fingers to your lips. You were so wet that you could feel the material against you was damp. He always knew how to do that to you, how to get you so wanting. And the neighbors always knew when you were there, they would play music because you were so embarrassingly loud, not that he was ever considerate about that. You just wanted to pretend you had some dignity, at least for a while.

He kissed across your thigh and up the side of your hip, back across until he could kiss down the opposite side. You remembered you used to hate when he would do this, when there wasn’t a part of you that he wouldn’t at least devote a moment of attention to. You didn’t hate it now, you noticed it made you a lot more confident. You didn’t care how tight a skirt was around your hips or that a skirt was so short that everyone could see your thighs touching. It wasn’t even his goal and it wasn’t dependent on his interest in you at all, but you knew he was the cause.

You often wondered if he looked at everyone like this. It really hadn’t been long, but sometimes you swore he might feel the same about you. You’d always wrote it off as your age, but how would someone his age honestly fall in love with you? And if he wasn’t, why the hell did he look at you the way he did?

“How many lives have you ruined?”

His eyebrows rose and he pulled his mouth away from you. “I’m sorry?”

“You look at me like that, you kiss me like that—”

“Like what?”

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, you weren’t sure how to put it into words. The last thing you wanted to do was accuse him of acting or pretending. That was one of the few boundary lines with Nick that was quickly established—he didn’t like analysis of his emotions. They were his own and he didn’t want anyone to presume that they knew them better than him. You truly didn’t mind. You’d come from a toxic environment of men who would sooner die than cry and couldn’t healthily express their anger if the world depended on it. “You know like what.”

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.” He leaned back down, kissing either knee once. “But I won’t make you, I want you to want to say it.”

First time he’d ever taken that route. He teased you a lot, like challenging your views. And he liked those rare times you could challenge his. You’d both talked and talked until you managed to get to this place where you were both completely comfortable with what you were. He had to compromise on how casual this could seem at times, and you had to compromise on how obscenely intimate it was to you sometimes. And though you both compromised, it was still hard to see the other’s point of view. What was he so scared of with ‘casual’? You, on the other hand, dreaded falling for someone who couldn’t reciprocate.

He reached for your tights and slowly pulled them down. Again, he moved to where he was exposing skin and scattered kisses all over you. He deliberately got as close to your pussy as he could without ever touching you, several times, and enjoyed that you gasped and shivered each time.

He didn’t pull your underwear out of his way before he finally kissed you there. He went on like this, curious to see just how much you could take. You tried not to ask for more, to feed into his ego, and you succeeded for several minutes. You could feel his tongue and his lips, the texture of your panties was slight stimulation, but as time went on, you craved him more.

When you finally broke, your eyes were filled with tears, your hands were shaking as you reached for him, and you couldn’t form a single coherent word. Instead of pulling your panties down and eating your pussy, he moved up your body and removed your sweater and your bra. Again, he was kissing you all over, but you could hardly focus on anything other than your throbbing pussy.

“Daddy, please,” you whimpered.

He moved his mouth up until he could kiss your lips. He settled down on the bed beside you and pulled away, sitting you up a little. You took his cue and shifted up on the bed until you could rest on the headboard.

You watched as his hand reached for you, holding your breath until he was sliding one finger into you. “Fuck, daddy.” Your hips bucked almost immediately, silently begging for more. He added a second finger and you turned to hide your face against his chest.

He curled his fingers slowly, focusing on the sounds you made, the way your body would tense and shudder, and soon enough, he’d found that blissful spot that he knew made you see stars.

You clumsily reached for his pants, taking far too long to get your hands on his thick cock. You felt yourself get so much wetter, remembering just how big he felt inside you. Not that you were experienced when he’d found you, but taking his cock had been so delightfully painful and you kind of liked that he was the first man really stretching you out like that.

“Fuck,” he breathed against the side of your face. “Watch my fingers, angel, watch me fuck you with them.”

You turned down, paying attention to how they moved, and the wet sounds from your pussy. You slowly moved your hand along his cock, wanting—but too shy to ask for—him to cover your body with his cum. He preferred finishing inside you, he liked letting it drip out of you and then filling you back up all over again.

When your breaths turned shorter and your moans became louder, he knew you were so close. He moved his fingers faster, brought his thumb down to your clit. Your whole body was shaking, and he could feel how desperate you were because your hand around him tightened.

“You wanna come, angel?”

“Please, daddy,” you blurted out. “Please, please make me come.”

He pulled your hand off his cock and kissed you when you made a noise of protest. His opposite hand never even faltered as he explained, “Daddy’s coming inside you. Keep begging.”

“Please, I want to come, daddy. I want to come on your fingers, I want you to get me wet enough so my tight, little pussy can take your huge cock.”

“What a filthy mouth, angel. Where’d you learn to talk like that? Been watching the videos I’ve been sending you?”

“Yes, daddy. I watch every single one and I touch myself, thinking about how much I miss you inside me.”

“You have no idea how much I miss having your pussy wrapped around me when you’re gone.”

You finished with a sharp cry, using your free hand to try to push his touch away, but he was so much stronger than you. Add to the fact that you really didn’t want him to stop, if you could stay there in bed with him, feeling that for the rest of your life, you would.

You almost instantly rolled over on top of him, kissing him as you moved up his body until you were straddling him. He set his hands on your hips, holding you steady as you slid down on him. As you adjusted, he let his hands wander to your breasts. You were still shaking, panting, trying to come down from your high but you were addicted to pleasing Nick.

You rolled your hips, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to see him naked, coming here without seeing all of him would be an absolute waste. He helped you get the shirt off after a moment and your hands roamed all over his torso.

He took your hips again, using his hold on you to pick up the pace just a little. You let your head fall back, he would want to watch your body anyway. You brought your arms back and rested your hands on the mattress around his legs. He had to fuck you just a little harder from this angle to see your breasts move with every thrust, but you were okay with that.

You always knew when he was close because his fingers would dig into your skin and he always did everything he could to get as close to you as he possibly could. This time, he sat up and pulled you up so your chest was flush against his. You continued bouncing up and down on his cock, mewling and whimpering because you knew he loved those sounds.

“Are you close, daddy?”

“Yeah, angel, keep going just like that.”

“Tell me when you’re really close.”

He faltered for just a second, processing your odd request, but did not argue.

You set your hands to his face, dragging him in for a kiss, open-mouthed, tongues, moaning obscenely for one another. As he was distracted, you unwound his arms from your back and held them flat on the mattress by his forearms.

“I’m close,” he informed after turning his head just slightly, breathing heavily on your skin. “I’m so fucking close.”

You started moving quickly, pulling off of him and crawling back down the bed. He was stunned silent until you bent down and took his wet cock, messy from your pussy, in your mouth. You’d only just closed your lips around him when both of his hands settled on the back of your head to hold you down. He only needed to jerk his hips up a few times before he was filling your mouth.

He kept you there until his high had drifted away, and you never once complained. You swallowed the cum that you could, but some of his had slipped out of your mouth, and sucked softly until he let you up.

As soon as you were sitting up, he was wrapping his arms around you and pulling you on top of him. Still trying to catch his breath, it was clear that he wasn’t letting you go for quite some time. Because no one would expect Nick to want to cuddle after sex.

And because his brain was not functioning at its best, he was simultaneously attempting to kick off his pants and pull the sheets over the two of you. But you weren’t there to be unsupportive, you simply laid on his chest and tried not to laugh.

After he’d managed it, which had to have taken about five minutes, he turned off the lamp on the bedside table and stretched over to do the same on the other side. He once again wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Fuck, I love you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so all you did was lay there. He didn’t miss a beat, he just started running one of his hands through your hair and then nothing. Not another word.

Fuck.

You only woke up because Nick was moving around so much. As quiet as he tried to be and as softly as he tried to move out from under you, he always failed at it. When he realized he’d woken you up again, he froze.

You grabbed one of the pillows and yanked it over his face as you climbed out of bed. You didn’t want to have to get up because that meant that you would soon have to leave. You grabbed your phone out of your bag on the way to the bathroom, not bothering to get dressed. Nick loved seeing you walk around the room naked, and that was why you always ignored that nervous nagging feeling that told you to cover up.

“Sorry,” he called out.

You didn’t respond.

After you brushed your teeth, you opened the door. You heard him moving around the bedroom as you were performing your simple morning skincare routine. He always did that, just waited until you were done so he could get in. He liked making you watch in the mirror.

And right on cue, Nick entered the bathroom, stopping just inches behind you. You didn’t turn, you merely watched him in the mirror and waited. He wrapped his arms around you, and you noticed the single red rose he was holding. He started at your lips, letting the flower trail down, then over your nipples, and down just above your navel.

You shivered when he pulled it away, offering it to you. With a smile you were looking down to hide, you took the rose from him.

He kissed the side of your face, arms wrapping loosely around your waist He pressed one hand to your stomach, and you were reminded of how much you loved his stupid hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m sorry about what I said last night. I know it was…a lot.”

Yeah, it was. You’d built it up in your mind as some terrifying thing that you would never want to hear, especially from him, but when he said it, it just wasn’t like that. When he said it, it made you feel safe. It made you feel loved. “But did you mean it?”

“Only if you’re not going to run away.”

You finally looked up in the mirror, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I won’t.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“And maybe I love you back.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” you confirmed. “And maybe I’m even considering staying.”

He perked up at that, turning you around quickly to face him. “Tell me what I need to do or say and I will.”

You brought the rose up and set it to his lips, smirking again.

He narrowed his eyes.

All you did was shrug. “Not sure yet, but you have all day to convince me.”

“I thought you were leaving today.”

You set the rose down on the counter. “Changed my mind.”

He was beaming as he picked you up and sat you on the counter. “That means you’ve already decided to stay.”

“I never said that.”

“I’m not letting you leave. Ever.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your smile. “I have to go home, you know…and pack.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled. “Probably a good idea to let my mom meet my daddy.”

“Please don’t make those jokes in front of your parents.”

You snorted. “Oh, now you want to be a gentleman?”

“Always am, angel. Open your legs and I’ll prove it.” He spread your thighs wider as he got down to his knees. He pulled you to the edge of the counter and with his eyes on yours, he took your pussy with his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “But this means you have to stop smoking.”

He pulled back, narrowing his eyes at you. “Now, seriously?”

You buried both hands in his hair and pulled him back in.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks​

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras  quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.  

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.  

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

[sopxhiea]

Moirai

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Now that the intentions are clear, the niece sees no reason to wait but Alfie just wants to take his sweet time.

Warnings: Age gap.

Genre: Angst and a dash of smut but fluff at the end

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Enjoying the view?”

“I'm gonna end up breaking your little heart in two.”

The pavement was cold, still a little wet from the rain this morning as the light sound of your small feet padding across the surface filled the empty street. It was past midnight, a little too late for anyone sane to be roaming around the streets of Camden, only the drunk and insane was around at this hour.

The car had stopped a few blocks away from his house as you had to be careful with where you were going. The excuse of going around to your friend’s flat because she was having a rough night had gotten you out of the grand mansion with your driver. 

You had changed into a lighter dress, one that was sheer around your upper body and was flowing around your knees. There was no noise or interruption as you looked at the house Alfie loved in. Too small for a man of his power but big enough for anyone around here.

You figured he wasn’t so materialistic, not like the posh ladies you’d been around.

A little shiver was apparent in your arms but it was late for any doubts as your small hand hit the door once, and then once after that. There was a pause, deliberately almost and some shuffling from the other side after the sound of heavy footsteps stopped. You heard an animalistic growl from the other side, unsure of the source but there wasn’t much time to contemplate when the door opened in one swift motion.

And there he was, in all his glory.

His hair was a bit messier than it had been during dinner, sleeves rolled up around his elbows. He was not panting but there was a darker look in his eyes, the same one he had in your study earlier that same day. You shot him a smile he had seen before but it made it harder for him to breathe for a second but he recovered quick enough.

“Enjoying the view?” your voice was breathy and there was a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at your small form standing on his doorstep.

He usually had his maid but he was more than thankful he had given her the rest of the night off. He knew you’d be coming, for all he knew the kiss he gave before leaving was enough to lure you in. You hadn’t slept with the man but you wanted to, so desperate for him to do more but you had a reputation stemming from your uncle and his business.

So all the moves had to be calculated.

“Very much so.” he said, not tearing his eyes from your body as he stared with no shame in the world. Alfie had always thought that beauty should be admire and you were it for him.

“Well, it’s rude to keep a lady waiting...” you spoke and trailed off but he saw the way your lips twitched upward.

He stepped aside, taking your hand in his and closing the door behind you. The space itself would be considered very well off for anyone else but you knew the kind of money Alfie made, he had multiple businesses on the side and your uncle was well aware of his wealth.

Maybe that was why he had been invited to dinner, you thought. It was a sign of trust and signaled at a created of a new bond and you soon realized that very same bond could easily be broken because of you. You didn’t ponder on it, not when Alfie was looking at you the way he was.

Moving further inside the house, you came to the conclusion that Alfie was not a materialistic man after all. Most of the furniture seemed expensive but there wasn’t much of it to begin with. A few shelves here and there with old books with golden covers and a few pictures of what you assumed to be his family. 

When you turned back, you found Alfie with a dark look in his eyes and a few centimeters away from you. His chest touched yours, noses almost brushing but you held him back by his arms and smiled. You wanted things to be done quick and efficiently but it also needed to be proper.

“Nice place you have here.” you spoke and didn’t realize the large mutt next to the fireplace.

A smile broke out on your lips as you approached the dog. He was bigger than any dog you’d seen but there was no fear on your face when you softly petted his head, which made Alfie’s eyebrows lift. People, even some tough men, were afraid of his large mutt yet there you were, something half his size speaking to Cyril in a sweet voice.

“What’s his name?” you said, not tearing your eyes away from the dog and Alfie spoke in a mutter, a bit jealous if he was honest with himself.

“Cyril.” he said and not a second later, you cooed to the dog.

“Oh! What a handsome name for a handsome boy..” you said, speaking to Cyril as if he were a baby and as far as Alfie could tell, the mutt was enjoying the attention you were giving him.

You soon realized the man was getting agitated as he watched you play with his dog so you petted Cyril’s head for the last time and sat down in front of Alfie with crossed legs. He wasn’t jealous, he wouldn’t call it that but he had waited for you to arrive since he’d left your uncle’s mansion and all you were keen on doing was to pet the damn dog.

“You’ve been waiting then, hm?” you spoke, lifting your leg up and down and he was focused on the way your body looked under the light dress for a solid minute before meeting your eyes.

All you got was a grunt of approval.

“Disappointed?” your voice was breathy as you asked him, he seemed a bit more calm than usual which, you had learned, was not a good sign with him.

He liked speaking, any time and all the time. It didn’t matter what it was about. Sometimes he’d tell you about business, how his lads were not behaving and all their little mistakes. Sometimes it came to be about him, how he liked his rum a certain way and the way he liked the silk dresses you wore more than the cotton ones, it’s the way they make you glow, he had said.

But he wasn’t speaking at that very moment, for whatever reason he had.

So you took it on your hands, the whole silent treatment on its own. You got up slowly, his eyes were keen on roaming around your body as you did so and you didn’t hide anything. He had kissed you plenty anyway so he had felt a certain amount of your skin against his.

You slowly sat on his thigh, not straddling him but more like putting all your weight on one thigh. The man was massive, anyway, you doubted that he felt anything as you settled yourself on him. He was still looking, adamant on keeping his eyes on you.

He was a damned man, not afraid of anything other than his mum and she was not on this side of the soul anyway so he had very little to worry about. But he would never hurt an innocent person. Sure, he had killed a man with his fists before but that wasn’t the same as a small girl with a clean heart.

Although you’d speak to differ.

“You’re worried?” you spoke, reading right through the difficult man and it took him a minute to register your words.

“Why the fuck would I, yeah, be worried, pet?” he said, hand at his beard like it usually was as he looked at you with uncertain eyes. 

He didn’t know what was going through your mind and Alfie always knew what someone else was thinking.

“You tell me.” you spoke, eyes scanning his but you weren’t really there anymore. There was a flood of worry evident in your orbs and Alfie hated to see that, hated it more because you had been the one to cause it.

You were not posh by upbringing but Alfie knew the people you hung out with, the small circle you had been put in. The girls were closer to aristocracy as he saw it, dainty dresses and conceited minds. They didn’t care for anything else other than their clothes, jewels or the party they were headed to.

He had seen you once with them.

You didn’t fit in, he could tell that much. That wasn’t to say that you didn’t look like you belonged with them, if anything you looked much more elegant than they’d ever be but there wasn’t the same fake smile they had on their lips. Those groups were a must, something your uncle had requested from you since he was doing business with some of the girls’ fathers and he needed you to make a good impression.

They weren’t your friends.

Alfie knew that but the scene had reminded him that you were a small posh girl, somewhere at the top of the social elites whereas he was a gangster. He didn’t mind the commotion, he had never been the one to care for what people had thought of him but you were young, so young in fact that he was afraid that he’d ruin you forever.

You leaned forward a little, in an attempt to get to kiss him but he was deep in thought.

“Alfie.” you called for him and he came out of his daze. You offered him a slow smile but he spoke with a monotone voice instead. 

This was the gangster side of him.

“I'm gonna end up breaking your little heart in two.” his voice was low but loud enough for you to hear from the close proximity. You blinked a couple of times and got up from his thigh.

The man was so full of himself sometimes.

“And?” you said, he looked up with a confused face and let you continue.

You wanted to fuck him that night but maybe it would have to wait for later.

“I don’t know why you think so highly of yourself. I just wanted a fuck.” you said, truth hitting him right in the face in an unusual manner.

“Why not fuck one of them rich lads, pet, hm?” he said, not getting up but crossing his arms instead. He was getting angry but he’d never hurt you, you both knew that.

You scoffed at his face with a heaving chest. Your face was slightly flushed, anger evident in your eyes as you stared at him. He thought so highly of himself that it made you want to leave but you had told your uncle you’d be staying the whole night and you were, for a faint moment, tired of lying to the poor old man.

And all along, Alfie got caught up in the way that you looked.

Angry and bothered, it did things to him.

“Because I’ve done enough of that.” you said, breaking the small spell you had put him under with your angry orbs. 

He chuckled at first.

He had heard about your tactics, had never been at the receiving end. He had heard about the way you’d change your name, your whole attire and cover story. As far as he knew, you’d been a butcher’s daughter, a foreign student and even a dress maker at some point. All of these covers popped up in one night and disappeared as quickly. As he had come to learn, all these ladies had the same description.

So he connected all the dots and there you were.

“Ya’ wanna fuck a dangerous man now, yeah, that it, luv?” he said, not sounding angry in the slightest but simply very curious.

You took a moment to think.

You had seen plenty of gangsters before, some with blood on their hands and some with scarves around their neck and a blade in their hat. It didn’t matter that Alfie was a gangster, that was just how it had happened and was a mere fact. You wanted him because he had been nothing but kind patient, not because he was a criminal of sorts.

“That’s what you think?” you spoke, eyes fiery and Alfie’s mind kept on focusing on the way your chest rose and fell rather than what was being asked.

He was just a man after all.

“Is it?” you spoke once more, desperate for him to say no but he had been fueled by anger in the first place and most of the time, he didn’t mean what he said.

“Nah.” he spoke, in a heartbeat. He had been a bit too furious with you.

The business was getting to him, and all that you brought to the table. He wasn’t complaining but Alfie was not a patient man, not when it came to talking what was going through his mind and you’d known that much but his sharp words had never been directed at you so it took you a minute to regain composure.

“Then why did-”

“Luv, I’m fuckin’ sorry, yeah, I am..” he said, getting up from where he was sitting and holding your arm gently. Your eyes were no longer lit up but you just looked a bit down and Alfie knew it was because of the way he’d handled everything. “..didn’t mean to speak to ya’ that way.” he said, not using the word ‘fuck’ to ease your nerves, although it took everything for him not to.

He slowly guided you out of the living room and into his study. He was whispering sweet nothings to your ear as an attempt to get you to feel a bit better when he sat you down on his lap. Then he rambled, much like he did all the time. He spoke about how boring your uncle’s dinner was and how glad it he was that it was over and that earned a light smack to the chest from you but he made it up by telling you that it was all worth it since he got to see the pretty lass.

He talked and talked and you didn’t even realize he had gotten his hands under your skirt.

-----

“St-stop.” you whispered against his skin, his face was inches away from you.

You looked flushed underneath him, laying on his large bed while his hand massaged you under your skirt. The other hand was on your waist, venturing every now and then to explore more of the skin.

He did stop, right after you told him to.

You gulped and looked at his eyes, his face merely inches away as he looked down at you. He was making this take longer than you were used to and it wasn’t that you were complaining but you felt desperate to connect your body with his and he had every intention of doing that as well, just a bit later on.

“Jus’ fuckin’ tell me.” he growled in your ear while his hands resumed what they were doing. It earned a low moan from you, the kind that made all the pressure in his body go south. 

It had already been hard to resist you all those times you’d made out but Alfie would never cross the line, the line you had put there. He respected you and your choices and you had waited for a good amount of time before letting him in your pants, it had felt like torture for him to wait but he had. 

Another low moan left your lips, one that made your chest vibrate and it took Alfie a moment to resume what he was doing. You looked so pretty under him, falling apart each time his fingers moved.

You weren’t a virgin, not by a long shot but men usually only cared about their part of the exchange. They would handle their business and make it quick so you weren’t sure of sex could feel good for both parts or it was only designed to satisfy men.

All your questions found answers while Alfie’s lips planted open kisses on your neck and trailed down, inch by inch. You didn’t tell him anything, it was just the initial reaction of slight panic when you felt this good, when he made you feel this good. You let him do his thing, unaware of how responsive your body was being to his touch but he reveled in it.

“Alfie.” your voice was a low whisper, breathy against his skin as he worked against your core. You gulped and he smiled against his skin.

Was it supposed to feel this good?

It felt like freefalling, like you were floating but it also felt close to the edge. He was holding you in his arms the whole time, his touch gentle against your skin. It almost sounded funny, just how gentle this cruel gangster was being with you. He didn’t want you to get hurt, as he knew that was easier than he’d anticipate.

Your legs were quivering as he held you, your breath caught in your throat while you saw stars. His hand didn’t stop, it only multiplied in how dense his movements were as he watched you fall apart. Your hands were digging at his back, too gentle for him to say anything and he drowned in the way you looked.

A thin sheet of sweated coated your body as you recovered from your high, still a bit fazed at what had just happened. You knew what it felt like, just not from a man’s hand and certainly not a gangster. Your eyes soon met his, his blue orbs no longer curious but dark. He looked like he was ready to devour you.

“This is going to get me killed.” you said, your voice still a bit hoarse as you looked into his eyes.

And it would kill you, you both knew it.

Alfie would be fine if the word was ever to get out, he was a grown man who owned an empire he had made for himself. He wasn’t afraid of a lot of things but you were just a young girl who happened to have a dangerous uncle. He would be the one responsible for everything that would happen and he didn’t know if you’d come out of it as the same person you’d been at the beginning.

“Ya’ afraid, luv?” you spoke against his lips before they landed on yours.

He kissed you like a fresh breath of air, it wasn’t the usual kiss. He took his time, as if he was trying to tell you something but you were too lost in the touch of him. You moaned into his mouth and he absorbed every little sound as he kissed you.

You broke the kiss, out of breath as you looked at him, hands on his cheeks as he smiled down at you. You didn’t know if you’d want to stop, even if it were to kill you. You weren’t afraid, you knew you would be able to keep this going for at least two months, you had lied to your uncle before and had no intentions of stopping because you were sleeping with a gangster.

“It’s not that.” you spoke against his lips as he caressed your body, hands all over your soft skin. You were letting him do whatever, the time you had with him felt too precious to pass up any opportunity.

“What..” he kissed you once in between the words. “the fuck ‘s it then, hm?” he spoke against your lips and you realized he’d been staring for a bit too long for it to be ‘just looking’.

You licked your lips first, savoring the taste as he inspected you with his eyes. You’d tell him but he figured you’d need a moment before.

You weren’t afraid, not in the slightest.

“I will get into trouble, which isn’t the problem..” you gulped, a hand over your head as you looked at him. “...I’m not sure what he’ll do to me.” you let out, letting your voice be heard.

Your uncle was known to be generous but not when it came to his perfect little niece. You had gotten away with everything till now and if he found out that you were sleeping with a gangster, let alone Alfie Solomons of all gangsters, he’d get you married to some boring chap and send you to the countryside.

You gulped under his stare and he looked at you once more before speaking. He was no longer hovering above you but sitting in front of you on his bed.

“What could yer old man’ fuckin’ do?” he said, not to mock your uncle but to find out what made you feel so uneasy.

He could do many things.

He could get you out of school, something you desperately didn’t want him to do. He could easily get you married, send you off to some island people hadn’t even heard of. He would yell at you, you knew that. He wouldn’t hit you, that was a line he wouldn’t cross but he would be angry with you and you didn’t know for how long.

The uncertainty made you feel uneasy, not the fear of it all.

“I don’t know....he could easily ruin me, I know that much.” you said, a sigh leaving your lips and you sat up as well, facing Alfie as he looked at you.

“Ruin ya’?” he asked, unsure of what you meant but that was expected. You didn’t share the same culture and so, it could mean many things as far as he was concerned.

“He could get me married to one of those boring old blokes, the ones that keep asking for my hand.” you spoke, as a matter of fact.

There was quite a few of them but you’d never mentioned it before, not seeing the relevance. They wanted to marry you for your uncle’s wealth but you figured it was not of importance. It was obvious to many but Alfie had never paid attention to it before. He couldn’t deny the fact that you were much younger, a lot more innocent and in his eyes, deserving of better than he was.

“Hm.” he said, hand tugging at his beard as he looked at your sitting form on the bed, hair a bit messy while your chest still rose and fell with a faster pace than usual. 

You scooted close to the bear of a man and sat next to him on the bed, leg touching his and his eyes focused on the contact for a second before settling on your features again. You were waiting for him to speak, he could tell from the way you chewed your lip.

His hand lifted, thumb brushing against your lip and you stopped the movement of your teeth. He could see the indecisive tone your eyes held, as if to say that you were still contemplating. You’d taken risks before, big ones at that but sleeping with a gangster had never been on that list. And that gangster was someone your uncle was making business with.

Although you’d already made your decision, you concluded.

He would treat you better than anyone your uncle would find you, or even the lads you would find for yourself. There was no fear of him being crushed by your uncle, since his wrath was something your uncle avoided at all costs. You had no problem sneaking around for a while but if you were to be caught, you needed him to have your back.

“I don’t mind sneaking around, I’ve done it before...” you spoke softly and his eyes remained on you, gentle as he waited for you to finish speaking. “..but if we are to ever get caught, somehow, I need to you to promise me...” you said, not needing to finish the sentence as he knew what you were saying.

You needed him to tell you that he wouldn’t just flee.

Men were scared of power, although some were adamant on fighting it. You knew Alfie was no ordinary man but the fear of being faced with your uncle could still be something he was not adamant on doing, you thought. You watched his eyes contemplate before you saw the decision in his eyes, his face relaxing in the slightest.

“Ya’ think I would fuckin’ leave you?” he asked, not telling you his answer just yet.

He wanted to make you wait.

He liked the innocence sprawled on your features, like a little girl who needed her desires to be met. You were quite spoiled, he knew that but in no way that made him feel uncomfortable, just in the way that made him feel a little amused. He had seen rich girls before, the kind of ladies that would make hell look like a playground if their dress didn’t fit perfectly but you weren’t like them and he decided that was because of how you had been raised.

But you were still a little spoiled, he thought with a smile. 

“I didn’t say that. I was as-” you started speaking, features a little agitated but he stopped you with a smile on his lips. He was just toying with you.

“If we take this further, yeah, you’ll have a lot of fuckin’ trouble gettin’ rid of me, pet.” he said and watched your features relax.

You hadn’t slept with him yet, but you would that night.

“Good. I’d like that.” you said with a childish smile and he felt his chest vibrate.

He looked at your for a bit then, glowing under the moonlight. God you were so young but he didn’t feel the difference most of the time. It made him feel young, if anything. He smiled as his hand cradled your skull gently and he saw the determination in your eyes as your lips neared his.

He tasted all power and manly. There was a taste of vanilla you couldn’t place, and the faint smell of rum on his clothes but there was comfort in everything that he was. You smiled against his lips, straddling his sitting form on the bed and you earned a growl from him the moment your legs landed on top of his.

This was a familiar scene for all you knew but you’d ask for it this time, you felt no shame in it. 

Speaking against his lips, you kept your hands on his hair and chest as your voice met his ears.

“Don’t make me wait.” you spoke between his desperate kisses. His defense was weakened from earlier and he had no intentions of leaving things at kissing that night but he liked the idea of you begging, it made his mind go blank.

He hummed against your lips while you responded to every little action that came from him. Instead of laying you down on the bed and getting things started, he just kept kissing you for a while. You didn’t complain at first, tongues clashing as you sat on top of him with a flushed face but you were growing impatient and you needed him to get to work.

“I’m not gonna beg for it.” you spoke against his lips and grinded against his crotch which only weakened him further.

In a split second, he had you trapped under him on the bed as you laid on your back and stared up at him with darker eyes than before. You wanted this for so long and the man was making you wait which only made you frustrated.

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that, lass.” he said as he planted kisses on your collarbone and your hands found his back while he worked on kissing every inch of you.

It felt like being worshipped, like he was showing you something he couldn’t put into words.

You decided, very quickly, that you wouldn’t mind waiting. It seemed like the man had all the time in the world as he gently kissed your neck and trailed down, inch by inch as you squirmed underneath him. The night was long and he had every intention of showing you how a lady should be treated.

You moaned lowly when he bit the inside of your thigh and he was soon kissing you again. He was the one keeping you on your toes now as it got harder to predict his next move.

You would beg for many things that night but none of them would feel foreign as they rolled off your tongue.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @jjklefttoe @ floatinginwords @opheliasbrokenmind​ @ alliss19

a/n: I’m sorry this came in so late but I truly do hope you enjoyedit and let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! There is more coming but there might be a small delay but it’s in the works <3

[captainamericasbeard]

Empathy Ch. 7

@Pairing: Bucky x Empath!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut. It’s soft smut but it’s smut nonetheless. 

Summary: Y/N is an empath tasked with helping the Avengers but healing only comes if you want it.

A/N: This chapter came soooo much easier than the last one. I’m really proud of this one right here. Enjoy! If you want to be tagged just send me an ask.

Chapter 6 ll MASTERLIST

You awoke the next morning tangled in Bucky’s arms and legs. It took you a few moments to remember where you were and why there was another person wrapped around you. When it dawned on you that you and Bucky had spent a peaceful night in each others arms, uninterrupted by terrifying visions, you couldn’t stop your smile. You carefully turned yourself over so you could face Bucky without waking him. You looked at his serene face, his long eyelashes splayed out on his cheeks, and his full lips soft and relaxed and you thought your heart might burst. Bucky stirred in his sleep. He pulled you closer and buried his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder and you giggled at the scratch of his beard.

“You’re waking me up doll. You’re all excited and you’ve got my heart pounding,” he murmured.  

“Sorry Bucky. But you didn’t have any nightmares. I was just happy,” you replied.

“I know. Dreamt abut you instead,” he said as he started to peck featherlight kisses on your neck.

“What kind of dreams?” you asked, your stomach fluttering.

“All kinds of dreams,” he said. He finally opened his eyes to look at you and his own were twinkling darkly. Your breath stopped at the look in his eyes and the two of you lay staring at each other like that till the air was thick with tension. Bucky shifted up so his face was next to yours on the pillow and began to place kisses on your eyelashes and nose as he’d done the night before. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you impossibly close to him. Your breath was caught in your chest as he got closer and closer to your lips. Finally, finally, when you felt like you would fly apart if he didn’t, he brought his lips to yours. It was tender and soft until it wasn't. Your arms were around his neck and your hands tangled in his hair and his warm hands were at your waist and your stomach and your ass. You don’t know who came up for air first but eventually you broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together, both breathing heavily. Bucky continued to lay little kisses on your face. Your eyes were closed but you felt a tear slip out from under your lashes as a shudder ran through your body. Bucky pulled back from kissing you and opened his eyes you find your tears flowing freely. He brought his hands up to your face to wipe away your tears and brush the hair out of your face.

“What’s wrong little love?” You were silent for a beat as you tried to organize what you were feeling.

“You love me,” you eventually sighed, opening your eyes to look into his clear blue ones.

“Of course I do! I told you last night and nothings changed,” Bucky replied.

“I know it’s just, I can feel it. I can feel it and it fills me up and makes me stronger and I… I’ve just never felt that before.” Bucky’s look of concern broke into a smile and he kissed you again, this time shifting so he was on top of you caging you in with his arms, making you feel little and loved.

“I love you, Y/N, and if you’d let me, I’d like to show you,” he said, his eyes darkening again. You nodded. He kissed you slowly as he inched his leg in between yours. You felt your stomach tighten and you moaned softly into his kiss. Bucky began to inch his hand down your body. He took your leg and hitched it up over his waist as he groped your ass. Your heart was pounding wildly as you felt the emotions building in your chest. You quickly broke the kiss.

“Wait,” you said pulling away from Bucky slightly. Bucky looked horrified. He immediately pulled his hands off you and made space between the two of you.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed to say and you cut him off with a laugh turning his look of horror into one of confusion.

“No, no. it’s nothing like that,” you said holding his face to allay his fears. “It’s just, sex with me can be pretty… intense. Emotionally.”

“Well, I cant say I’m surprised,” Bucky said with a chuckle.

“Yeah… not a shock obviously. It’s just… I’ve kind of avoided it because of that,” you said avoiding Bucky’s gaze.  

“We don’t have to do anything, darlin’,” Bucky said and you loved him even more for it.

“No,” you said, “No I want to, I really want to, it’s just, well… you’ve been warned.” Bucky laughed at that.

“Noted,” he said as he closed the gap between you once again. He brought his lips to yours and you were lost. Lost in the ocean of your love for each other and every wave threatened to overtake you. You anchored yourself to Bucky and felt peace in the storm.

The two of you were a tangle of arms and legs and Bucky’s hands were everywhere- massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples, tickling down your sides, and dipping into your core where you needed him most. You moved as one, as though you’d been together the whole time. You both felt dizzy with the mutual love that was swirling between you two.

“Need you Bucky, please,” you breathed out and Bucky obliged. He lined up with your entrance and slid in in one perfect motion, the two of you connecting as though you were made for each other. He set a steady rhythm and you could feel the air in the room growing thick with electricity as the coil in your belly tightened. You whimpered as Bucky brought his fingers down to your bud and you felt as taut as a tightrope. It was only seconds before you snapped and a crack of thunder pealed through the room as you reached your high. Bucky didn’t stop as the waves crashed over you and you immediately felt yourself building again.

“One more for me darlin, I know you’ve got it in you,” he said, his deep voice sending tremors through you. His lips trailed down your neck till they reached your erect nipple which he took between his teeth. The sensations were too much for you and you came again almost immediately as Bucky followed right behind you. Thunder cracked and electricity bounced around the room as you came down from your highs. The sockets in the walls popped and cracked and everything went dark as the lightbulbs flared bright and exploded. You both looked at the mini lightening storm filling the room and burst out laughing

“Well that’s new,” you exclaimed as the storm petered out.

“That’s… what the… is that going to happen every time!?” Bucky asked looking around bewildered.

“I have no idea!” you said. “I think we blew a fuse,” you said seriously and you both burst out laughing. Bucky flopped down beside you and pulled you close. There were goosebumps breaking out on both your skin as you held each other tight.

Bucky turned to you, his expression open and honest where it used to be so closed off. You smiled to see him so happy and reached out to run your finger down his cheek and along his jawline.

“I love you,” he said. “And I’d love to wake up next to your happy little heart forever.” You covered your face at his confession and sobbed with joy. He wrapped himself around you, and gently kissed the top of your head.

The afternoon went pretty much the same as the morning, you and Bucky wrapped tightly around one another, electricity crackling through the room until Steve came and pounded on the door.

“Can you two cut it out!? The whole compound is going bonkers!” He exclaimed.

Bucky leapt off the bed and you managed to figure out what he was doing and cover up just in time. Bucky whipped open the door and stood there stark naked in all his glory.

“Gotcha all wound up, Cap?” Bucky asked smirking. Steve just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Mission briefing in 10 minutes,” he said completely exasperated. “You too, Y/N.”

“You got it Cap!” You said, saluting from the bed. Steve let out another heavy sigh and walked away.

Bucky closed the door and the two of you burst into laughter.

10 minutes later found you and Bucky walking down the hall hand in hand. You glanced down at your intertwined fingers and your heart did a happy dance. Bucky looked at you and smiled, stopping mid stride to kiss you. Soon you were pressed up against the wall, lost in each other’s love. Steve poked his head out of the door and shouted,

“Would you two give it a rest! Everyone’s waiting, come on.” You broke apart in a fit of giggles and quickly followed Steve into the briefing room. Steve stood at the front of the room glaring at you and Bucky and you quickly settled down adopting serious, professional faces.

“First a round of applause for the happy couple. We’re all so glad it finally happened,” Steve said clapping along with the rest of the group. “Second, you two are only allowed to do it at night. People were jumping each other in the hallways and we had to go to the backup generators.” You groaned and hid your face in embarrassment while Bucky roared with laughter.

“Very funny, yes,” Steve said rolling his eyes. You could tell he was actually quite happy for you and his best friend. “Now, we’ve got a mission,” he said. His tone was serious and Bucky, who was still shaking with laughter, sobered up immediately.

“Y/N, your father is here, in a little known South African rainforest on the outskirts of Nelspruit. Very remote, very hard to get in unseen. It’s going to require a two day ride down the Crocodile River. And yes, it’s appropriately named so stay in the boat. From what we can tell on satellite the base is fully loaded with 100 agents. And since human experimentation is the name of the game there will be hostages. We’re bringing in some extra fire power for this one. I feel confident we can take the base, save the hostages, and bring down Dr. Y/L/N. Y/N your job, along with Bucky, is to find your father, subdue him with your powers, and capture him alive. Alright?” He asked glancing around the room, his eyes landed on you. You nodded firmly, your mouth too dry to speak. “Ok, we leave in 20 minutes. Suit up.” He finished with a nod.

“I don’t have a suit,” you muttered under your breath to Bucky. Your nerves were affray and he could feel it.

“Yes you do,” Tony Stark said as he came striding into the room carrying a large silver suitcase. You jumped up in surprise and Tony stuck out his hand in greeting. You took his hand and shook it feeling a bit stunned.

“Quick, what am I thinking,” he asked.

“It would be rude to say,” you replied with a smirk. You and Tony were definitely going to get along.

“Hey Tinman,” Tony said peeking around you at Bucky, who jerked his head up in greeting.

“Why am I Tinman if you’re the one in the can?” Bucky asked sharply.

“Good question, good question. I’ve got one for you, what the hell did the two of you do to my power grid?” Tony asked with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, I have some questions about that myself,” you said awkwardly.

“Those question would be better directed to the good doctor,” Tony said, jerking his head toward the man walking through the door who you immediately recognized as Bruce Banner. He looked nervous as he conversed with the demi-god who followed him.

“Or maybe Thor would know. Ask one of them, please don’t make me answer any sex questions involving Barnes.” You nodded, your cheeks glowing pink. Your first conversation with Tony Stark and you were casually chatting about your sex life.

“What’s in the case,” Bucky asked, feeling your embarrassment and changing the subject.

“Glad you asked,” Tony said hoisting the case onto to table in front of you. He offered his thumbprint and clicked the latches and the case sprang open revealing a sleek suit made with black fabric arrayed with black throwing stars. You stared in wonder.

“Now, I understand that, aside from being a super solider, you’re also combat trained?” Tony questioned.

‘I’m shield trained. I’m no Black Widow but I can take down your bog standard Hydra goon,” you replied, your eyes still focused on the deadly point of one of the throwing stars. “How’d you know?” you asked tearing your eyes away from the gleaming metal and fixing Tony with a stare just as sharp.

“Tip from a mutual friend,” he answered.

“Fury,” you muttered.

“Throwing stars, huh?” Bucky asked glancing up at you. You simply nodded and let Tony do the talking, which he seemed very happy to do.

“Y/N is about as good with a throwing star as you are with a knife, is that right? She’s been training with them since she was a teenager,” Tony explained.

“It’s true,” you answered searching Bucky for his thoughts on the matter. He seemed relieved to find you had some battle skills and wouldn’t be walking into this mission unprepared.

“Well the stars are carbon fiber steel. The suit is a bit more high tech. It’s micro mesh kevlar, strongest stuff out there save vibranium. And its woven with a living polymer that will heighten and focus your abilities. Be careful, you’re going to be a lot stronger than you’re used to.” You glanced up at Tony who held your gaze. “Don’t let your emotions run away with you, we want your father alive.” You nodded in understanding.

“Alright. Like the old man said, suit up.”

TAGLIST:

@saiyanprincessswanie @emmabarnes @sirenphrynne @starlightcrystalline @alexakeyloveloki @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @pspice639 @thejupe89 @xpurpleglitter @capsgrl @nacho-bucky​ @redbarn1995​ @maybe-a-marvel​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @ellefran​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ 

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Eight

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, foul language, mentions of war, military technicalities (thread with caution)

A/N: Dum, Dum, DUM!!! We are finally here! The smutty part of the series is here and also an added twist in the end. I hope you guys like it because we are almost reaching the end. And as always a massive thank you to the wonderful beta @thelastsock who's been a huge help. Also, thank you to @cheyentjj​ for suggesting an appropriate face claim for Liv, Julianne Hough is the only one I’ll see as Liv now.  

<Chapter Seven

Title: Chapter Eight

Sy grumbled as he stared at himself in the mirror. His buzz cut was growing out and his beard was becoming scrawnier. He turned his head to the side, grazing his finger over the cut he had over his cheekbone. He had no idea how he had even gotten bruised like that. He wasn’t one to have an opinion on how he looked, but now that he had a woman in his life, he was suddenly more mindful.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sy turned around to grab his t-shirt from the back of the chair. His eye caught the silver chain lying on the table. He grabbed it in his hand, turning the medal in his palm. Liv always wore it but somehow, she had forgotten about it today. Sy was not religious or superstitious but he liked the idea that Liv’s friend cared about her enough to gift her something to keep her safe all the time.

Placing the chain back on the table, Sy couldn't help but think about what he had going on with Liv since the night she had spent in his room. He felt their relationship had evolved; she was opening up to him, telling him about her life, letting him in. Although, his heart had ached when she had told him about her family.

Sy had his arm draped over Liv, his fingers entwined with hers. Her back against his chest, her head resting on his extended arm. It was the third night in a row when Liv had come knocking on his door. He didn’t question her, only embraced her and cuddled her to sleep.

“Are you still awake?” He had whispered that night, not wanting to disturb the silence.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?” When she nodded, he continued. “What did you mean by ‘no one’s waiting for you back home’?”

Sy stared at the back of her head. He had been meaning to ask her about it for a while, but the moment never seemed right. He was almost certain she wasn’t going to answer when Liv sighed.

“My dad always wanted a son.” She adjusted against him, pulling his arm tighter around her. “He’s a real estate broker and has made a fortune out of it. He always had the idea that a son would be the one he would pass the mantle to.”

Sy scoffed. “That’s misogynistic.”

“Yeah, that’s my dad.” Liv sighed. “After I was born, he was clearly disappointed. He took his frustration out on mom, he treated her very badly. In turn, she took it out on me. So, I never really spent time with them as much. When my brother was born, my father was overjoyed and showered my mother with all his love, and she decided to dedicate her life to my brother’s upbringing. When my grandma asked me if I wanted to move in with her, I didn’t even put up a fight, and neither did they.”

“Baby,” Sy turned her in his arms to face him. Liv’s eyes held sorrow but there were no tears. Sy wondered if she had grown so accustomed to being neglected by her parents, she didn’t even feel anything more than disappointment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. If they wouldn’t have treated me the way they did, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. I probably wouldn’t have even joined the army.” She placed her hand on his cheek, smiling weakly. “How would I have met you?”

 Sy smiled to himself. He had kissed her after that, feeling immensely happy for having her in his life. He would have never imagined meeting an incredible woman like Liv while being out in the desert. Sometimes he wondered if he was falling for her.

“Hey!” Liv announced, opening the door wide. She had a huge smile on her face, her skin slick with sweat and her eyes blown wide with exhilaration. “Pepps’s going to tell you everything, but I was so excited to tell you first.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. He could see Liv practically bouncing on her toes as she rubbed her hands together. He watched as she closed the door and walked up to him to give a chaste kiss on his lips.

“You know we’ve been trying to get more people on our side,” she pulled her jacket off, draping it neatly over the chair. She plopped down on the bed, crossing her legs and smiling widely up at Sy. “We just got someone on the inside.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me we have intel that there’s a new leader for the militants, I suggested we should try someone to infiltrate the group. Mahmoud fixed us with a young man who is on our side but will provide us information about the militant activities.”

Sy was impressed. He had approved Pepps for trying to recruit Mahmoud’s man, but Liv had no knowledge about it. He wanted to see how much effort Liv was ready to put into getting the job done. He felt even prouder and in awe of his woman every time he saw her in action.

“Also,” She straightened her leg and fished out a trimmer from her pocket. “I managed to get it from a barber shop at the village.”

Sy smirked with a naughty thought entering his mind. “Want a trim? Maybe I could help.”

Liv rolled her eyes at him and started detangling the wires from the trimmer. “Just FYI, I got everything laser removed. So, it’s smooth like butter down there.”

Sy felt his mouth go dry with the new revelation. He couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild, thinking exactly about having his mouth on the aforementioned part of Liv's body. Explicit was often where his thoughts went when he had her in his arms lately. Her body fit wonderfully in his, arranged in his arms like a perfectly matched puzzle piece. Each night he fought the urge to wake her and make love to her then and there.

“Okay, soldier. I can practically hear your thoughts.” She snickered, pointing at his crotch. He grumbled adjusting his pants that had tightened under the inevitable effect of his filthy ideas. “And this for you. I see how you keep looking at your hair and your beard. I could give you a buzz.”

Sy scoffed, grabbing his gun from the table and putting it in his thigh holster. “I’ll get it done from someone else.”

“Sy, I’m tired and I have only three hours until I have to go to my post. So please, get your ass here.” She bent down to wave her hand over the floor. She plugged in the trimmer on the socket above the bed. She looked at him expectantly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“If anything goes wrong, we’ll just shave it all.” Sy muttered and sat down on the floor, resting his back against the metal frame of his bed. He grimaced as the familiar buzzing of the trimmer started behind him. With the touch of the old blades of the device, Sy winced involuntarily.

“Stop it.” Liv warned, holding onto his shoulder and running the trimmer along his neck. “I know what I’m doing, Captain J.A. Syverson.”

Sy groaned on hearing his full name. Liv staying in his room meant she noticed personal things about him. She had looked through his trunk for a spare t-shirt and casually asked him about his initials written on the metal box. He knew at some point she ought to know about his first name, but he was perfectly fine with being known by his last name for the time being.

“I figured it out by the way.” He could hear the glee in her voice over the buzzing of the machine. “Why did you never tell me your name's John Andrew?” She giggled, brushing the hairs out of his t-shirt.

“I was getting to it.” He mumbled bringing his legs up and resting his arms on them. “Who told you?”

“I’m not going to rat out my informant.” Liv tapped him on his shoulder and indicated him to look up. She trimmed the hair on the top of his head with her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth in concentration. Sy smiled at her adorable face, his fingers itched to touch her. She kissed the top of his head when she noticed his smile, moving onto his side burns next.

He tried to look at her from the corner of his eyes while she trimmed his hair. Everything about this situation felt so domestic. He had no clue he had yearned for something like this, only feeling it now he was experiencing it. It felt blissful and satisfying. Sy also felt delighted about Liv’s cheerful attitude and watching her be her previous self was like a breath of freshness in the stale air of grief that surrounded her.

“All done.” Liv announced. She dusted off the hair, turning his head from side to side to check her work. “Part-time at the local salon has finally paid off.”

Sy was about to stand up to look in the mirror when a knock sounded on the door. Pats, from his men, pushed open the door. A cigarette hung from his mouth, his dark beard scraggly and long. Sy jutted his chin for him to speak, looking himself in the mirror and being content with the way Liv had trimmed his hair.

“Call from the base.” Pats informed, throwing a casual wave towards Liv before heading out into the corridor.

“Duty calls, Captain.” Liv yawned, sniffling and settling down on his bed. “Wake me up when you come back?” She yawned again as she pulled the blanket over her body.

“You’re going to sleep here?” Sy questioned as he walked back to Liv. He smiled as Liv nodded, pulling the blanket up to her nose. Sy looked down at her, smiling as he observed her bundled up on his bed. For the first time in his entire military career, he wanted to neglect his job and just curl up next to Liv. “How do I thank you for a job well done?”

Sy noted how Liv bit her lip between her teeth, looking up at him with mischief dancing in her eyes. She closed her eyes and brought her arm to rest on her forehead. “I’m sure you can come up with something.” She whispered sensuously, peeking at him from underneath her arm.

Sy felt his throat go dry again as several ideas popped up in his head. He cleared his throat and leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. “Will do, ma’am.” He said, stealing another kiss and walking out the room. He looked down at his wrist watch, anticipation already brewing for when he could get back to her.

***

Liv groaned as the voices of men from the other room disturbed her sleep once again. It was a hefty price to pay for being a light-sleeper and living around men who could be boisterous when need be. She turned around to face the wall and pulled Sy’s blanket closer to her face. She breathed in the faint smell of his musk, imagining him to be lying next to her. Habituation was a bitch because she couldn’t get a good sleep until she had Sy’s arms around her.

The door to his room creaked open, alerting her of another presence. She half turned her body to look behind as she heard the door lock and found Sy in the process of removing his holster.

“Back already?” She looked at her wrist watch and noted she still had plenty of time until she had to go to her post. “What did base want-” Her question was cut short as Sy kneeled down next to the bed and captured her lips for a heated kiss. She gasped as he pulled the blanket off her body and threw it unceremoniously on the floor. Without breaking the contact between their lips, Sy climbed on the bed over Liv, capturing her between his limbs.

When they broke away to take a breath, Liv placed her hands on his chest. “What was that?”

“I’m thankin’ ya.” His accent came out prominent and his voice grew huskier. Liv noted how far his pupils were blown as lust overtook his darkening orbs. Running his tongue over his lower lip, Sy leaned down again to kiss her while pulling at her t-shirt tucked in her pants.

Liv’s heart skipped a beat when Sy’s warm calloused hand touched her bare stomach. She arched her back to let Sy pull the t-shirt off her head. She moaned as Sy let his lips travel down the side of her neck, pausing to suck at an erogenous zone which made her toes curl. She grabbed at his t-shirt, tugged at it and helped Sy discard it, adding to the pile of clothes on the floor. She took a moment to marvel at his furry chest, raking her nails over his torso and down to his belly. Her core quivered as she eyed the hairy line that travelled down the middle of his stomach, disappearing beneath his belt.

“I want you so badly right now.” Sy breathed, resuming his work on Liv’s neck, his beard leaving a tingling sensation as it grazed her skin. She reached between their bodies and worked at his belt with an unrestrained urgency. His erection was already beginning to strain against the fabric of his pants, rubbing on her lower abdomen as he moved down to her chest. “I want to fuck you so hard.” He growled against her chest, pulling her bra down to expose her hardened nipples.

Liv gasped as Sy latched onto her nub, sucking at it and grabbing at her other breast. She closed her eyes, drowning herself in pleasure as Sy lavished attention on her tits, sucking and groping each in turn. She palmed Sy through his pants, getting a groan in response that vibrated against her chest. He bucked his hip down, rubbing his crotch against her hand which jostled against her own groin, sending a jolt of excitement throughout her body.

With sweaty hands, she tugged at his pants and pulled them down his hips. Sy shimmed himself out of them and kicked it down to join the discarded clothes. Liv licked her lips, grabbing at Sy’s hardening length which pulled a throaty moan from him. She gulped as she stroked his cock, her fingers unable to fist it entirely in her hand. Sy travelled down her chest leaving kisses along the trail. Her body shivered with what was to come as Sy hurriedly bared her to his gaze.

Lying under Sy’s lascivious stare, Liv’s core throbbed, her stomach fluttered as she felt exposed and vulnerable. She clenched her thighs together as the warmth from her cheeks travelled down to her chest. Sy licked his lips with desire blazing in his eyes. He leaned down again to kiss along her thigh, tickling her with his scruff and nudging her legs apart with his hands. She watched with baited breath, craning her neck to look between her thighs as Sy kissed his path to her mound. Her thighs shuddered as his warm breath washed over her drenched hole. She clutched at the sheets with the anticipation of feeling his mouth on her.

“Get to it already.” Liv pleaded. She could feel Sy smirking against her for which she wanted to just shove his face on her need when suddenly he ran his tongue over her slit. “Fuck.” She rasped as an exquisite pleasure consumed her body. She couldn’t help but moan as Sy pulled her tender folds apart with his fingers, opening her up to him as he lapped at her with voracious hunger.

“You taste delicious, Liv.” He cooed while stopping to pepper kisses on her inner thigh, his finger rimming her clenching pussy. Liv was aware of the many men littered around the compound, some even in the adjacent room. She bit her lip from stopping herself to cry out like a wanton whore as Sy thrusted a thick digit inside her. She grabbed at his shoulder, digging her nails in his skin as he returned to flick his tongue over her clit.

Liv was a squirming mess as Sy worked around her cunt, devouring her with a carnal need and thrusting his finger inside her with fervor. She brought her other hand to her exposed breast, pinching her nipples between her fingers. It wasn’t like Liv was a virgin, but she had to admit she had never felt so overwhelmed by a man eating her out. A strained moan escaped her lips as Sy added another finger and pumped them together, curling them inside her to rub against her swollen bundle of nerves. She could briefly feel his mouth sucking at her sensitive nub, nibbling at it momentarily before licking it.

“Sy.” She groaned. The knot in her belly was tense with her impending orgasm that Sy was trying to draw out from her. She gasped with widened eyes when a third finger entered her tight hole, Sy scissoring them while plunging them in and out of her. It was too much for her to take and with an unrestrained groan she came against his fingers, her body trembling under the intensity of her orgasm.

She laid spent on the bed, sweat covering her skin as ripples of aftershock travelled down her body. Sy licked her clean, placing a gentle kiss on her clit and climbing up to her face. She looked at him with a weak smile, noticing the grin on his lips under his wet whiskers.

“Fuck me, Sy.” She instructed raggedly. Sy leaned down to take her lips in his, her taste lingering on his lips and tongue. She took a shuddering breath as he lined his throbbing cock against her dripping entrance. In one swift move Sy entered her with a grunt, splitting her with his girth and drawing out a sinful moan from the pair. The tip of his cock rubbed against the apex of her womb, teasing it as he moved his hips to pull himself out before plunging inside her again.

“God, you feel so good.” Sy groaned as he began pounding into her with vigor. “I won’t last long.” He warned, laying over her body and bringing his arms underneath her back. He circled her lithe waist with his strong, wide arms as he mercilessly thrusted into her every time reaching up to the hilt, the metal frame of their bed rattling with Sy's thrusts. The sounds outside had faded into nothing, only the wet sound of skin on skin and rhythmic moans reached their ears.

Liv wound her arms around his neck kissing him deeply with a ravenous need to feel every inch of his body. “Cum inside me.” She breathed against his mouth, looking into his eyes with fervent desire. She could feel the unmistakable coiling in her lower belly as Sy’s pelvis ground against her sensitive clit. She knew Sy was close as his thrusts became frantic and his grunts became louder, chasing his release.

Liv dug her face in his neck as another wave of euphoria washed over her making her cry out in ecstasy. Her walls clenched around his pulsating cock and with a guttural, animalistic groan, Sy jerked his hips one last time as he finally reached his release. She felt his release painting her walls, milking him for every drop. The warmth pooling inside her mirroring the warmth pooling in her chest as she regarded Sy above her.

Sy lay over her, careful not to crush Liv with his weight. As he caught his breath, he made to move away but Liv placed her hands on his taut buttocks. halting his movement.

“Stay inside me.” She pleaded with him. Tears pricked at her eyes, her senses overwhelmed with the profound,  all consuming passion she had experienced moments ago. Sy looked up at her, his sweat slicked skin sliding against hers. A soft smile lifted the corners of his lips as his eyes focused on hers.

“I’ve never fallen for someone so hard and so fast.”

Liv stared at him, astonished at his words. She blinked, trying to understand if she was hearing him right. She was at a loss of words, confused and consumed with the fluttering in her chest. She could hear the rapid beating of her heart in her ears as the moments ticked by.

Sy reached up to cup her cheek, sympathy shining in his eyes at the overwhelmed woman in front of him. “You don’t have to say it back, but I think I love you.” He grazed his lips gently over hers, the carnal desire from before replaced with delicate emotion. The silent kiss they shared was soft and placid, enveloping Liv in an unknown tranquillity. “And to answer your question from earlier, base is sending more people here.” he added, with a cheeky smile.

***

Liv gazed at Sy while being seated from across him in his office. He was looking over the papers about the new team arriving later in the day. He wasn’t thrilled about accommodating more people, grumbling about how they worked better in a small unit. She bit her lip as the memories of their frenzied lovemaking from only a few hours earlier came to her mind. There was a huge hickey on her chest which tingled with her heating cheeks.

“Stop staring, Liv.” He mumbled, not even glancing up at her and reaching out to his cup of coffee.

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.” She teased. She stood up, grabbing her gun from his table and slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Stop stressing about the new people.” She walked up to him and placed a kiss on top of his head. “I’m going to head out.”

“Stay safe.” He called out, shuffling the papers around.

“Be nice.” She winked at him when he looked up.

Liv walked out into the compound with a bounce in her step. Ever since Sy had told her he loved her, she felt elated. She knew she felt something for him but was confused if she liked him or was it love. She didn’t want to mislead him with false promises, waiting to make sure what she felt for him was indeed ‘love’. She'd made that mistake before.

Pepps greeted her near their Humvee. She had grown accustomed to the man’s company and respected him for his skills as a soldier and a negotiator. He tipped his cap at her, pulling his gun up from the hood of the vehicle. “It’s going to be a good day.” He commented before rounding out to the other side and getting into the car.

After an entire day of talking to various men and women who supported their help, Liv was content with their progress in increasing local assistance. One lady had offered her home-made lunch which had smelled delicious but owing to protocols, she had to decline. She had been ecstatic with the new information they had gathered from the informant about the militant leader which was apparent by the bouncing of her leg with impatience.

When they arrived at the camp, Liv noticed the new Humvees parked out front with new faces greeting them at the gate.

“Guess they are here.” Pepps announced, driving their car to an empty spot.

Liv noticed Sloan jogging up to her hurriedly. She alighted the car but was quickly held by the shoulders by the blonde. “You are not prepared for this.” She warned, turning her head to look behind her.

“What-?” Liv questioned but was rendered speechless as her eyes followed Sloan’s line of sight.

It was like the air from her lungs had been punched out. She felt her limbs become cold as a bead of chilling sweat dribbled down her forehead. She gulped as with pressed lips she stared at the one person she did not expect to see, not until she was on leave again. It was like god was laughing at her and plotting to twist her life as she watched both Sy and Alex walk towards her. 

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

Chapter Nine>

[slasherkisss]

CABIN FEVER - JASON VOORHEES X READER [CHAPTER 8]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.

A/N I finally managed to get some muse for this again! I have an idea of where I’m going to go with it and I can’t wait to actually finish this project, I’m gonna do it if it kills me. Here’s the next chapter at least...a year later lol 

——————————————————————————————

Months passed between the day of slaughter, and something inside of you felt heavy even after the deed had been said and done.

True to his word, Jason had taken care of everything. You had woken up the day after the Incident to clean sheets and the disappearance of both blood and body in your mind. It was as though the back of your head was trying desperately to push the thoughts of slaughter from you. To lock it away inside of your subconscious in a way that you would never be able to reach it again. It was something you didn’t need to remember, your brain insisted with desperation lacing the tone it usually took when it spoke to you, and you should simply accept that it would never be like that again.

The nightmares did not let you forget, though.

Each night seemed plagued with them, some more grueling than the other. More desperate in its plaintiveness each time you thought through the story that played within it. Your body in each dream pushed itself through dark, craggy forests and against the bare ground of soil. Roots curled with hunger at your legs as you chased your victim, breath heaving and weapon tight in your fist as you caught up to the terrified little thing. Your weapon always seemed to change in the time of your rest. Sometimes it was the trowel, pointed at its tip and built only for tilling the earth, and other times it was a machete with a glimmering blade and reflective steel like teeth bared for murder.

Sometimes, you were the one running from yourself. Your own form silhouetted in the darkness as you chased down who you knew you had to kill. Sometimes you tripped on the edges of roots so thick they might as well have been hands, and looked up into your own wild gaze. Your own form as you shakily held up the trowel against your fingertips. Sometimes it was you who screamed into the darkness as the weapon fell down into your skull and - oh - you could feel the pain in your body as the pressure drowned you in rivulets of dark red against soil.

You woke up more often than not during the night now, the nightmares ripping through your body in the form of a loud, shaky scream that would fill the forest late into the evening. You found yourself more than once awoken by Jason. His hands would cling to your sides and be pressing you firmly into the bed, keeping your arms away from yourself as what cuts you had given your skin due to your ragged nails blossomed over you. It was as though you were trying to write a message into your own body. If you squinted close enough, the lines you had scribbled with your keratin on the soft flesh or your inner arm were almost readable in their entirety.

Your fault. You did this. She’s dead. It was you! Always you.

As you pondered the threats of the voice inside of your head, staring idly at the slowly healing scars that littered your body now, you were pulled away by a knock at the door. It was a pounding and forceful thing that sent your already sensitive head reeling into a momentary headache. You could feel the pain behind your teeth and you could already tell it would slowly become a migraine after a few more hours of leaving it be. You were sure you had some pain killers somewhere left in your bathroom’s medicine cabinet. If not, you mused, you had willow bark and some rosemary out in your steadily growing garden. You could always whip up a remedy for it using those.

The second solid knock on the door made you more weary as you approached it, however. It was not how Jason knocked. He did so gently, afraid of breaking your doorframe if he slammed on it too hard. He never wanted to startle you with his force and, besides, as of late you’ve been allowing him to simply walk into your home without knocking. It was his home now as much as yours and the thought permeated your weariness to offer a fleeting touch of euphoria.

The third knock was accompanied by a voice.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

You tensed, palms suddenly sweaty as you stared at the doorknob. You felt your stomach lurch in terror as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, biting down hard enough to feel the skin give into a bruising press of your molars. Jason was not due back from his daily patrol of the lake for an hour still. Likewise, he did not speak. He did not have a voice like that. Rough. Open. Unknown.

With a deep, long inhale you gripped the doorknob and slowly opened it up, the old wood creaking with every turn. You made a mental note to oil its hinges when you could.

The man standing in front of you was middle aged, the graying of the hairs littered in his beard giving it away that he was pushing closer to his 50s at the earliest. The thin lines of his wispy hair were hidden behind a dark brown Stetson rimmed with a small tassel of gold and a badge that indicated his status as a police officer from the local town station. Your mind could not read the words decorated on his tanned uniform. They floated against his skin like ancient hieroglyphs as you gripped the doorknob of your home tighter. Your knuckles turned white behind the frame.

You felt a cold rush of air hit your body and you stiffened, brows furrowing as you tried to act surprised and not as terrified as you felt beneath your skin.

“Afternoon, Ma’am,” The officer tilted his hat respectfully at you, “Sorry to bother you in… Your home. I just had a couple of questions for you regarding a few missing folks if that’s alright.”

You did not miss the pause in his tone as he looked around the forest, clearly uncomfortable in the vast outdoor space. You almost wanted to snort. Wasn’t it his job to patrol the woods? To keep hooligans and stupid hunters out of here in the first place? No, he wasn’t even doing that. Instead it was Jason who protected this forest. Who kept everything within it safe, far better than this fool who stood before you could ever do. You shifted on your feet, ignoring the damp spot of sweat growing on the back of your neck.

“Y-Yes that’s quite alright,” You managed out in a surprisingly even tone, your stutter passing as surprise for seeing an officer so suddenly, “It’s horrible to hear some people are missing, especially this time of year.”

“I know,” He sounded almost genuine in his remorse, “That’s why we’re asking around in case anyone’s seen them. Last I heard from another source, they were up camping out in the forest area around here. I figured since you lived up here, you’d be able to tell me if you’ve seen anything of ‘em around or close to your property? Have you ever walked around the forest and caught sight of some folks? Or seen any campsites set up close by, maybe?”

Your mind flashed to the images of the bodies dead on the forest floor, their red blood soaking into the mossy ground. Dead eyes stared forward at you in your mind, glossy with haze and their faces contorted into fear as their brains decorated the edges of tree trunks around you. You remembered the woman, your spade lowered into her skull and her blood warm on your hands as you watched her still pulsating organs devour themselves in an ouroboros of sin.

“Ma’am?”

You looked up with surprise, snapping yourself out of your momentary disassociation. You swallowed and sighed.

“Sorry, I was thinking if I’d seen anyone,” You were surprised how easily the lie left your lips as you shook your head, “Unfortunately, I haven’t seen anything but the deer lately. As far as I know, no one’s been around here.”

There was a momentary pause in the conversation. A quiet lapse as the officer gazed forward at you, a furrow to his brow marking his concern. Your heart pounded hard in your chest, moving its way up to your throat. He knew, you thought with terror rising in your veins, he knew that you were lying. That you had done it. He saw through your lies and into your soul. Into your sins and-

“Alright,” He nodded, “Thanks for your input. Now you don’t hesitate to call the station if you see any suspicious activity in this place, alright? It’s dangerous living alone in this forest, but rest assured we’ll keep it under control.”

“It’s been pleasant so far,” You find yourself speaking out softly, almost with a smile, “But I… appreciate the security, Officer…”

“Hughes. Darcy Hughes,” He introduced himself, his smile lines emphasizing his age as he gave you a brisk nod, “Take care of yourself and don’t get into any trouble, then.”

“I’ll certainly do my best.”

With another tilt of his hat and a hum to his lips, he turned away from you to file back into his police car that he had brought out, the top of it already slightly covered by fallen pine needles and leaves. He brushed them off gently before getting back in, offering one last wave to you through his windshield. You waved back, a smile plastered on your face as you watched him start up his vehicle, back out of the dirt driveway, and turn down the barely wide enough path to the town once more.

You didn’t stop waving until you were sure his car was out of sight. Slowly you turned back into your home, closing the door behind you, where you stood for a long, quiet moment.

Your legs shook the next second, trembling so hard that they gave out from underneath you. You collapsed to the floor, gasping for a breath you didn't realize you had been holding this whole time. You coughed, wincing at the pain of splinters gathering in your kneecaps, and you threw your hands out to catch yourself as you heaved. For a moment you felt like you were going to vomit onto the floor in front of you, but your throat was so dry with exhaustion that nothing dared to come up and ruin its scratchy heat.

You did it. You had made it out of that situation. Yet the weight on your shoulder burned like a brand, searing an invisible mark into your flesh as you cried out in pain, arching your back as if to escape the sensation.

Liar, your mind laughed at you, what a liar, lair, lair-

A new knock on the door startled you from your writhing episode on your floor. Your face paled in terror. Was the officer back? Maybe you could ignore his knocking. Maybe you could pretend to be in the back of your house and ignore the sound that scratched on your eardrums like a funeral march. Perhaps it was Jason? Returning early from his patrol and sensing your distress behind the door of your home? Your heart momentarily sparked with hope as you stood up on your feet again, feeling light headed as you turned and reached out, wincing at the feeling of the knob beneath your hand once again.

When you pulled it open this time, it was neither Hughes nor Jason. But someone new.

He was an older man, older than Officer Hughes certainly, with barely any hair on his wrinkled, liver-spotted forehead. The way his lip shriveled around his mouth indicated his lack of teeth, his sagging cheeks only serving to make the glare of dark brown eyes he trailed on you all the more intimidating. He stepped forward, invading your space the moment you opened the door. The scent of alcohol was radiating off of him, making you want to gag and cover your mouth as you took one step back into your home, swallowing hard.

“C...Can I help you?”

“Saw you talkin with Officer Friendly there,” He growled out with a raise of his eyebrow, “Told him you didn’t see nothin, didn’t ya?”

“Well, yes I-”

“Been a while since you been in town too, huh?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It was true, you rarely visited the small town just outside of Crystal Lake. Since your self sustaining farm had taken off, you really only visited for canned goods to stock up on during the winter, or to sell some of your fresh produce to the local grocery store for a little extra money in your pocket here and there. When you did visit, you rarely talked to any of the locals that did not demand your immediate business. You exhaled, your fingertips drumming on the wood of your door.

“I haven’t had a need to.”

The man smiled, confirming your hypothesis on his missing teeth.

“Ya may have fooled the police, girl, but oh I know. I know just what you are, you know. Ain’t gonna pull the wool over ol’ Eddie’s eyes, oh no siree.”

He - Eddie you guessed - got closer to you, his eyes narrowing in a squint as you set your jaw in worry.

“Yer a witch, ain’t ya.” The way he said it didn’t mean it was a question, “Livin out here with yer potions and yer nature. I bet ya killed those folks, too! But oh, it don’t matter. You got em fooled, don't you?”

He was advancing more now, dangerous in his posture towards you as you swallowed hard. You stepped back into your home, moving your grip on the door to quickly shut it, but his boot clad foot blocked the entrance so it didn’t shut all the way. You gasped as he crawled through the gap, a spider with crazed eyes and gnashing jaws as he reached out for you with a glare.

“I knew you’d be trouble since ya came! Changing our town’s ways an communin out here with them spirits. Y’ain’t gonna fool me, not me! You’ll get turned right in and they’ll see ya for what ya are, ya witch! Ya daughter of Satan! Ya-”

He suddenly wasn’t there anymore. With a surprised yelp his entire form was peeled away from your door. You held your breath in surprise, your heart beating loud in your ears as you waited for another sign that he would come in. That he would break the door down and rip apart your form in search of his evidence. In search of anything to call you a witch once more. You looked at your hearth of bones and dried plants, setting your jaw as you understood the accusations, but did not want to hear them.

Instead all you heard outside was another strangled gasp of surprise. A solid snap of something fragile. A thud of body to wood.

You waited a few more seconds before gripping the frame in trembling hands, slowly peeling the door open to reveal what had happened just feet from you in your home.

Eddie’s head was bent to face his back, his eyes wide and dead in shock as his jaw hung limply, broken and bruising the tender skin of his old face. Only a small amount of blood dribbled from the dislocation of his jaw and neck, the tendons bursting against the bruising skin. His fingers curled in on themselves like a dead spider would curl its legs on itself. You stared, blank and unsure for the longest of moments as your heartbeat slowed in your chest. As you licked your suddenly too chapped lips in an effort to hold back your growing smile.

You failed, exhaling as the edges of your mouth upturned into something of a wide, relieved looking grin. You looked upwards from the crumpled body before you, a blush heating your cheeks as you admired the man standing in front of it, his breath coming in ragged gasps against his chest as he followed your gaze.

Jason reached out to you, ignoring the body on your porch. His fingertips roamed the vast expanse of your skin, feeling for any wounds or any indication that you had been hurt before he could reach out to protect you. When you gave a swift sign of ‘I’m fine’ his shoulders sagged in relief. His gaze returned momentarily to the body at his side. One hand reached up to his form, the awkwardness of signing with just a single one making it hard to read but understandable nonetheless. He refused to let go of you for even a moment.

‘What happened?’

‘Police came. Townsfolk are getting suspicious.’

The hand on your shoulder tensed, the pressure in creasing for only a moment.

‘Then I’ll kill them.’

‘No! You can’t get all of them.’

‘I want you to be safe.’

‘I’m safe with you. Always with you.’

Jason paused then, his hand finally freeing your arm as he looked away. He gazed down at the body in front of him, its tangled limbs and broken spine an homage to just what he would do for you. As if aiding in his thoughts, the wind blew gently through the trees. Fallen leaves swirled upwards in a momentary tornado. In the background, your chickens clucked in their coops and the soil housing both your plants and the dead bodies gathered for fertilizer filled Jason with a suddenly intense sort of want. He looked back at you. Through his mask you could see conviction. Surprised at the look, you tilted your head at him, brows furrowed in confusion. You reached your hand out to touch his face, rubbing along the rough edges of his hockey mask in a gentle gesture, one he leaned into as your touch grounded him.

“What’s wrong?” You spoke this time, your tone a weak whisper as you searched his gaze, “What are you thinking about?”

How he knew the next sign was beyond you, yet he moved his fingertips with such conviction that you could not help the heart stopping gasp that welled inside of you when he managed it:

‘Marry me.’

[winterfluffs]

Santa Isn’t Real.....Right?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Someone has told your daughter that Santa isn’t real. Your husband is not too pleased. 

Warnings: Mostly fluff. A couple of swear words. Tiiiiiiiniest bit of implied smut.

Word count: 2.4k

Author’s notes: Thank you all so much to the people who have liked or reblogged the first story that was posted (I have now figured out how to make a cut!). It really means a lot!  This drabble, one-shot - whatever you’d like to call it was so much fun to write; just in time for Christmas! I hope you all like it as well. Also, it is a LONG one. 

Merry Christmas, everyone! Happy Holidays!

(* “Honey, go to bed.”)

“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” A voice boomed through the halls, heavy footsteps quickly stomping through the quiet compound. 

“Shit. Hide.” Clint Barton's eyes widened as he looked around at the people spread out in the living room. The heavy footsteps came quicker causing everyone in the room to run back to their rooms fear of what was going to happen.

----

 “Daddy!” A tiny teary voice cried out from the hallway. 

Bucky Barnes groggily opened his eyes, his ears immediately picking up on the soft crying. “Whsm?” He grumbled before sitting up and rubbing at his tired eyes. It was only 2 A.M. and he had just gotten to sleep an hour and a half ago. 

“Buck?” He felt you stir, your hand reaching out to pull his body back to yours.

“Daddy.” The soft crying was closer, coming from the doorway of yours and his bedroom.

“Belley?” you mumbled sitting up next to Bucky. A yawn escaped both your lips as your sniffling four-year-old daughter crawled up the bed. “Honey, what’s wrong?” 

“Daddy.” Isabelle looked at her father with tear filled blue eyes, her bottom lip quivering as Bucky wrapped his arms around her. 

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s here.” He cooed sweetly in her ear his vibranium hand making slow comforting circles on her back. 

You watched as Bucky whispered sweet words in your daughter’s ear in an attempt to calm her down from whatever had shaken her; your heart ready to burst with love at the sight. 

“Belley, tell daddy what’s wrong.” He cradled her close, rocking her in a comforting sway. 

“Santa isn’t real!” the little girl sobbed, her tiny hands wrapping around her father’s neck while she cried into his chest. 

Bucky's jaw clenched as he looked at you with slight worry. James Barnes had always been beautiful to you; but right now, seeing his jaw clench and already knowing what was going through his mind, he was breathtaking. He was in protector mode – a way he had always been with you but became even more fierce when your daughter was born. The day he found out you were pregnant he swore no one would ever hurt his little girl. Ever. And if someone did, he would make them pay.

“Baby, what do you mean Santa isn’t real? Of course Santa is real.” You joined your other half in trying to soothe your daughter’s tears.

“No! Santa isn’t real!” she spat back at you before clinging back onto her father. 

Your mind went back to the day you both found out you were expecting. Bucky knew, without a doubt, the baby would be a girl; his princess, a complete daddy’s girl, the spitting image of the dark-haired, blue-eyed man that had stolen your heart.

 And she was. 

From the moment Isabelle Marie Barnes made her entrance in this world she had her father wrapped around her little fingers. Everything Bucky did was for you and your little miracle. All the late nights staying up to finish a report, the even later nights spent training, his reluctance to do missions that would take him away from home for too long – it all was for you and your baby. 

Bucky refused to be a dad that wouldn’t be there for his child, and to yours and Bucky's surprise, the rest of the team had agreed as well. Steve and Tony especially. 

You blinked away the tears that were forming in your eyes, shaking off the sudden emotions to hormonal changes due to your being six-and-a-half-months pregnant with your second child.

“Baby, you need to tell me what happened.” Bucky’s jaw twitched again. You saw the anger forming in his eyes and placed a loving hand on his arm, squeezing it slightly. He looked at you, his resolve coming undone as he met your gaze. “Honey, Santa is very real. How else do you think you get presents on Christmas Eve?” he spoke quietly, deep blue eyes looking into even deeper bluer eyes.

 Isabelle stayed quiet yet looked between you and her dad. “Sweetheart, did you have a bad dream?” you moved her long tangled dark hair away from her face. She looked so much like her father your heart ached. 

Isabelle shook her head pouting while doing so.

“It’s okay, baby. You can tell mommy and daddy what happened. We won’t get mad.” You smiled at her yet gave your husband a stern look. The super soldier rolled his eyes then kissed your little girl’s hair, his head resting on top of hers. “Right, daddy?” 

Bucky shot you a look then sighed heavily. “Mommy and daddy won’t get mad, sweetheart. We promise.”

Feeling slightly better at your admission, Isabelle sat down on her father’s lap, her tiny fingers running along Bucky’s vibranium arm. “I was in my room when I heard a noise.”

“Honey, that was just daddy going to bed.” Bucky let out a loud laugh, the tension instantly gone from his face.

“Daddy, let me finish.” She looked back at him with a stern look. The same look you always gave him whenever he was teetering the thin line between being stupid and wanting to sleep on the couch. 

“Sorry.” You both hid a smile; you still in awe at how formal your child was at the age of four. Maybe it was the enhanced serum in her veins, or maybe it was just your thickheaded stubbornness, but your daughter was an absolute force to reckon with. So much so that she even gave Black Widow a run for her money. 

 “I heard a noise and went out to see what it was.” She sniffed, her head resting against Bucky’s chest.

 “Honey, you know you should have been in bed.” You sighed suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Mommy. You promised.” Her dark blue eyes landed on you.

“Yeah, mommy.” Bucky smirked giving you a playful look. You rolled your eyes yet couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I went out in the living room and saw someone taking presents from the tree! I asked if he was Santa and the man said that Santa wasn’t real.” Isabelle’s bottom lip quivered causing your heart to ache.

Bucky’s face had gone hard. The twitch in his jaw told you everything you needed to know. 

“Honey, Santa is most definitely real. Right, daddy?” you urged your husband to smile, pleading with him not to say anything. 

“Yeah, baby. Santa’s real.” He spoke lowly, his eyes focusing on the open door.

 “How do you know, daddy?” Isabelle looked up hope filling her pretty eyes.

“Oh, I never told you before?” he snapped out of his trance and looked down at his daughter.

“No! Tell me what! Daddy!” she bounced in his lap; her previous worries quickly turned into curiosity.  

“I’m going to tell you but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” He whispered.

“Not even mommy?” her eyes widened.

 “Mommy already knows.” He gave you a smile as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“What I’m about to tell you is very important. You have to promise me you won’t tell a single word to anyone.” 

“Not Uncle Steve?”

“Not Uncle Steve.”

“Not even Aunt Tasha?!”

“Not even Aunt Natasha.”

Isabelle looked up to face her father, the look of awe and wonder etched on her brow made Bucky almost break. He loved nothing more in his life than you, your daughter, and the little one growing inside of you; his heart clenched at the thought of any of you ever being unhappy. 

“Okay, daddy.” Isabelle nodded her head seriously. 

Your husband kissed you on the top of your head with a smile before turning back to your daughter. “I know Santa is real because I’ve seen him myself.” He whispered causing Isabelle to gasp out loud. 

“You…..ve seen Santa.” She whispered, her little mind spinning with the newly found news.

“Sure have. One Christmas Eve I was coming home late from work, even later than it is right now, and when I opened the door, there was a big man in a red suit with a long white beard. He had the biggest sack of presents I have ever seen. I tried to sneak away but he caught me.” Bucky’s eyes widened to match his daughter’s, her little body clinging to his every word.

“What happened next?”

“He looked at me and said, ‘James Barnes, I know what you seek in life, what you have always sought out. By midday today you will have found what you are looking for.’ And then with a smile and a wink, he flew up the chimney.” 

“Wowwwwww!” Isabelle gaped in disbelief. Her daddy! And Santa Claus! Clearly Santa was real because daddy knew everything and she also knew that daddy would never lie to her. Of course Santa was real! There was just one thing still bothering her. “Dad, what did Santa mean when he said all that weird stuff to you?”

“He meant that I would find mommy. He gave me your mommy. And then he gave me you. My best girls.” 

You looked up to find him beaming at the both of you. Your heart burst with love for him and your little family. Your one true love and happiness.

“I think it’s time we all get back to bed. We don’t want to miss Santa!” You gasped suddenly. “I think I hear footprints on the roof!”

“Oh no, mommy!” your little one gasped and flew off the bed racing down the hall to her bedroom. 

“I love you, Barnes. Thank you for always taking such good care of us.” You whispered your eyes meeting your husband’s.

“I love you, doll. More than you both will ever know.” He smiled and kissed you gently. “Let’s go make sure she’s actually in bed.” He laughed while wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you close as you walked to your daughter’s room.

----

“Night, munchkin. Olive you.” Bucky kissed his daughter’s forehead then pulled away with a smile. 

“Olive you, daddy.” Isabelle giggled while hugging her favorite stuffed animal to her. 

“Tuck the little one in and I’ll meet you back in bed. I have something to finish first but I’ll meet you straight back there.” 

“Babe, you aren’t going to do something stupid.” You gave him a look. That same look your four-year-old gave him just a little while ago. When your husband refused to meet your eye, you tried again. “James.” His cool blue eyes stared back into yours, a hint of threat still clouding his vision as he quietly cursed himself for inability to hide his emotions from you. “Baby, please.” 

Bucky sighed then nodded. He hated to love when you used his first name to get him to calm down. No one else had that power over him, and there was absolutely NO ONE else allowed to call him by his first name other than you. And maybe Santa, if Isabelle was asking. 

“Thank you.” You mouthed before turning to your little one. “Night, baby.” You kissed your daughter’s head with a tired smile. It was just past 3 A.M. and you wanted nothing more than to slip back into your warm bed, your arms around your husband as the both of you drifted off to sleep. “I love you, kiddo. Get some sleep.” 

“I love you. Night, mommy.” She yawned sleepily. You quietly shut the door and went to turn back to your bedroom. You were halfway down the hall when you knew something wasn’t right. And then you heard the yelling. You swore under your breath and ran to the main living room, hoping you would be able to stop your husband before it was too late.

----

“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” Bucky Barnes’s deep voice boomed through the quiet compound, his footsteps heavy and quick.

 “Shit, shit, shit!” Clint swore as he tripped over himself as he tried to reach his room before he was caught. 

“If I find out –“ Bucky stopped himself mid-sentence his eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. “Barton, if it was you - so help me God! You had better run for your life!” 

“Bucky! *Дорогая, иди спать. [ Dorogaya, idti spat’].”

Bucky turned to face the voice that had just spoken out. A surprised look overtook him for a moment before he started to laugh. “Since when do you know Russian?” he smiled and walked over to you, his previous mission already forgotten as he slipped his arms around your waist.

“Since I married a really sexy Russian Sergeant. Had to know all those dirty words he was moaning in bed.”

“I’m from New York.” He moaned against your lips, pulling your body closer his striking blue eyes staring into your own. 

“Still moan dirty Russian things in bed.” You smile and bring your lips to his. Bucky held you there loving the feeling of how close you two are. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“I love you, Mrs. Barnes.” He smiled while hugging you close. “Let’s get to bed. Don’t want to be awake for when Santa comes.”

“I’ll be right there.” You kissed your husband and patted his butt with a smile as he walked off. You went around turning out the lights stopping at the beautifully lit tree when you heard a door creak.

“He’s gone, Barton. You can come out now.” You called out into the darkness with a laugh. “You owe me.”

“Oh, I’m not Clint, Mrs. Barnes,” a voice replied with a chuckle in their voice. “But I am sure he will still say thank you anyway.” The voice chuckled again; this time louder, deeper causing your eyes to widen. 

You hurried down the hall, trying your best to keep quiet until you reached your room.  

“Babe, what are you doing?” Bucky sleepily looked at you as you ran into the room and dashed under the covers.

“I think Santa is in our living room.” You whispered into the dark. You felt your husband chuckle, his body warm and inviting as he pulled you in closer.

“Get some sleep. It’s been a long day and our little one will have us up in only a few hours.” He yawned cuddling into your body.

‘Maybe I am going crazy.’ You shook your head with a smile as your eyes slowly began to close. Just before you drifted off you whispered a goodnight to Santa almost feeling silly to be saying the words out loud. 

Just then you heard a woosh and with a small chuckle a voice said, “To all a good night!”