#and i cant bear the thought of them being torn away when i JUST grabbed ahold of them

[shadedrose01]

Tony the Teddy

Ship: None. Platonic (parental/paternal) relationship between Peter Parker and Tony Stark

Summary: Peter loses his teddy bear, and gains something more.

Tags: Febufluff, Day 10, Teddy Bears, Peter Has a Teddy Bear, His name is Tony, But Tony and Tony Stark are not the same thing/person, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Aunt May is a good aunt whos just trying her best, Mentions of uncle ben - Freeform, Light Angst, Peter is a sad boy for a bit in this, But Tony Stark makes it better, Fluff, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, Tony Stark Has A Heart

Day ten of Febufluff: "Teddy Bear"! (From the platonic list)

--

There was one constant in Peter's life growing up. When everything around him was swirled into chaos at the age of 7, when his parents got onto a plane and never came home, his uncle ben knelt down in front of him, told him the heartbreaking news, and gave him something.

A stuffie. A plush teddy bear with soft fabric in the shape of Iron Man's armour, apparently a gift his mother had planned to give him for his birthday but never got the chance to. Ben had given it to him, and had reassured him that he was so strong, as strong as a real life superhero, as strong as Iron Man, and that they'd get through this, the pain, the grief, the loss, together.

And Peter had held onto it tight, tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks, and had promised to his parents, to his uncle Ben and his Aunt May, and to himself that he would never let it go, no matter what. Later that month, Peter would be sat in front of the tv, eyes glued to the screen and holding the teddy close as Tony Stark announced that he was Iron Man. From that point on, the bear was named Tony.

Tony stayed by his side throughout his roller coaster of a life. Dragged behind him during the few childhood years he had left, as a shoulder to cry on whenever the bullies got too much and a buddy to talk to while he had no friends. Then, when he found Ned and grew out of the age where bringing around a Teddy bear was acceptable, Tony stayed home, but he was always on Peter's bed, always there, a constant presence and reminder of warmth, comfort and love, of security and safety, and home.

Then Ben died, right in front of his eyes, in his arms, and Peter's life was flipped upside down again, but still, Tony was there. He remembers coming home from the hospital, still coated in dried up blood, his uncles blood, blood that was split because of him, it was all because of him, all his fault-, and grabbing the bear as soon as he hits his bed, burying his face into it and sobbing loudly, his river of tears soaking into the matted fur. But he had remembered his uncle's words, "With great power comes great responsibility", had remembered that he was strong, that he had to be strong for his aunt and had pulled himself together, and had pushed forward, even as he longed to give up.

Everything after that was a blur, becoming Spider-Man on a whim, meeting the real Tony Stark, fighting in Germany, the 'internship', the vulture, homecoming, the real internship. It all happened so fast, and yet, there Tony was, still sat on his bed like all those years ago, looking worn and torn from good use, but still there, still kicking, still around.

But now, Peter couldnt find him. He couldnt find him, and he was freaking out.

Peter was searching his room, practically tearing it apart trying to find the precious stuffie. Where could he be? He was on the bed this morning, Peter knows, he remembers him being in his normal spot before he left for school, but now hes not there, hes not anywhere, and he knows Happy is going to be there soon, and he cant find Tony-

"Peter? Are you ready?" His aunt calls out from the living room, and Peter shakes his head violently, anxiously, still checking under his bed and around his drawers for any sign of the Iron Man plushie.

"I can't find Tony." He calls back, his actions getting more frantic as he searches places hes already checked again and again, his chest tighten and stomach dropping more and more as time goes on. He needs to find him, he has to-

"Tony?" Aunt May sounds amused but her show show her concern as he rounds the corner to his room, not even flinching at the scattered mess of it. "Isn't he who you're going to see?"

Peter groans, stopping momentarily to run his hands through his hair. "No! I mean, yes, but not the same one!" At his aunt's puzzled look, Peter expands on his explanation. "You know, the teddy bear? Iron man costume, kinda- kinda frizzy looking?"

His aunt's eyes brighten with recognition, but also with confusion, and a hint of guilt. "Ohhh, that guy? I thought you weren't into stuffies anymore, so I gave him away."

Peter chokes on his spit, his heart breaking, eyes widening. "You- you did?! May! Uncle Ben gave him to me, and he was from my parents!" His voice is high pitched, shaky and loud as tears burning his eyes, feeling ripples of loss rushing through his body. It feels like losing his parents, losing Ben all over again.

Aunt May makes a noise of sympathy and her face scrunches up with guilt, a downward tilt to her lips. She reaches forward and places a hand onto his cheek, rubbing her thumb back and forth soothingly. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry, I thought it would be fine, I didn't think it would hurt you-"

"It-its okay." He sniffles, blinking back his tears and forcing a smile on to his face as he stands, swallowing back the lump in his through. "You're right, I should be over it by now."

His aunt's face scrunches even more, her face turning even more gut wrenchingly guilty. "No, baby, that's not-"

Peter feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and, knowing it was from Happy, takes his escape as soon as physically possible. "I think Happy's here, I gotta go." He hears Aunt May call after him as he pushes past her and out the door, getting into the awaiting convertible quickly.

He isn't mad at his aunt, or blame her for getting rid of the teddy, she didnt know any better. She didnt know how important he was to Peter, but it still hurts, even though Peter knows it shouldn't. Its just a teddy bear, but he still finds himself wiping away stubborn tears the entire drive to the compound, feeling one small inconvenience away from sobbing his heart out.

He says a small thank you to Happy once they finally arrive, not noticing the man's worries stare as he takes a deep breath and makes his way to his mentor's lab, the doors opening immediately for him.

As soon as he walks into the room, Mr. Stark is already on his case, looking up from his project with a concerned frown, eyebrows furrowed. "Hey kid, everything alright? Happy said you were quiet on the way over."

Peter shakes his head and reinforces the fake smile on his face, hating the way his cheeks twitch with the effort. "Yeah, yeah I'm okay." His voice is quiet, subdued even to his own ears as he walks to his station, picking up a pair of tweezers even if he has no plan to use them.

Mr. Stark snorts at him, giving him a look. "Yeeeeah, you see, Happy also told me that you were crying the entire way up here too, and that little act you're trying to pull isn't sitting so well with me right now, bud." Peter just stares down at his table and shrugs, watching as the tools get blurrier and blurrier as wetness fills his eyes again. Mr. Starks tone softens significantly as he places a hand on to Peter's shoulder. "Come on, Pete, what's going on in the head of yours, hm?"

Peter sniffs and wipes his eyes with his sleeve, mumbling. "It's stupid."

Mr. Stark rubs a thumb against his shoulder reassuringly. "If its upsetting you, it isn't stupid, kid."

"It is. It's just a teddy bear." Even as hard as he tries to keep his composure, his voice cracks at the end of his sentence, his eyes fill up again and he breaks as soon as the words are out of his mouth, placing a hand up to his lips as the first loud sobs echoes in the room.

Mr. Stark makes a small noise, before pulling him into his chest, holding him tightly as Peter sobs, soaking his old, ratty tshirt with his tears, hand curled into the fabric as he spills everything, how his uncle gave him the bear when it was little, how it came from his parents, all they've been through together, and mostly how much it meant to him. It takes a few minutes for Peter to calm back down again, and as much as he hates to admit it, he feels quite a bit better now that the tightness in his chest has ceased, the grip on his lungs loosening slightly as he got everything off his chest.

"See?" Peter chuckles wetly, sniffling. "Stupid."

"Look at me, bud." Mr. Stark pulls away, and thumbs away the wetness still littering his cheeks, tilting his head up to make sure he's looking him in the eye. "Just because it's a stuffed teddy bear doesnt mean it didnt mean a lot to you," Peter goes to rebuttal, but Mr. Stark blows over him. "And just because you know your aunt didn't mean to, its allowed to hurt. You're allowed to feel this way, Pete, it shows that you care." He smiles gently at the boy, who smiles back shakily.

"Yeah, I-I guess so."

"I know so." Mr. Stark states like it's a fact, patting Peter's cheeks and causing him to giggle, the sound making Mr. Starks entire face soften. "Feel better now?"

Peter nods firmly, smiling easily now. "Yeah, think so... thank you, Tony."

"Of course." The older man gives his shoulders one last squeeze before letting go completely and stepping back, walking back towards his project, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Now that we're done with all that emotional shit, wanna help me on this?"

Peter just grins back at him. "Hell yeah."

A few days later, when Peter comes back for his internship again, a stuffed Iron Man teddy bear is sat at his station. Theres no note or anything attached to it, and Mr. Stark never brings it up, but Peter knows it's from him. And, as he watches the man working in the corner of his eye, he smiles softly down at the teddy bear, his heart warm. He may have lost Tony the teddy, and one of his last connections to his parents and his uncle, but maybe, just maybe, he can make some new memories with this little guy by his side. New memories with his friends, with his new father figure, and his new family as a whole.

[pinkjeanist]

hello, could you do hcs to dabi who has a fem!reader whats stain's successor?

peaches || dabi

a/n: im so sorry i cant do hcs, im just really bad at them??? but i wrote this for you!!! i actually really enjoyed writing it, which is odd seeing as it’s my first time writing for dabi. if you really don’t like it, i can rewrite it for you, so sorry in advance that i couldn’t make exactly what you wanted!!! [masterlist and requests]

desc.: As Stain’s successor, you often find yourself beaten and bloodied as you return to the hideout. Luckily, Dabi is always there to stitch you back up. 

w/c: 1,152

The sun was just beginning to rise as you limped back into the bar, keeping as much weight off of your now injured leg as possible. You found Dabi at the bar, nursing a half-full bottle of alcohol and an empty glass, and ignored the way your lungs tightened as you attempted to limp silently passed him. He only turned to you, frowning.

“What the hell are you limping for?” He eyed your leg, seeing the makeshift bandages you’d cut from old tarps in an alleyway doing little to stop the slow bleeding. The wounds were probably infected, now, but you’d worry about that later after you’d finally had some time to rest. Dabi didn’t seem to care how tired you were, though, as he called irritably to you: “I’m gonna have to amputate your damn leg if you’re thinking of leaving it like that.”

You turned to him, swallowing. “I’m gonna sleep first. Speaking of- why aren’t you asleep?”

Dabi’s frown only grew deeper as he began filling his glass, again. You already knew what he was doing up; you just liked to see him explain himself. “Doesn’t matter. Now stop being dumb and show me your leg.”

You huffed with a small smile as you propped yourself up onto the barstool next to him, and he moved behind the bar to grab the first-aid kit before returning. His words would sting if he actually meant them, which you knew for a fact that he absolutely didn’t, comparing his talks with you to his talks with anyone else in the League. Furthermore, you never had to ask him for his help with anything, because he was always oddly willing. You’d just been about to go to bed with a bleeding, possibly infected leg, and he’d been waiting to help you without you even thinking of asking for his aid. 

You didn’t know exactly what it was between the two of you, but you were grateful for it, nonetheless. You’d probably have already ditched the League if it weren’t for him. You wouldn’t call what you felt towards him to be love (at least, not yet, you assumed) but you certainly admired his brash personality, the way he held himself, his sheer devotion to your cause. And you couldn’t be sure what Dabi felt for you, but all things considered, you’d take what you could get so long as you had him.

You propped up your leg on the two stools between you. Dabi unwrapped your bandages and scowled at the wounds he found underneath as if they’d insulted him before digging into the first-aid to find the hydrogen peroxide and splash it mercilessly onto your wounds. You hissed but didn’t shy away, and he continued to treat your wounds haphazardly with various other items he managed to fish out. You were sure he’d been about to stitch your most prominent cut before deciding against it with gauze and moving onto your arms, which weren’t nearly as bad but still torn up.

“Did you win?” Dabi asked, lifting your legs off of the stool and taking the one closest to you to work better. 

You nodded, trying not to focus on the sensation of his hands against your bare skin. “Gotta say, he managed to get a few good hits in, but I did him in before he could do too much damage.”

“I can see that.” 

You both fell silent again, and it was nearly deafening. You weren’t sure if it was the blood loss or the sleep deprivation that made you speak your mind, but nevertheless, you found yourself asking, “Do you think I’m living up to his legacy?”

Dabi paused, knowing exactly what you meant but seemingly unsure of how to respond. You weren’t Stain- no one could do what he’d done as well as he’d done it- but Stain had left his mission up to you specifically. Anyone else that seeked to fulfill his wishes was just a follower, as you were the one he’d chosen. But even after a good four years of training, you hadn’t been prepared for his defeat, and had been left unsure in his absence. Every night, you came limping back into the bar after being nearly defeated once more, and it made you wonder if such constant failure was worthy of the title of “Stain’s Successor.”

But even with this, Dabi seemed to give it serious thought before replying: “He chose you. You’ve gotta be living up to his expectations, otherwise he was dumber than we all thought.”

You smiled warmly without having to think. Seeing your expression, he quickly ducked his head and continued patching you up. You noticed that he was a bit more gentle when he reached your hands. He was more gentle with the peroxide (did peroxide even actually work?) and slow with wrapping your hand in gauze, making sure it was done properly. He let your hand fall into your lap when he was done. It felt odd, not having him hold your hand, as if it was meant to be there. 

You stood and immediately regretted it as you began to fall forward, only to be caught by his truly. Dabi held onto you even as you’d gotten your bearings, and supported you as you began to limp towards the bedrooms. He stayed silent but was constantly attentive nonetheless, making sure you didn’t put too much pressure on your bad leg, and keeping an arm wrapped tight around your middle. 

You reached your room and quickly helped you get situated on your bed. You couldn’t imagine yourself having to get up in a few hours, as inevitable as it was, but you were sure you’d have to take the next night off from your “villainous” duties. It seemed Dabi didn’t want you to leave bed either as he tucked your blanket tight around you, making sure you were comfortable and staying put perhaps longer than what was normal. But nothing was normal about the League of Villains, and you didn’t want him to go, either.

“You can stay,” You croaked, “if you want. I don’t mind.”

He seemed to ponder it for a long moment before sighing, moving around the bed to join you. You could see how he practically sank into the mattress, just as exhausted as you were, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, waiting for you. 

You knew Dabi was never really comfortable around other people, so you took it as an honor as you drifted off together. It made you happy beyond words knowing he trusted you so much, and it should have frightened you just sleeping in the same room with a man like him, but you couldn’t have been any more at peace. 

Neither of you had been happy for a long time, but in those few moments before you drifted off, you couldn’t have been more ecstatic.

[scholar-thief]

[ RP LOG ]

Momori hunts for dodos and eggs with Njorthrbiartr “Biartr” Hjallr and Caelrin Morra.

Snippets of OOC chat in italics + blockquotes, for flavor. You can assume many actions were due to just, so many bad rolls. So many bad rolls.

@s-udarshana​ @vysaldhe

Momori) australia is like a high level zone irl (Momori) everythings so dangeorus!!!!! (Momori) kangaroos like, are cute on an abstract level. but then you see one in real life, and how it has an 8 pack and is JACKED and (Biartr) they are so JACKED LMAO OMG … (Momori) my mind is racing w/ thoughts of australia. who knows what I'll write I'm a loose cannon now (Biartr) oh god kalsdfhjsd

Momori - In the wild, wind-torn lands of Abalathia’s Spine, two adventurers find themselves yalms away from vicious “Gastronis” birds. These hefty, feather-covered spheres of mass prowl the lands, searching for delicacies hidden away beneath the soil, their legs powerful enough to go from 0 to 60 in a blink of the eye. As such, they made difficult prey for the local knights, not that many wanted to go toe to toe with what were basically legs attached to a ball anyway.

Momori spots a particularly JACKED one. How that looks on a goddamn sphere is...up to you. She points at it. “Shall we start?”

Biartr | When being told about the anatomy of these birds, and observing them from the sky, Biartr hadn't guessed that they'd be so...large. On all accounts, really. Most notably, she was rather concerned by the state of their legs, canting her head to the side to get a better look. "I'll admit I have my reservations," Biartr admitted, shifting from one leg to another as she squinted slightly. "I mean I can see why the wish to eat them, at the very least."

Caelrin: "--huh. Thought I saw some folks lackin' plate strollin' about here. Strangers two, but I've seen you 'round the ship before."

Biartr was glad to quit staring at the strange...muscular legs of the gastornis, brushing loose strands of hair from her features. "Ah?" Her head canted to the side once more in thought. "The same to you -- Ah, Biartr." She gestured briefly to herself.

Momori: “Each bird is enough to feed a camp for days. How many did we have to hunt again? Ten?” Momori tilted her head slightly, not looking forward to both hunting /and/ hauling back a literal mountain of birdflesh. She then looked towards the newcomer and gave a small wave. “Hello there. I’m Momori.”

Caelrin | Sure enough - the stranger is a vaguely familiar one, a Hyur seen about camp and ship - though perhaps a brute of scarred muscle was a bit more apt in description. Dull golden eyes shed themselves keen against the features of the lalafell and viera, affable and yet observing all the while - a placid, warm smile upon tarnished features all the same. "Biartr an' Momori, then. Well met. Caelrin, Caelrin Morra. Fist of Rhalgr - Monk of Ala Mhigo."

Caelrin: "...iffin I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds as if you two plan t' hunt."

Momori simply points at the strange ballbirds over yonder. “Ten of them, and their eggs. We were given rotten cabbages by the merchants, and hope to show goodwill by helping them with some hunting.”

Biartr inclined her head before affirming his suspicions with a short but firm nod, her golden gaze looming down only briefly. "We were unfortunate enough to strike a deal with a rather," Her shoulders rolled up and down languidly. "...Demanding trader."

Caelrin: ".....demanding trader. You two look savvy an' fierce enough to set to the hunt then, that's for certain. What stalls your intent? Waitin' for folks?"

Biartr looked towards the birds gathering, and finally back to the hyur with a slight grimace. Her voice lowered, perhaps she thought the birds could hear her. "...I've heard stories of sky pirates getting gutted from the power of their legs alone. Haven't ever seen one this...low down, admittedly."

Momori looks at the dodo’s fearsome, powerful legs, then looks back at Caelrin and Biartr. “Could go in, knives out. Maybe get punted off this plane of existence. Perhaps we could lay a trap for them instead?”

Caelrin | Of all answers to be given to such a question - given the slow, gentle rise of the brow upon Caelrin's countenance, it's clear enough to see *that* wasn't what he'd been expecting. A glance to her, and then, to Momori, before looking to the Gastornis in the distance. He's thinking. "....can't be any worse than a kick from a horse, fable or otherwise. Then again - one ain't three. Trap seems a bit too much - they ain't exactly big game."

Caelrin: "How about this - i get their attention, take the hits for you, while you two skewer as you please."

Momori: “Sounds like a lovely plan!” She gives Caelrin a pat on the back. If he was willing to bear the brunt of attacks from a herd of birds, then she would be first to jump on the idea.

Momori offers a moment of silence to Caelrin.

Biartr chewed slightly on her bottom lip, leveraging her height to her tip toes to get a look at the birds just beyong Caelrin. "They do have claws. Horses don't have claws." She had a point, at least -- and her gaze finally dropped, as did her height. "I'm not sure I could just watch you get beat pathetically by a Gastornis..." She squinted at Momori's answer, before gracing him with a rather pathetically confused look. "If I am outnumbered, then so be it."

Caelrin just sort of......stares. Rather than give into the ego of a lesser man under such scrutiny - Biartr's compassion, even if confused, earns a wry, warm smile delivered to her in mixture of reassurance and knowing. "I'm planning on it. Reckon you know not of th' faith, then - best you see it practice firsthand than me chewing your ear off with our ways. Trust me - I've taken far worse."

Caelrin: "But, iffin it puts you at ease - 's take it one at a time. Best we get the eggs first; these creatures might have materal instincts. Raid their nests, some'll come calling. Two birds with.....two eggs, I reckon."

Momori: “Oh, I’m sure ole’ Cael will be alright. Look at all the scars on ‘im! Birds will be no problem.” Momori then turns to look for a couple of birds to start with, and sees a pair nested by a tree on the top of a cliff. “Shall we?”

Biartr: "I have an idea for the eggs," Biartr interjected, raising a bone horn that was affixed to her waist. "It's entirely possible that I could ride my endymion and pick up the eggs from their nests one, or two at a time. We can fly and drop them off to a safe point."

Caelrin: ".....hrm. Hit-and-run tactics. If you reckon you an' your companion can be swift an' deft enough to do so, I see no reason for you to not try. More likely to spot nests from th' air than the ground anyways. Reckon you can handle that, while Momori an' I start setting to the birds."

Biartr: "Easily enough," She affirmed with a short nod, taking a step back to press her lips to her horn. Somewhere along the mass of tents, skirting one of the sky-islands came a purple-feathered beat. A little larger than the average endymion and of course, characterised by the muscular single foot -- swooping down to just behind the trio.

Momori takes one look at the beast and chuckles. “Gods, the size of that thing...I thought the dodos were big, but this could probably hunt them without breaking a sweat. But I’m keen on seeing Caelrin in action.”

Caelrin watches the creature with a particular interest - eyes of a man who, though having seen such beasts domesticated before, didn't quite expect to see one like this. Seems he knows well enough to keep his distance - it's no pet. With a nod, he glances to the lalafell, fists rising to clash knuckles with one another in solidarity. There's an audible *thud*, as if he'd just punched a shield. "Aye, no time to waste. Burning daylight."

Momori - The closer she got, the more...hesitant she felt. She couldn’t see beyond the chest of the bird. It looked like some awful, heaving bushel of orange feathers propped up on two legs the size of a lalafell each. Momori pulled out her two daggers...and waited for Biartr and Caelrin to give some kind of signal.

Caelrin , for one, doesn't seem daunted all that much - either by truthful discourse of having seen far worse, or merely by virtue of a firm shell of bravado. Regardless - a glance is sent in Momori's way, watching her produce her daggers before eyes train upon the bird once more - studying it, as if discerning where to strike first. He had to be humane about it....right?

Biartr | It hadn't taken long for the Veena to be seen and somewhat heard overhead. The only noise being that of the thunderous clap of the endymion's wings. The first nest that would be her target would be one teetering just on the edge of the isles. For the most part, the gastornis surrounded it seemed happily nesting until she had gone near -- at least it was a welcome distraction away from the other two.

(Momori) just start.... stabbing with me toothpicks?!? (Caelrin) KEK (Caelrin) also - are we rolling to attacks these or is it just. freeform killin (Biartr) Tenderise the meat and you'll be doing them a favour at the very least (Momori) oh man. if people play pokemon (Momori) fighting type is bad against flying right? (Momori) HHA (Caelrin) do you think these things fly (Biartr) dfjghdkfg (Biartr) and i don't mind rolls or free form, it *would* be funny to add a random element to it (Momori) if doduo is flying then ????????? (Caelrin) yeah i'm cool either way, i just wanna know before i have caelrin start things off (Caelrin) cool with it* (Momori) I'll roll, because RNG is fun :D (but will just use it as a rough guide of how things go)

Caelrin: ".....ah, hells with it," grunts the monk. Fists angle down and behind to the ground, and a low stance is taken before aether, in vicious jets, erupt and clash to produce force that sends Caelrin violently into the air before the gastorinis - only for him to aim to crash down upon it with a powerful axe kick.

Biartr | The endymion takes the first swoop down towards the nest, its powerful leg aiming to grab at the egg. Unfortunately for the bird, egg and Veena at once - its leg is perhaps a little /too/ powerful and during the lifting process, it manages to crush the egg rather carelessly. From overhead, a barrage of cursing can be heard.

Momori - While the birds are distracted by Biartr and Caelrin, Momori dashes in, daggers drawn. She mounts the back of one of the birds and becomes a whirlwind of stabs, but the whole attack is more akin to a kitten desperately trying to cause damage to a much larger foe. The bird pays more attention to the chaos Caelrin is causing.

Caelrin | With the first bird having assumedly been easily dispatched - Caelrin gets into it, now that the herd has sufficiently been aggroed. The monk is deft and fluid in his motions, focusing upon the next closest bird - it's almost comically how easily he fells it, a vicious aethercharged hook to his beak, leaving neon-violet aether in its wake, puts it down as if he were knocking out a drunkard.

Biartr | For the second round, the endymion swoops in to grab the next egg within the nest. A change of tactics, it seemed, throwing the egg up towards Biartr. The Veena manages to catch it, quite perfectly before it quite literally explodes in her grasp, leaving her covered in egg-toplasm.

Momori - Meanwhile, the dodo Momori is riding squawks! Once, then twice! It then dashes off, Momori hanging for dear life on its back, her screams growing faint as it gets further and further away. The speed is eventually too much and she tumbles off, disappearing into the tall grass.

Momori: "..............................." She gets up, the whole front of her covered in mud and tuffs of grass.

(Biartr) Benny hill theme music intesifies (Biartr) intensifies** (Momori) I need the playdead emote after all this (Momori) haha benny hill theme music BLARES and destroys headphone users

Caelrin | Two birds down - and yet, despite being so focused, Caelrin is much too occupied in the witnessing of Momori tumbling down and out over the dirt that the focus drops for just a second.  Not even a chance is had for him to accost the third bird, just watching as it rears back - only to peck him in the chest! Certainly doesn't draw blood, but the force of it produces a tough grunt and a backstep.

Biartr | This time, third time lucky? Right? Wrong. Biartr and her endymion swoop down a third time, only to be met by a rather territorial gastornis. The endymion's muscular claw picks up the would-be attacker as opposed to the egg. It's at least something that could be used to a form of advantage, and Biartr directs the bird higher, where it would drop the gastornis from a great height. It plummets to the isle not far from the duo, dead upon impact.

Momori tosses a dagger at one of the Gastornis, and the blade flies straight and true. It buries itself deep in the neck of the bird, ending its life swiftly. She wipes the mud from her eyes, steps over, and wretches the dagger out from the corpse without batting a lash. That was more like it - now, who’s next?

Caelrin | Who's next? The poor gastornis that's just pecked Caelrin square in the chest. With a clashing of fists and a grunt, the aether within, a sickly, violent, violet aether stokes, swelling muscle and shading over flesh and flaring like neon within veins. With particular speed a force, he seizes the bird by the literal beak with a single hand, heaving and throwing it down into the ground like a hulk would a trickster god.

Biartr had many an excuse for this situation. Namely, the fact that she didn't half-drown her head in a vat of ceruleum. Now that her endymion was finished trashing an entire nest, she ground both of their progress to a halt and stepped off the bird in the middle of the peninsula. Both of her hands dipped into the bright blue paint in a contained on her belt - and she practically painted her entire face blue with ceruleum. The woman now smelling like an engine room, and possibly glow in the dark.

Momori - Some dodos surround Caelrin, pecking and dodging. Others run around in dumb circles, kicking up dust and adding to the overall chaotic ENTROPY of the whole ordeal. Under the cover of mud and grass, Momori leaps deftly into the air and lands on the top of another bird, blades sinking down on where she stands. Another one down. The sight of something purple catches her eye, and she witnesses Caelrin go hulk on a Gastornis. Weird? Something to ask about later? Yes.

Caelrin | With the poor bird left in a small, feather-lined crater - now it was time to adapt and fight against one's surroundings. Peck and dodge as they may, combat aqgainst beasts was a specialty of Caelrin's, and pecks are weaved through or land uselessly against powerful arms or iron-like muscle. Another bird bites the dust with retaliation, as a streaking overhead fist hammers down firmly upon its cranium - followed with an audible *crunch*.

Biartr | The somewhat lost-looking Viera had now a certain fierceness about her, if you could see her once more in the sky. She had stood herself on the back of the endymion, who had swooped towards the second nest, grabbing the egg neatly within its clutches. It leant towards the side with its swoop, allowing the Veena to pick up an egg within her grasp too. The two flying briefly off to deposit the eggs within Cloudtop.

Momori slides under a bird, dragging her blade through as she moves between its legs. As it collapses, she quickly turns back and gives it another good stab near the neck, as to end its suffering quickly. How many was that now? Seven?

(Momori) cromch (Momori) god that sound. I'm thinking of that video where someone bites a banana horizontally and it makes just, the worst sound (Biartr) N O (Caelrin) HELLO? (Momori) IS. IS THAT THE SOUND?? (Caelrin) IDK WHAT YOU MEAN (Momori) here I will show you (Biartr) im trying to find the video dkfgdf (Caelrin) wow i REALLY HATE THIS (Caelrin) but no not quite the sound (Momori) that cronch sound is burned in my memory (Biartr) perhaps just speed it up a bit to 2x (Biartr) and that's the sound (Biartr) anyway im going to eat my keyboard (Momori) ahaha PLS

Biartr | Its perhaps not the sun for Biartr and her endymion. The purple-feathered 'friend' comes into contact with the third nest and only a horrid 'squelch' can be heard as the two overzealously destroy all of the eggs and the single inhabitant within it into a mushed pulp.

Caelrin | Seven, eight - frankly, Caelrin stopped counting after the second. His focus remains firmly upon seeing the herd cleared and brought to rest, even that which was eternal. Despite this, the assault continues from the last few present, and Caelrin endures with the same defense and speed he had at first - though the birds are starting to pelt a little more fiercly. Maybe avenging their fallen brethren - or all those eggs. He's handling it well, though.

(Momori) so. so many eggs exploded (Momori) f (Biartr) Biartr out here looking like boo boo the fool (Caelrin) should've put on clown makeup (Biartr) peels off her flesh to reveal a full clown suit with make up (Momori) dfjsldjfkls jfSDJFSDKJ

Momori hears something behind her, and she whips her head around. The motion is too fast though, and her hair slaps right onto her eyes. Momentarily blinded, something hits her on the back and sends her flying through the air, right towards Caelrin.

Caelrin | Momori may have despaired - but rest assured, with a monk on the team, she's in good hands. Literally; she's been *caught*, a reactionary movement made to preserve himself and her. With a huff, he promptly tosses her like a football to the nearest bird to continue the attack, while he occupies himself with another satisfying crunch of a gastornis cranium.

Momori - The bird catches Momori.

Biartr | Despite being out of practice for the traditional 'hunt' that Biartr was accustomed too, perhaps she was getting back into the hang of it. Somewhat, at least. Once more, the Veena and her mount swoop down into a nest and carry off two eggs back towards the Camp. There is an air of chaos to it, as the gastornis attempt to trample (read: follow) the egg-snatchers.

Momori - Lalafell under wing, the bird sprints to its nest and slam dunks Momori into it. Touchdown! Momori is just, done. She lets it happen. Dead inside eyes gaze to the sky.

Caelrin | Nevermind. She *isn't* in good hands, for she is now in a nest. Unfortunately, the said bird finds itself sideways and slackened as a vicious dropkick is loosed into its flank - seeing it skid along and through dirt and rock to its death in retaliation. Not quite a slam dunk, but - it's a goal. Goal. Goal. GOOOOOOALASSOOOOOOOOO

Biartr | It's not a great time. It's an awful time. The next set of nests Biartr and her endymion race for are the ones precariously teetering on the edge. Except, now they're not on the edge and are dropping into the clouds below. Ooft.

(Biartr) Roblox oof. (Caelrin) do the eggs also explode mid-fall (Momori) HAHHA (Biartr) :pensiveclown: (Biartr) we'll go with no and see if we can salvage it with a /good/ roll. (Caelrin) also actually how many birds have we killed (Caelrin) is it like....8 or 9 (Momori) I think 10?? or 9. But we can round up (Caelrin) 9.7 birds > Biartr literally rolls a 1  (Momori) OH My god!!!! (Biartr) BYE (Momori) this is MOMENTUOUS (Biartr) im laughing so hard rn (Caelrin) : ) (Caelrin) the endymion releases an egg - it explodes as soon as it's out (Biartr) ????

Momori sits up in the nest, in time to see a bird crash into a rock. Absolute chaos. She looks up, eyes searching for Biartr and her companion. Something in her gut tells her that she better be watching.

Biartr | Biartr's concern for Calerin getting gutted by a muscle-leg flightless bird was misplaced. Especially now that she was somewhat over-hulked on the mix of ceruleum and paint on her face. Her endymion flies off, for now, but Biartr appeared to have been dropped amongst the piles of birds. Or moreso, thrown - her body skidding through the mud in a dirty, yolky, blue-faced mess. Nice job.

(Biartr) ah I also don't have /playdeadon this character (Momori) splot (Caelrin) roblox death sound (Caelrin) also who's Calerin (Biartr) hello darkness my old friend (Momori) long lost twin (Momori) evil dark twin (Caelrin) Calerin Moarr (Biartr) his more attractive sister (Biartr) biartr: overjuiced on paint. me: overjuiced on coffee (Caelrin) LMAO (Caelrin) aight one last roll since i think this bird be the last yeah? (Momori) sounds good!! (Biartr) :) (Biartr) biartr is gonna have to just end up being "Look guys I am actually really cool okay please beliEvE ME"

Momori silently stares at Biartr, gaze flat and serious. But seconds later, she bursts into a laughter so powerful she topples over on the floor. A bird comes over and sits on top of her as if she were an egg, and the sound of laughter is muffled by several layers of feather.

Caelrin | Biartr's concern for Caelrin getting gutted by a muscle-leg flightless bird may have been misplaced, certainly; after all, given all the carnage on the ground, as well as the beaten and slain birds with crushed heads and perforated necks, it's clear the two are handling themselves well. One bird left - and that is all it takes for Caelrin to lose focus long enough to watch Biartr faceplant into the dirt and mud. Nice job. Instinct has him rushing to move to her - but he takes his eyes off his prey long enough for the very same bird that sits on Momori to kick the monk squarely in the stomach, raking as well. A flash of red and a few ilms driven back. Okay, yeah - it's got a kick.

Biartr merely stares flat-out, looking at the sky - the only movement is the heavy rise and fall of her chest. For a moment she moves the spear off her back, throwing it towards the duo in a hope she'd at least skewer a bird, only for the spear to fall short and plant into the ground shy of the target near Cael.

(Caelrin) ......does the tail of the spear have a sharp end too (Biartr) it does! just shorter than the usual (Caelrin) e x e c u t i o n t i m e.

Momori can’t hear what’s happening. What’s going on? In the warm darkness she’s trapped under, she fumbles about, hands searching for her daggers..which she doesn’t find. No, the bird seems to tell her. It is egg time. Time to be egg.

Caelrin | Momori will not be egg. Not today - not this time. Like being birthed from the womb for a second time, the lalafell is thrown into the world of light and air as the bird is quite *literally* pulled off of her and lifted into the air with bared teeth and a low snarl. He's clearly fed up with all of this - and tempers his frustrations accordingly with due justice. Biartr's spear is just nearby, waiting like a pole - and just like that, the monk slams the bird upon its tail-end with force.

Caelrin | Skewered - unfortunately, not a good kebob. Still raw and feathered.

Biartr continues to lie deathly still amongst the grass and bird corpses. There is likely a thought process of if she lays there still and long enough, she'll be forgotten about. The Veena is hoping, at least.

Caelrin: "--Biartr!" calls the monk, who's patting down his front with gauntlets as that peculiar violet aura begins to fade, drifting away with particles bleeding into the wind. Sorry - you're still here. "You alright over there?"

Momori doesn’t say. A word. She picks up her daggers.Then, a bird. Wordlessly starts making a pile of their bodies. She additionally steps over to Biartr, and waves a hand over her eyes. “...Shall we carry you back as well?”

Biartr continues to stare at the clouds overhead. She is plain-faced and taking a deep breath. "You can leave me here." There's a half-smile, though her brows are in knots and speak an otherwise rather frustrating story.

Momori cracks a mud-caked smile at Biartr. “This was certainly.......exciting.....Let us not speak of this in detail.”

Caelrin: "........I'll keep me lips locked an' shut real tight," the monk remarks, having moved over to join the two - considerably less dirt-coated as the two of them.

Caelrin: "Did good work either way, methinks. 's ten birds, and.....however many eggs you got before you...took your fall."

Biartr continues to lay flat-out, though her gaze at least lifts to dead-stare at the two of them. "Four eggs." She paused, gesturing to herself. "Five if I'm put over the campfire."

Caelrin: "Be a real cruel merchant indeed if he decided to accept scrambled Viera on top of all we're to recover."

Momori nods. “At least the merchants will be pleased. And no one is injured, though our egos find themselves devastated. Nothing a little merry-making can’t fix.”

Biartr: "I've had more flattering moments, admittedly." She sighed, pushing herself to her feet, a hand wiping away the mixture of egg and paint near her eyes.

Momori: “I’ll go carry over all the birds, and wash off. See you back at camp?” She gives a small wave, and busies herself with bird delivery.

Biartr: "Of course, thanks for keeping up the bargain."

Caelrin | "....merry-making to be had indeed, after all of this chaos," the monk chuckles, canting his head all the while as a glance is sent back over the shoulder to observe the handwork. With Momori's bidding, he offers a nod and parting wave. "--aye, be safe. See you back at camp."

[hardyimagines]

Fitz

This is called ‘its 2 am and I can’t sleep so I wrote this in 30 minutes’ also I watched this today and can’t get him out of my head!!!

DRABBLE ( SHOCK )

Warnings: smut (;

———

“Jesus, would you just drop it?” The heaviness of your tone warned the surrounding men to back off. Your agitation was seemingly growing by the second and the gun that Bridger had aimed at John wasn’t helping the situation at all. Your hands were set firmly on your hips, jutted out to the right side as you scrutinized the situation. “Put that down before you hurt yourself.” Bridger looked toward you, lips curving downward at your lack of worry. Did you not think he would pull the trigger and blow Fitzgerald’s brain all over the blanketed snow?

Fitzgerald was sat calmly on the rock he’d been sat on for an hour. His boots shuffled noisily in the crunching ice below as he adjusted himself on the boulder. It was beginning to irritate his rear, not exactly the most ideal surface to be perched on. He pushed another piece of meat past his lips, unbothered when pieces of it clung to his strands of facial hair. You moved past Bridger and took it upon yourself to brush away the gross-looking piece of food from his beard.

Bridger lowered his weapon then, eyes falling to the ground in defeat. He doubted he’d ever be able to shoot a man that wasn’t a physical threat. He took a small step back and then another before turning on his foot and heading back down the small hill toward the circle of men gathered around the growing fire.

You let out a heavy breath before pinching John’s beard. Tugging on it in the slightest to draw his attention solely on you, you sent him a glare before moving around the rock so you stood at the ledge of the cliff. Peering down at the river, you watched the racing water, crashing against itself and hidden rocks to create large splashes and life-threatening waves. You folded your arms, unable to admire the scenery because you were too alert for threats. There was no peace here, despite how it appeared.

“You just gonna starve yourself till your body eats its way from the inside out?” Fitzgerald muttered gruffly. His fingers pinched the raw meat, tearing it from the bone it was attached to.

“I don’t like that..” You told him firmly. “You know I dont. I’d rather eat some fish.” You hated fish. “Why the hell cant you cook it? You’re going to get sick eating it raw like you do.” Turning to face the man with a squint, your arm extended, finger pointed toward the flame a few feet away. “Sitting in the circle for ten minutes to warm the meat up won’t kill you, you know?”

“Being near Glass is bound to do the trick.” He bit back. Rising from his spot on the rock, he instantly towered over you. The coat that had been draped around his shoulders began to slide off of his broad form, unnoticed by him, so you stepped forward and swiftly caught the collar. Drawing it more securely around him and back into its proper place, you let your hands linger on his shoulders.

“You are such a baby.” Your words were a whisper. A playful tone danced in your insult.

Fitzgerald seemed to like the atmosphere you’d created, for he stepped closer to you, blue eyes gliding along your features as you smirked up at him. He lifted the meat, already cradled in the center of the two of you. But you swiftly stepped back and pushed his hand away.

“Oi, come here.” The hand that wasn’t coated in fresh blood extended toward you. He grasped ahold of your hip and easily drew you back toward him. “I wasn’t finished messing with you.” The meat in his hand was tossed on to the rock, instantly staying in place because of the amount of snow.

“I don’t want to be anywhere near you.” You teased, hands finding the middle of his stomach in order to keep some distance between your body and his. It was pointless, but he let you think you were actually doing something. He pretended to be restrained for a second before he managed to overpower your arms and lug you into him completely.

“Come on, give me a kiss.” His puckered lips were so very inviting, but the speckles of blood in his beard reminded you of what he’d just been feasting on.

“Baby, I really don’t want to kiss you after you were chowing down on some raw meat.. I love you, but I do have some restrictions.” Staring up at him intently when he trapped you against his bulky body, you weakened the longer he held you.

“Oh, you don’t want to kiss me?” He whispered, leaning in nevertheless. “Don’t break my heart, now..” He whispered as quietly as he did when there were threats present. You shivered noticeably, lips parting so you could let out a shaky breath. You heart thumped deafeningly, rendering you silent for a second.

“I do want to kiss you,” You elbowed him in order to get away. “but not when you taste like dead meat.” Shoving him back and away from you, you took the advantage of him being momentarily stunned before rushing toward the small hill so you could join the other men around the fire.

Glass watched from his peripheral, the way that you and Fitzgerald messed around with one another. He couldn’t believe it. John Fitzgerald was a cold, heartless son of a bitch that no one would miss should he fall ill or be slaughtered. Glass took a bite of the fish he cradled, dark eyes illuminated by the glow of the fire. He shared a look with Henry, neither one of them understanding how a man so cruel, so heartless, so careless, could fall in love. John went from beastly and inconsiderate when around them, to this playful, loved up teddy bear when with you. It was mind-blowing. He was two different people.

John was quick to follow you back toward the group of tired men. Nobody lifted their gaze to him, but most lifted their gaze to you. Soft smiles, polite ones, were exchanged. The men shuffled to make room for you, but didn’t bother making a space for the man that you — for some reason — loved. They knew he’d settle down behind you. You practically collapsed in the snow, kneeling in front of the fire happily. Basking in its warmth, you leaned forward to grab a stick and some of the raw meat on the plate in the corner. Jabbing the sharp end of the twig through the food, you stuck it in the flame and watched as the heat cooked your meal.

Fitzgerald lowered himself down behind your kneeling form. His legs opened wide, offering you the perfect place to settle down once you were ready to eat. He removed the canteen strap from around his neck before placing it by his side. The water sloshed noisily inside the hollow bottle, catching your attention for only a second before you looked back to the fire.

Bridger was avoiding all means of eye contact with John, too afraid to look at him after holding a gun to his head. He’d done it for a stupid reason — simply to show that he had some sort of power over the previous situation. It was about direction, where they needed to go, how they needed to get there. Long story short, they disagreed and Bridger thought drawing his gun was wise. It wasn’t. Fitzgerald would remember that.

Dropping down on your rear, you settled back and against John, small hand finding his thigh as you used his chest as a steady surface to lean on. Your knees bent, closed-toed shoes smushing the snow beneath them as you happily munched on the cooked meat.

John pressed his lips against the back of your head, leaving his mouth there for a few moments as he relaxed. He was warm. He didn’t know if it was because of the fire or your little body, but he was grateful for both. His lips moved from your head, down and around to your ear, resting there for a moment before he spoke lowly — almost inaudibly.

All the men around the fire found it difficult not to watch the pair of you. You were the only girl they’d seen in months and of all the men in the group, you’d chosen the meanest one. The smallest ounce of affection reeled them in so when you craned your neck around to inspect the bearded-bloke, they couldn’t stop staring. You lifted your hand to his cheek and pinched it softly before stealing a soft kiss. Shyness didn’t accompany John, not in the slightest. He didn’t care if the entire group watched him bend you over and take you on a sprawled out pelt, but you were a bit more.. classy.. than that.

“Quit it.” You whispered against his lips in response to the disgusting things he’d just whispered in your ear. You discreetly squeezed his thigh before looking back to your food. In attempt to distract yourself from the bubbling want in your belly, you pinched the meat and pushed it past your lips.

John didn’t mind the fact that you were playing hard to get. He knew it was because of the group. If nobody was here, he knew you would’ve rolled over on to your back, opened your legs, and begged him to do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that the pair of you were crazy about each other. It wasn’t a secret that you had sex. So he didn’t know why you were being so shy about it. His fingertips trailed along the length of your arm, so rough and cold against your skin, but still welcomed. He wore torn gloves, fingerless now because of all the hard labor he’d had to do over the last several months. His free hand found your hip, gliding along the waistband of your trousers. You briefly looked south when his thumb grazed the button on your slacks, but you didn’t say anything. He was just being John, he wasn’t actually going to do anything.

Your fingertips were red from touching the meat in your hands, tongue and teeth the same despite the fact that you’d cooked it semi-thoroughly. It wasn’t well done, it had been a little under medium rare. You let out a breathy sigh before looking toward the stars as they began to twinkle above. It was getting darker by the minute.

Shadows danced alongside the flame, joining in the branches of the swaying trees. John was continuously tracing the button on your trousers, caressing the cold metal as if it were really all that interesting. All of the men had lost interest and were now either trying to doze off, finish their meals, or get closer to the fire. You finished off your own meal, tossing the stick into the flame onced you were done. John drew you into him even more securely then, unable to resist from being your main source of warmth. You closed your eyes and gave yourself over to his touch.

Months ago when you’d been found scavenging through their campsite, they’d been ready to kill you. Fitzgerald, in fact, was the first one to remove his weapon from its holster. You weren’t a woman then, you were just a threat and you would’ve been disposed of if it hadn’t of been for your quick tongue. You’d explained how you’d been taking from your own camp whilst sleeping. The French, so angry and careless, had swept you from your sanctuary and taken you from your friends. Who knew if they were even still alive? You were very, very lucky to have escaped the bastards who’d taken you — one little mistake they’d made and your ran for days. You hid in tight spaces, avoided all open areas. You’d been on the run until the men you resided with now had found you. John’s group was nothing like the French. Nothing at all.

Fitzgerald had been on the side of the men who thought it was wise to kill you. You could’ve been a liar, a scheming thief, a heartless bitch with no care in the world for the men. And you probably would’ve been shot if it hadn’t of been for Glass. He found you necessary to keep, should an actual problem arise and a trade was needed. It was ironic, how you’d ended up with the rudest bloke of them all — but you considered yourself lucky. Beneath the hard, tough exterior of Fitzgerald was a cuddly teddy bear and he was all yours. He’d grown so attached to you and your smart mouth.

Fitzgerald undid the button on your trousers, instantly making you straighten defensively. Verbally asking him what the hell he was doing would only draw attention to the pair of you, so you remained silent. Your eyes dropped to his hand and your own fingers followed. Grabbing at him to try and shove his greedy palm away, you swallowed thickly. “Fitz.” You hissed breathily, attempting to be as silent as possible. He paid you no mind. The tips of his fingers moved under the waistband of your trousers, slipping further and further under the material until he was wrist-deep in your pants. The urge to gasp was strong, but you swallowed it down and instead let out a strangled whimper that you tried to disguise as a cough. It worked.

His fingers grazed your slit without hesitation, delicately caressing you. He was careful, slow, and beyond grateful for the warmth you gave back to his fingers. His mouth moved to your ear, husky and low as he spoke. “Close your eyes and keep calm.” His hips pressed against your lower back. “Let’s not draw any attention to ourselves.”

You craned your neck around slowly, mouth skimming his chin before you spoke against his beard. “I’m breaking up with you.” You grumbled sweetly.

He smirked visibly. “Well, then I’d better savor this, shouldn’t I?” He marked his words by firmly pushing his fingers against your clit and rolling the hardened bud gently around in a slow circle. Your eyes fluttered shut, body growing heavier and heavier as he held you. He leaned in and kissed your nose before adjusting his head so that your face fell into the crook of his neck.

The only person able to see what the two of you were actually doing was Glass and that made John feel completely in control. Cocky. Hot with pleasure to rub this into the bastard’s face. He wasn’t sure why he clashed so much with the man, but he did.

John took his time to pleasure you like he said. One finger made its way to your entrance, sliding into you with so much ease because of how wet you were. The other fingers played with your clit, poking and teasing and rubbing the bundle until your feet were squirming in the snow. He took pride in what he could do to your body. Red-faced, heavily breathing. He loved the way your knees pressed together and your hands fisted in the icy snow. You were the loudest woman he’d ever been with and he got so much pleasure from that. So to see you squirming, so desperate to make a sound and let him know how good he was doing, it made him feel quite powerful.

Glass knew what the two of you were doing. He was the farthest thing from an idiot, but he wouldn’t give John the satisfaction of knowing he was watching. He tried to distract himself, tend to hawk, look at the food, watching the surrounding trees to ensure that they weren’t being stalked — anything to keep from ogling the pair of you.

Fitzgerald added another finger, pumping it simultaneously with the other and jus as agonizingly slow. He wasn’t usually so tender with you, he was a rough lover, a hard, fast man that took the dominance and ran with it. This was a different side to him, one that you actually quite liked.

Your toes curled inside your boots and your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip. Nibbling at the pink flesh until it was sore and swollen, you didn’t stop fidgeting until your body grew tingly. “Oh, John..” The words were impossible for anyone to hear. He felt your clenching around his fingers, making his job in pumping them a little bit more difficult. Your back pushed into his chest firmly, feet sliding in the snow as you arched slightly. He moved his mouth to your neck, attempting to mask your orgasm with a look of mere pleasure from a neck kiss. You whined breathily, thighs closing and trapping his arm in place. He could tell you wanted to thrust your hips, rock them vigorously in order to draw out your orgasm, but that would be too obvious, so instead you twitched and wiggled, eyes clamping shut as wave after wave of ecstasy ran through you.

It took a few moments for you to come down from your orgasm, but once you had, you were unsure of whether to punch him or kiss him. He withdrew his fingers from your trousers, lifting them instantly to his lips so he could lick them clean. He blamed it on the fact that he didn’t have a rag, but you both knew it was merely because he wanted you to see just how much he enjoyed you. Your soft eyes moved along his face before you lifted yourself up and rotated around. Kneeling between his spread thighs, you hooked your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips against his own. He let out a moan of surprise, hands lifting to steady your hips as your mouth assaulted his. You slid closer, moaning unashamedly into his mouth. This part — you didn’t care if everyone watched or heard. He swallowed each of your sounds with ones of his own, grunting and humming each time you suckled on his tongue. His hands moved south to your thighs, gripping them so he could guide you completely on to his lap. Forcing you to straddle him in his seated position, his hands returned to your hips, urging you to grind against him.

“Mh..” You drew back breathlessly. “Let’s go.” You hissed. Standing from his lap, you shoved your messy strands of hair out of your face. Leaning over in order to snatch his hand, you lugged him up with difficulty.

John would’ve asked questions, but he already knew where you wanted to go. Somewhere — anywhere private. Who was he to deny you?

He followed obediently as you pulled him away from the bright, cracking fire and through the trees until it was impossible to see. He had no time to ask questions before you had him on the ground, covering your body like a blanket as you laid in the ice cold snow. Your hands were on his waistband, undoing his belt and shoving at his trousers desperately. You hadn’t wanted him this badly in months, not since the very first time the pair of you had slept together. It was exciting — risky, hot, and it made you feel so happy.

How he had such a strong effect over you, you didn’t know, you’d been trying to enjoy your meal and now here you were, hungry for something so different. You supposed that’s what love did to people.

—

Morning came around sooner than anybody would’ve liked. You were fast asleep against Fitzgerald’s chest, sleepily nuzzling into him the brighter that it grew to be. His arms were wound around you snugly, protecting you from the cold wind that whipped around your bodies now and again.

Glass was fast asleep, Hawk was messing with a stick, Bridger was on lookout duty. Henry was peering down at the river. Anderson was snoozing still.

You rolled around again when the sun’s rays weaved through the tree branches and shone down directly on your face. Whimpering in distaste, your hand moved to your face, shielding your eyes from the alarm clock that you didn’t ask for. Opening your droopy eyelids, you leaned up on your elbow, sleepily peering down at Fitzgerald as he slept soundlessly. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. So peaceful, unbothered. You stole a very small kiss, a brush of the lips before you rolled to the side and leaned up on your knees. Rising so you could stretch, your arms extended high up into the air, hands closing into tight fists as you woke your body up fully. There was no going back to sleep now.

Stepping over Anderson’s legs, you made your way toward the ledge where Henry was and peered out at the water that noisily raced along stream.

“Sleep alright?” He inquired quietly.

“Mh, crick in my neck, but that’s bound to happen.” You told him quietly before sending him a soft smile. “You?”

He nodded. He didn’t speak again for a few more moments. “It’s quiet.” He adjusted the rifle in his hands. “Where are all the animals?”

You lifted your gaze to him, arms folding over your chest. His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, stomach churning in disapproval at his assumption. “You think someone’s near?”

Henry pursed his lips. “Arikara don’t ever come this far.” He whispered softly. “You stick close to Fitzgerald.” He turned away from you then. “I reckon it’s the French.” He didn’t want to scare you — but at the same time he did. Letting your guard down was the last thing anyone needed and he wanted to be sure, even if it meant scaring you into it, that you were safe and protected.

You stiffened visibly before slowly moving your gaze back to the stream. All the memories of being held hostage by the French came rushing back. You felt sick, cold, and afraid all at once. It was enough to make you think you were going to pass out. You wobbled on your legs before hurriedly moving back toward your space beside Fitzgerald. You never wanted to be held hostage again, not by the low-life, scum of the earth pricks who’d had you before. Your hands fisted against your boyfriends chest, beating against it firmly enough to wake him.

“The French are near.” You whimpered out brokenly. “I can’t go back to them, John.”

He was bleary-eyed, momentarily confused. Your words didn’t register within him for a few moments, but once they had he was up and his rifle was in hand.

Their was a pop to the left, a loud crunch and then the sound of a gunshot. Glass was awake in seconds and Anderson rolled into the fire from the sheer shock. They dusted themselves off before lifting themselves up and all at once, the men prepped themselves for a war.

The French were here and not a single one of them was visible.

———————————————————————

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[kyber-kisses]

Torn

(Gif not mine, credit to owner)

Steve Rogers X Reader

Prompt: #30 “ I dont care what they say, to me, you are perfect.”

Summary: Sometimes battles leave scars, and sometimes there are no ways to hide them...

  Things were never supposed to go this way. Then again, things rarely ran smoothly for the Avengers. So you found yourself here, running through what you thought was an abandon Hydra base. You could hear the chatter of the rest of your team through your earpiece as you propelled yourself down the dark hallways. All you had to do was meet them at the rendezvous point, then everything would be fine.

Another explosion racked the building, making you stumble across the uneven ground. Luckily for you, you didn't have hydra agents at your heels like everyone else. Before this mission you had memorized the maps of this base inside and out, so you knew the exact route that would take you to the team the quickest.

As you rounded the next corner you were taken completely off guard by the massive Hydra agent. He towered above you, and before you could even plan your next move he was swinging his arm into your chest, sending you flying into the concrete wall behind you. A groan escaped your lips as you slid down the wall. Your mind was fuzzy and your eyes could only see the blurry figure a few feet away. The hydra agent had something in his hands, you could tell by the way he moved them. With a burst of energy you shot forward in a desperate attempt to take him down, but unfortunately your moves were sluggish from being thrown back. You were unable to keep yourself balanced, which in turn handed over the advantage to the hydra agent. Once again he pulled his massive hand back, proceeding to give a very strong back handed slap to your face. Your body spun slightly as you reached out for the nearest wall to catch yourself. Your face burned. It burned a lot. It felt like fire was crawling across your face. Tears threatened to spill over your eyelids as you reached up to clutch your face. As your fingers hit your skin, a sharp sting shot through you cheek, making you pull back. As a result you looked down at your hand, seeing a very distinct shade of red coating your palm. Still in shock, you were unable to fight as the agent took you by the throat, pinning you to the cold ground of the base. You tried to scream, but his hands crushed your windpipe, rendering you speechless. You squirmed under his body, using your hands you tried desperately to claw at him. His strength was too much for you, and it didn't help that your oxygen was being completely cut off from your lungs. You could feel your eyes slowly rolling back into your head as you began to loose consciousness.

So this is how you were going to die. Pinned down and choked to death by one measly hydra agent. So much for being one of earths mightiest heroes...

Just as your world was fading into total darkness, you could hear someone shouting down the hall and then the weight that had been bearing down on you was gone. As air slowly started to fill your lungs, you could feel a set of hands gripping your shoulders, and through the haziness in your eyes you saw the faint outline of a face. Knowing you were now safe, you let yourself fall back into unconsciousness, too tired to fight against it.

(One week later)

You reached your hand up towards your face for what felt like the millionth time, desperately wanting to scratch at it. The bandages across your face were beyond annoying and the stitches underneath didn't help at all. Just as you were about to ease the annoying itch a hand grabbed onto your wrist, pulling it back.

“Steve, it itches so much!” You whined, letting your head fall back onto the pillows.

“ I know it does,” Steve chuckled, his hand falling back onto the armrest of his chair.” But Dr.Cho gave you strict orders not to mess with it.” 

You whipped your head around quickly to send Steve one of your famous death glares. It had been a little over a week since Steve had saved your ass from the hydra agent. Apparently everyone on the team came back with a few scrapes and bruises, but you had it the worst. When Steve had found you, the left side of your face was soaked in blood. Later they found the source was a pair of brass knuckles with some very nasty spikes attached. When he had slapped you, they had torn into your skin, leaving claw like marks down your face. Helen tried her best to patch you up, using everything she could, including a hand held device that helps generate tissue. But even then, technology can only do so much. So here you were, cooped up in the medical bay at the compound, with a face full of stitches and bandages.

“Helen said that she would come by tomorrow to take out your stitches.” Steve continued, pulling you from your haze. Steve. Sweet, sweet Steve. He had come in everyday to sit with you in the med bay, keeping you from dying of boredom. You would never admit it but Steve held a very special place in your heart. You had overtime developed a childlike crush on the super soldier, and how you had kept it a secret this long still blew your mind. 

Nearby a communicator went off, signaling it was tie for Steve to depart. Your heads both turning towards the device.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay if I leave you alone?” Steve questioned, standing up from his seat. You rolled your eyes, waving him off.

“What am I? Five? Go I’ll be fine.” 

Steve gave you one last smile before nodding and exiting the room. 

A day later you found yourself cringing under Helen's touch as she peeled back the bandages from your face. You had asked the rest of the team to leave for this, not knowing how even you would react to what was underneath. 

“I told you to stop moving.”

“Sorry, I cant help it. You’re pulling stitches out of my face.” You were unaware of how much time flew by as Helen gently removed the stitches, finishing it up by using the same device she had used before. It felt odd, it had the same feeling as your feet when they fall asleep. It was almost like you could feel the tissue being created on your cheek. 

“Okay. I think im done.” Helen nodded, placing the device on the tray next to her.” Now like I said before, Bruce and I are still working on perfecting the technology so there are still some scars.” Helen gave you one last look before leaving, understanding you probably wanted to be alone. 

You raised a shaky hand to grab the hand-held mirror that was on the side table. You took a deep breath before raising it to your face. What you saw shocked you ever so slightly. It wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Four long scars stretched from underneath your eye, down to your jaw bone. The device Helen had used had done wonders, making them much less gruesome. You gently traced them with your finger, feeling the different texture of the skin. It was definitely different, no question about that. They would still draw eyes, but not as much as you thought.

Deciding it was best to head back up to the rest of the team, you grabbed your jacket off a nearby chair, slipping it on quickly and for the first time in a while, stepping out of the medical wing.

Before all of this, you never really cared what you looked like, but now, now something had changed. As you walked towards the elevator, you found yourself pulling your hood up, in attempts to somewhat conceal your face. Still, the few agents you passed, gave double looks to make sure what they were seeing was real. You understood that none of them meant to hurt your feelings, but you could see some of them whispering to each other. Hiding their lips behind folders and papers, sending looks towards you. That’s when it hit you like a tidal wave. Steve. Oh god what would he think? Changing your direction you found yourself walking outside the tower instead of going to meet the team. 

You lost track of how long you wandered the streets of Manhattan, so as the sun sunk down below the horizon and the now regular stares of strangers settled into you mind, you understood you had to go back at some point. But you still found yourself walking as slow as you possibly could. Dreading the looks your friends would give you as you entered the tower. Steve's reaction scared you the most. How could he care for someone as broken as you? But that’s the thing, You had always had immense courage even as a child and so that is what pushed you forward, into the elevator at the tower. Yet even as you rode up towards the common area, you still felt a small part of you being insecure. Maybe you could just hold out until tomorrow to see the team? You could just hide in your room until tomorrow. So you threw your hood back over your head and prepared yourself to quickly dash to your room. As the doors slid open you rushed out, desperate to not be seen. You were doing well up until the last hallway you had to go down.

“Y/n!” Steve’s voice echoed behind you, making you falter for a moment.But you pretended not to hear him, the only thing on your mind was getting to your room. Steve called your name once more, this time much closer. shit shit shit. You cursed to yourself as you pressed forward.

“Y/n! Hey!” A hand grabbed onto your wrist, halting your movements. You ducked your head, not daring to turn and look at him. “y/n, whats going on?” You could hear a sense of worry in his voice, which only mad your eyes prick with tears. You stayed like this for a moment before pulling your hood back and slowly turning to face Steve. You half expected him to step away but he didn't, instead his features softened as he looked at you. 

“Are you not freaked out by my face?” You questioned, feeling the tears slide down your face. Steve let out a light sigh.

“Why on earth would I be freaked out? Because of the scars?” Steve raised a hand to slowly press to your cheek. You leaned into his touch, lightly nodding.

“I didn't want you to see me like this. . .” Your eyes flickering towards the ground.

“Why?”

“Because Steve...I love you.” Steve raised an eyebrow at that, slightly confused.

“I’m sorry, I’m not following.” He lightly smiled.

“Why would someone as amazing as yourself even look at someone like me?” You questioned, using your sleeve to wipe the tears away from your face.

“Hey! Y/n, don’t ever talk like that!” His voice raising slightly.

“People are already talking Steve. And honestly the way people have been looking at me isn’t very warming.” You were now slightly annoyed as you spoke.

“Y/n, Im gonna tell you something: You have no idea how long I have been beating myself up about asking you out. Hell, I’v only been in love with you for the past year and a half.” 

Your eyes widened as you shook your head.

“Im sorry- your WHAT?!” 

Steve quickly reached out for your shoulders, in attempt to calm you down.

“Okay, lets try this again:  I don’t care what those people have been saying, to me, you are perfect. You have always been perfect. From the way you carry yourself to your massive caring capacity.” 

“Well shit Rogers, you might just have made me fall in love with you even more.” You smiled, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

A/N: I apologize to all my readers for the piece of garbage. Please forgive me, I have forgotten how to write...

[hysterialevi]

Abraham - A RDR2 Fanfic

Fanfic summary [NO SPOILERS]: Lyle Morgan and his eleven-year-old son have a conversation about Beatrice’s death, only for the boy to witness a second one.

Warning(s): Mild language

Author’s note: Bear with me if not everything in this story is correct. I’m not entirely sure where Arthur’s originally from (all I’ve heard is that he’s from somewhere in the north), so I just made something up lol. Also, this fic will only be one part. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

From Lyle’s POV

A FOREST SOMEWHERE IN MONTANA

SUMMER, 1874

Strollin’ through the tall, thick grass, I led my mount around the forest at a casual pace while my son sat on top, consumed by his journal as always. It was an hour or two before midday, and right now, there was a radiant blanket o’ sunshine bathing the entire forest, painting everything with a golden tint. It was beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day out here...but this feeling of annoyance just wouldn’t stop naggin’ me, and I knew exactly why.

I briefly glanced over my shoulder, peering at my son as he scribbled something down in the weathered pages of his journal.

A quick sigh escaped me.

I didn’t know who the hell Arthur got his interest in art from, or why Beatrice even bothered buying him that book, but that child just couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from it. Every time I came across the boy, he was always scratchin’ down some fantasy world of his, or creating images of a utopia I ain’t ever seen. It was pointless.

He spent more time daydreamin’ in that book than he did playing outside, or hunting, or fishing -- hell, he didn’t even know how to read -- and yet, Beatrice seemed perfectly content with it.

Or at least...she did.

Beatrice weren’t around no more. She was killed by bandits a few months ago. Robbed. Left on the side o’ the road for the crows to feed on. But Arthur didn’t know that. Sheriff told him it was a wild animal that took her. A wolf, to be exact. And he believed him.

I dragged a hand down my face, suddenly feelin’ exhausted just thinking about it.

Had I done the right thing, not tellin’ Arthur the truth about his own mother’s death, I wondered? I figured the kid didn’t need to know the morbid details, or even the entire truth, but I still felt like a piece of shit for not revealing the full story -- especially considering that them bandits who killed Beatrice...killed her ‘cause of me.

I had stolen something from them. Somethin’ valuable. And before it fell into their dirty hands, that “something” apparently belonged to a rich plantation owner who really wanted it back. Ended up gettin’ one of the bandits hanged, and left them thirsty for revenge. But they didn’t have the strength to go after the plantation owner. So, they came after me instead.

They chased me for quite a while. They chased me across the mountains, across the swamps, across the goddamned snow...until finally, they came to their senses and realized there were much better, more convenient ways of hurtin’ me. And thus, their paths diverted to my wife and son.

Those bastards managed to corner her while she was ridin’ to town to do some shopping. Found her on some secluded road between here and the nearest settlement, and ensured she would never return. That was when Arthur went lookin’ for help to find his missing mother hours later, and the sheriff assured him a wolf had gotten to Beatrice.

Christ. I really was a terrible father, weren’t I? Not only did I pay more attention to a bottle o’ whiskey than my own wife, I had also neglected Arthur for years on end, and indirectly gotten his mother killed. And the boy was only eleven.

He had spent half of his life not knowing a damned thing about where his daddy was, or even what he did, only to lose the one parent he already had before he could find out.

Lord...there had to be some way to make this up to him.

I looked back at the boy, suddenly feeling an urge to say something -- anything -- to him.

“Arthur,” I called out, catching the kid’s attention as his head perked up from behind the journal’s pages, “put that damned book away for a moment, will you?”

The boy hurriedly marked his place in the journal with a pen and shut it closed, resting the object on the saddle’s surface as he hung his head low in shame.

“...Sorry, sir.” He murmured.

I shook my head, lettin’ out a concerned breath.

“You spend far too much time in that journal. It was a mistake to buy it.”

Arthur’s eyes wandered to the trees towering around us.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he apologized timidly. “But I like drawing.”

I scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I like Poker. But I ain’t got time to play it. Too busy worryin’ about survival, and keeping the both of us fed. You can’t always do what you want, Arthur. You gotta provide. Things like drawing, gambling...they’re frivolous. We got better things to worry about.”

The child quirked a brow. “Friv-uh-less...? What’s that mean?”

“It means we don’t need to do it,” I explained. “What we do need, however, is to eat. So put that journal away and keep an eye out for deer. You was the one who suggested we come out here in the first place.”

Arthur frowned in a discouraged manner. “Yes, sir.”

I gave him a stern nod. “Good boy. Now...you said you seen a big buck out here?”

The boy pointed ahead. “Yeah. It was by the river.”

I gave the reins a little tug, urging my horse to follow me. “Then that’s where we’ll start. C’mon, Boadicea.”

Continuing our little hunting trip, Arthur and I traveled deeper into the lively woods as creatures of all types scurried around us, rustling blades of grass and alerting the tiny insects that hovered above the plants.

There was a rather peaceful mood to the forest today -- a welcome change considerin’ how chaotic my life usually was -- and I had to admit: some part of me enjoyed being here with Arthur. I rarely ever got to see the boy because of my work as an outlaw, and when I did, he always seemed reluctant to leave the house. Whether that was because he was more of an indoors person, or simply ‘cause he weren’t eager to spend time with me -- I didn’t know. But it was good to be with him regardless.

Approaching the large river, I came to a temporary halt as I crouched down and examined the ground, carefully searchin’ for any tracks that could’ve possibly led us to the buck.

The area here appeared undisturbed -- save for the fish flopping in and out of the babbling water -- and as far as I could tell, there weren’t no deer running around this section of the forest. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe they were at a different part of the river.

I took a closer look at the grass, only to be torn away from my thoughts when Arthur raised a question.

“Dad?” He asked softly. “Can I...can I ask you something? About momma?”

I paused, thrown off-guard by the sudden change in tone.

“Momma?” I repeated, slowly turning towards the boy. “Why you wanna talk about her?”

Arthur’s expression sank with sorrow.

“It’s just...you knew her better than I did. Or longer, I guess. And I don’t remember her that good. ...Do you?”

I gazed at him in a puzzled manner, admittedly still a bit taken aback by the abrupt question.

“...Clear as day,” I replied, unwilling to sift through the painful memories. “But that don’t matter. She’s...she ain’t coming back, Arthur. No one does, once they die. Ain’t no point in lingerin’ in the past when it can only haunt you. All we can do is move on. You understand?”

Clearly a bit hurt by my response, Arthur dropped the subject and averted his eyes from me, peering over at a nearby gathering of flowers instead.

He slouched despondently. “...I understand.”

That wasn’t good enough for me. I took a step towards him.

“Look at me when you say that, Arthur,” I demanded. “It’s important you look people in the eye when you speak to them.”

The boy brought his line of sight back to me, his face veiled behind a very subtle layer of fear.

He straightened his back a bit. “I understand.”

I nodded in approval. “Good. Now...let’s get back to huntin’ this buck. You sure it was around the river?”

Arthur gazed around. “I saw it this morning when I was playing with Copper,” he confirmed. “It was drinkin’ water right here. That’s when I came to get you.”

I observed the dirt underneath me, squinting my eyes as I searched for clues. The grass in these parts was quite thick, so that made it even tougher to spot fur, or dung -- and I still didn’t see any deer tracks -- but it certainly looked like another animal had been around here.

I kneeled down, shuffling the grass outta the way with my hand.

“It looks like some wild horses might’ve passed through this area,” I examined. “But no sign of deer. Oh, well...the day is still young, and we have some time, so we’ll keep looking.” I gestured to a nearby bridge. “Let’s try over there.”

Grabbing my horse’s reins, I continued to guide it through the woods as Arthur scouted the area for me, his big blue eyes scanning the sharp horizon while the sun escalated in the sky. There was a certain determination in his temperament now, and the longer we carried on trying to locate this buck, the more my son seemed to be enjoying himself.

Perhaps there was hope for us, after all.

“...Dad?” The boy called again, making me flick my eyes to the side. “What if there are wolves out here?”

I encouraged him to stay calm. “Now, don’t you go worryin’ about that. If we see wolves out here, we’ll be fine. We’re armed, we’re fast, and we’re smart.”

Arthur wasn’t convinced. “...Momma was smart.”

I sighed in a melancholic tone at that. “Yes...she was. But...Momma was killed by a different type of wolf.”

He tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “What d’you mean?”

I gestured to my rifle. “Not all wolves are the same, Arthur. Some use their teeth, some use their guns, and some use their tongue. You gotta be able to identify them when you see ‘em.”

The kid didn’t say it flat out, but I could tell he knew what I was really talkin’ about.

“Those sound more like people.” He replied. I let out a gentle chuckle.

“People can be worse than wolves, Arthur. In fact, I’d prefer a wolf over some o’ the people I’ve met.”

Arthur leaned forward in the saddle, his body swaying along with Boadicea’s steady speed.

“What kinda people have you met?”

I lowered my voice, thinking back to the bandits who killed Beatrice.

“Killers. Thieves. Deceivers. Men who will constantly betray each other even though they share the same motive: greed.”

I turned to Arthur with a remorseful look, hopin’ to do at least one right thing in my life, and use myself as a cautionary tale that money weren’t as clean as it seemed.

“...Greed,” I told him, “it breaks people, Arthur. They may not realize it, ‘cause greed can get you far in this world...but the reward ain’t worth it. Not compared to the things you have to sacrifice. In the end, you’ll have tons of cash, only to realize that there are luxuries not even millionaires can afford.”

His innocence took over. “Then why do they do it?”

That was a question I asked myself everyday. I shrugged in a disheartened fashion.

“Because they don’t care. So long as their pockets is heavy, and their bellies is full, they’ll keep on going. But like I said, greed poisons you. It kills you. And you won’t even notice until you’re already sittin’ in a grave. So promise me, Arthur, promise me that when you get to my age...you won’t become a wolf.”

Despite evidently bein’ a little confused, the child was able to make some sense of what I just said and agreed to the promise, reassuring me with a small smile.

“I promise.”

“Good boy,” I praised, bringing my mind back to the main reason we came out here. “Anyway, here’s the bridge. Why don’t you hop down and help me find this buck?”

“Okay.”

Sliding down the saddle, Arthur effortlessly climbed down and joined me, scurrying ‘round like a mouse while he searched for any signs of the buck. But so far, there was nothing in sight.

“See anything?” I checked. The boy shook his head.

I wiped some sweat off my brow, letting out a fatigued sigh. This animal was certainly proving to be a challenge to hunt down. We had already been in this forest for a couple hours now, and our efforts still hadn’t paid off. Part o’ me was almost starting to suspect if Arthur even saw a deer in the first place, and not some other kinda animal.

I decided to take a short break, and turned to ask the boy.

“You positive the buck was roamin’ around in these parts? Or that it was a buck at all? I haven’t seen any tracks so far.”

A soft rustle suddenly reached my ears, interrupting my conversation with Arthur as I reached for my gun, only to be stopped by a sound I didn’t expect.

It was a man’s voice.

“...Don’t even think about it,” the stranger warned, cocking his own gun. “I will shoot if necessary.”

Freezing at the intrusion, I remained perfectly still and didn’t utter a single word as a pair of footsteps steadily approached me from behind, followed by two more men coming in from the front on horseback.

They were all dressed in similar outfits donned with Nevada hats, and I couldn’t help but notice the star-shaped badges shimmerin’ blatantly on their chests.

Shit. These were lawmen. What the hell were they doin’ out here? I never expected the law to travel this far into the country. This was definitely odd.

What really puzzled me though, weren’t the fact that there were three lawmen just...waitin’ for us out here -- it was more the fact that Arthur didn’t seem phased by any of this in the slightest. Just what exactly was goin’ on?

Trotting closer to me, one of the mounted men glowered in my direction as he ordered his deputy to restrain me, his firm, steel eyes never wavering.

I recognized him instantly.

“...Sheriff Buchanan.” I muttered through gritted teeth.

He returned the greeting, scowling from under his hat’s rim.

“Lyle Morgan.”

I shrugged at him, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“What is this shit? What’s the sheriff doing all the way out here?”

Buchanan glanced at Arthur, standing in front of him in a protective manner.

“I told you I’d use every option I had to get you behind bars, Morgan...and I meant it. You made the choice not to heed my warning.”

Taking a second to process what he just told me, the realization suddenly hit me like a bullet to the gut as I stared at Arthur with a sense of immense betrayal, unable to believe what was happening.

There never was no goddamned buck.

Things was never gonna work out for me and Arthur.

This was all a trap.

My own...son...had turned me in.

He was the bait, and Buchanan was the true hunter.

I clenched my jaw in rage, doing my absolute best to shield my emotions as the deputy kicked me to my knees.

“...A-Arthur...?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The boy looked me straight in the eye, standing adamantly beside Buchanan as his deputies tied me up. I threw a glare at the sheriff, damning him till my last moments.

“You bastard, Buchanan...!” I cursed. “You turned my own damned son against me...?!”

The man showed no guilt and tightened his grip on his rifle, silently advising me to stay back.

“No need,” Buchanan denied. “You drove him to me all by yourself.”

He placed a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder and guided him towards the second deputy, ordering them to bring him back to town.

“Clayton, bring the boy back to the office. We’ll figure out where to send him later. For now though, just keep him safe, and look after him.”

“Right away, Sheriff.”

Preparing both his horse and mine for departure, the deputy left Arthur next to the sheriff as the boy stood firmly in place, his innocent yet damaged gaze never leavin’ mine.

Despite the hint of remorse clouding the child’s eyes, it was pretty obvious Arthur felt he made the right decision in turning me in. And just as Buchanan’s second deputy started to drag me away, I couldn’t help but notice a beautiful Whitetail buck wanderin’ around in the distance, its majestic antlers standing out like a crown on a monarch’s head as it bathed in the golden sunlight.

The animal swayed its head in my direction, almost as if trying to communicate with me.

“I’m sorry, dad,” Arthur whispered as he walked towards Clayton, blocking the buck in the process. “...But you made me promise.”

Taking his leave, the boy finally mounted up and steadily trotted away from the scene, only to reveal an empty spot where the buck once stood as he left the forest.

Well...I may have found the buck like I planned, but it weren’t my job to kill it.

And it certainly weren’t my place to look for it.

I could hunt them down to my heart’s content, and kill ‘em all I wanted for my own desires...but in the end, they would always be able to afford the one luxury I’d never obtained.

Peace.

[clown-bait]

Cheer Up (Monster Roommate AU)

I saw that a lot of you lovely people have been going through a bit of a rough patch and frankly I had been too so I put this together. Leechie has a bad run in with some enemies and is feeling really insecure. Pennywise swoops in to cheer her up. Or he tries to at least. Penny’s method seems to be the old shake and yell but he puts in a lot of effort and its the thought that counts.

The young nosferatu pulled her beanie further over her bald head as she stomped through the sewer. Today had be a rough day, so much that she decided that she was just going to spend her entire evening doing nothing isolated from everyone. Best place to do that was in the sewer there was too much going on back in the house anyway with holidays.

The only issue was shed have to deal with her clown. A hurricane on crack was easier to deal with than he was. As she stepped into the cistern the circus cart dramatically fell open revealing said clown laying in his nest in the most over the top seductive pose possible A flower that looked unceremoniously yanked from the ground by the roots was clenched between his teeth. he had even torn open his shirt like that of a cheesy romance novel cover. If she wasn't in such an awful mood from earlier she would have burst out laughing but she did grin a little and shake her head “oh great and he's horny.” she thought to herself.

“Hiya gorgeous.” he said huskily wiggling his eyebrows. Leech rolled her eyes and slid her backpack onto the stage.

Pennywise frowned when he didn't get the reaction he wanted and sat up.

“Oh come on!” he pouted

“You look ridiculous” Leech said not looking at him,

“Fun wrecker. What’s put you in a mood hmm?”

Leech removed her beanie and jacket flopping back onto the nest “Work.” she grunted.

The clown settled next to her running a large hand over her torso and up her side. “Let ol Pennywise cheer you up then pet” he leaned down and kissed her temple but she was distant something else was going through her head. Leech rolled away from him and let the emotions she had been bottling the whole way home slowly release. Penny cocked his head to the side and sniffed her then he sat up. “Tell me.” he demanded.

“I’d rather not”

“You can either tell me or I’ll find out”

“What’s done is done Pen revenge wont make the damage better”

The clown growled growing angry at her stubborn self deprecating attitude. He grabbed her and pulled her back over onto her back in frustration only to pause when he saw the tears in her eyes, one of which was slightly bruised. He realized she came in without her wig or her uniform. The clown glanced over to see her hand was wrapped in a crude bandage and there were scratches starting from her ear to below her jaw. She’d been in a fight again.

“Who!”

“Pen-“

“WHO!”

“If I tell you you'll get me in even more trouble”

His eyes were furious red and yellow and he was snarling. She was being difficult with him and he would not have it. No one made his girl feel this way. He slammed two horrible claws next to her face and roared snapping his jaws. Leech didn't react beyond a sigh.

“Alright fine I got into a fight after work”

“You were attacked?”

“Well,….I was kinda the attacker” she looked off to the side.

“What did they do”

“Some girls from the sorority said some things. I punched one in the face while they were leaving.”

“And your hair?”

“I-“ tears pricked her eyes and shame stung at her face. “I didn't win the fight” she found that she couldn't hold the water works back and tried to cover her face in embarrassment.

“I was weak there were three of them and- god damnint I'm such a shitty vampire.” she sat up and hugged her knees covering her head with both arms. “I don't even know what you see in me, I cant even win a fight without getting the shit kicked out of me and robbed. Some shitty monster I turned out to be.” she sobbed into her jeans “I'm not worthy of being here”

“Cut it out Leech” Pennywise snarled.

“They were right, I'm a fucking ugly loser trying to act like I matter”

“Stop talking” he roughly tried to unwrap her but she hissed and yanked him off.

“I should have just stayed dead”

“THATS ENOUGH” the clown roared. He yanked her up to a standing position not caring if he was being too rough. “LOOK AT ME” he yelled. “It seems like you need to be reminded of your place in the hierarchy on this miserable floating rock”

“P-Pen”

“SILENCE” he boomed causing the vampire to cry and whimper more. “It goes me, you, the dirt and everyone else you got that?! The only person above you is me, no one else!” he grabbed her throat and pulled her tear soaked face towards him. “You got that Leech?” tears flooded down her face and fear radiated off her for once in his life Penny didn't like the smell of it.

“Stupid girl” he snarled and pulled her against him. He felt her cold tears on his bear skin and he squeezed her tighter. “Well make them pay little one they’ll learn their place.” he mumbled. Pennywise sat her down and held her, letting her slip her hands in the hole he had torn in the chest of his costume earlier. Comforting wasn't his forte, but it helped to have someone hold on to her while she let it all out.

After a few minutes her scent began to sweeten again and he felt a soft kiss on his chest where his pectorals would be. “Thanks” was all she whispered.

“Hmph trouble maker” he teased “Always biting off more than you can chew.” he kissed the top of her head and a wave of relief washed over him when she finally smiled.

“Theres my girl” he smirked. “Now let Pennywise take care of those tears little one” he licked the salt off her face Leech sighed and giggled as his hands cupped her jaw his fingers teasing her sensitive ears. “Thats more like it.” he purred against her skin. He used his warm purrs to sooth her, his long arms locking her too him until he was sure the last of the sadness was gone from her. The clown hated seeing his mate upset like this especially the feeling of powerlessness that came with it. “My beautiful perfect mate. Penny loves you never forget it.” he whispered to her. Leech’s sweet smell flooded Pennywise’s nose, the bitter smell of sadness dissipating off of her replaced with love and adoration for him. “What would I do without you.” she sighed dreamily up at him. The clown gave her a cocky grin and kissed her softly. Penny pushed a hand up her shirt Leech winced when he touched a large fresh bruise on her side. He frowned at the new injury pulling her shirt off to inspect it. “I uh…I got kicked a little” she said sheepishly.  

“So many things for me to fix. Don't worry Pennywise will find them all and make it better.” he chuckled and attacked her neck, kissing and sucking the scratches as her blissful giggles echoed through out the frozen sewer.

It was a relatively slow beginning to her shift, Leech slung a wash rag over her shoulder and filled another glass from the tap sliding it down to a couple of truck drivers. She was sneaking glances over to them wondering if she should bring one to the back. They were running low on rib meat after all. The one that looked like a lumberjack seemed particularly tasty, muscular but slightly chubby, a good mix of the two. Just as she was going to make a move and talk to the group Chop Top sent Sandy over to them to charm one of them to the back. The wig wearing hippy looked at her and pointed at some dirty glasses by the sink. Sidelined for the pretty girl once again. She sighed ego taking a hit. Leech tossed her wash cloth to the side and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. “I’m taking my ten minutes” she growled eyes narrowing when Sandy went for the thinner leaner of the truckers instead of the chubby lumberjack. “Idiot theres not enough fat in the meat for a good marbling you cant just pick the most attractive one.” she grumbled as she passed Leatherface in the kitchen. The giant grunted while sharpening a butchers knife. “Stupid pretty bitch. Drayton just hired her because she has tits.”

“She also has hair and a pleasant personality princess”

Leech spun around to find the elder Sawyer brother glaring at her. “Heard you were starting some trouble yesterday. Wheres your wig girl?”

“I- I lost it.” she couldn't tell him she punched a customer in the face even though the bitches started it.

“Well find it so you can work girl. And hurry back! We got a few more in and you got a better eye for choice stock than Sandy! ”

Leatherface slammed the meat cleaver into the cutting board and glared at his brother

“Ah hell Bubba I’m just going off the facts. She's better at luring when she doesn't look diseased. I know your fond of the vampire but Sandy is better at bringing them in”

The giant huffed and continued chopping meat. Leech had paused at the door hearing the whole thing, some tears stung her eyes as she left the building. The vampire lit a cigarette and shakily let out a breath of smoke trying not to cry. She wasn't succeeding.

After crushing out the butt of her smoke and silently crying to herself for a few extra minutes she heard Chop Top bang on the door telling her to come back in. “GIVE ME A MINUTE” she yelled wiping her face and collecting herself. She pulled her beanie on tighter trying to hide her big ears and bald head.

Leech’s dead heart sank when she saw the three more werewolf sisters sitting at the bar. Fantastic. She walked over to the dirty glasses and grabbed her towel beginning to clean while trying to ignore the girls as long as possible.

“HEY BALDIE” well that was brief.

“Oh sorry didn't see you there…” she tried to be cheerful pretending yesterday didn't happen.

“Sandy said we get free drinks since were sisters! Start pouring bitch.”

Leech sighed deeply her ego getting beaten even more. “What’ll it be then”

“Mojitos!” they all laughed knowing it was a tedious drink to make. Leech sighed again. “And hurry up we’re thirsty!” the dark haired girl called out.

When she finally finished mixing the drinks she passed them down to the girls and turned back to her dishes. She wished she could disappear and go home.

“Barkeep!” she heard a man call behind her. Leech snarled ready to snap at him. She spun around in fury “WHAT?” she shouted but cut herself short when she saw the well dressed man dreamily looking at her over the counter “P-Pen?” she silently gasped. He flashed golden eyes and winked at her.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Came to get a drink” he smiled.

“Since when do you drink.” she leaned against the bar. “Your’e not going to pull anything are you?” she glared

“Me? Cause trouble?”

“I’m on thin ice already” she stepped back and pulled the towel off her shoulder.

“Then you better keep that temper in check firecracker.” he stared intently at her still puffy eyes and her nervous glances at the girls in the booth. “Well? Aren't you going to take my order dear?”

“Let me guess something overly sweet.”

“Whiskey”

She gave him a surprised look and Robert smirked. “The clown has the sweet tooth. I tend enjoy something a bit stronger. Top shelf, surprise me.” he grinned a slight blush crept on a vampires cheeks. “uh… oh um, let me- just I’ll Uh….I’ll get you some good shit” she turned around trying to hide her flustered face not realizing her audible swoon. Leech always had a weak spot for men who appreciated quality booze. Robert chuckled when he heard her.

“What was that?”

“What?”

“That noise you just made”

“I-I um it was nothing”

Robert sat back with a smug look on his face. He glanced over at the booth with the sorority werewolves who were staring at the exchange with jealousy. An even more smug grin grew on his face. He turned back to his bartender and snorted a bit when he saw her hopping up and down trying to reach the bottle on the top shelf while her other hand held her beanie onto her head. “Having trouble?” she spun around face dark in embarrassment. He found it adorable.

“I-I can get it sorry hold on! D-don’t laugh at me.”

Laughter came from the girls at the booth. Leech glanced over at them  awkwardly and winced a bit taking the emotional blow. She swallowed her pain and left to grab a stool. Gray snapped his head over to the women threatening growl rumbled in his chest. Leech finally grabbed the bottle and poured it into a glass sliding it over to him, he caught her hand and held on for a moment before letting her go in an attempt to bring her attention back to him. He wasn’t going to let these bitches steal their moment. Robert took a large gulp of the honey colored liquid and forced it down his throat one eye rolling up and out of alignment as he shook his head slightly. “Its good” he wheezed. Leech laughed. He wasn't actually a whiskey drinker at all.

“Do you even know what I gave you?” she teased.

“Scotch” he said trying to be confident

“That was bourbon”

“Well yeah I knew that just making sure you did.” he glared and pouted.

“You're supposed to sip it.” she chuckled grabbing a few mixers and bottles. “You don't have to do that to impress me Pen-Robert.” she tossed a bottle into the air catching it in her shaker. “Just having you here has been enough” she took his glass and finished his drink for him enjoying the rare treat of her favorite beverage. “Why are you here anyway be honest.” she said as she began making a new drink.

“Teaching some dogs a lesson.”

“You cant kill them Pen I'm on thin ice right now for just punching one after hours. You're gonna get me fired.”

“Fine, I can distract you though” he grinned and glanced over at the women glaring at them. For the first time that night Leech genuinely smiled. “See? Its working!” he winked at her. She poured the new drink out and added some frilly garnishes to it feeling warmth despite her skin being cold and dead. “Here you'll like this better. Its on the house as a um..thank you.” she slid the cold red drink into his large hand. He looked a bit ridiculous with the overly sweet frilly drink, sucking on a silly bendy straw but he seemed to like the taste much better than the hard liquor. “StrAwBerrIEs!” his goofy voice broke through and the vampire practically melted. Leech threw the towel over her shoulder with new confidence and went over to refill the truckers drinks “Its called a daiquiri!” she yelled back to him.

Robert grinned at her as her stood and straightened his coat. Back to business. He walked over to the table of werewolf girls. “Good evening ladies” he began.

“Well hey there handsome glad to see you were finally able to break away from that diseased looking freak and meet some real women.”

Robert's eye twitched and drifted out of alignment for a brief second.

“That’s actually what I came to talk about she's missing something, heard you lovely girls might know something about that”

“What are you her boyfriend or something?”

“And if I am?”

“Should have known you were the clown, the bloodsucker deserves it after what she did to our friend.”

“Yeah and for the other time she nearly killed Danielle!”

“Don't forget when she egged Janet’s car and lit our lawn on fire.”

“The bitch burned a Batman symbol into our grass.”

Robert looked over at his mate and rolled his eyes. He sighed sounds just like her.  “Do I look like I care what my mate does to lesser beings? You've hurt her and I will kill each and every one of you unless you give me back whats her’s.”

“You can’t do shit clown. Sandy says she’ll be fired if she causes one more fight.”

“Face it you lost, go crawl back into your sewer!”

Robert's eyes were absolutely demonic he looked over at his mate who was making small talk with the truckers and back at the werewolves. He huffed and made his way back to the bar slipping behind the counter to grab Leech. He  pulled her away and into his arms angry rumbles vibrating in his chest. “HEY! no customers behind the counter!” she scolded him. Robert growled and began pulling her toward the kitchen doors. “Alright your eyes are terrifying right now, what set you off?”

“How much do you need this job” he snarled.

“Do not!”

“They need to be taught Leech!”

“Pen, please for me.”

He shut his eyes tightly and frowned. “As soon as they leave then.”

“Theres no fighting you on this is there?” Leech rubbed her temples “Alright at least leave them alive”

“Can I break their limbs?”

“Fingers only”

“You're no fun”

“Go sit down. I take my dinner break in a few minutes we can discuss this more over a meal, I'm thinking large and meaty over there in the red”

Robert glanced over at the truckers

“You sure you'll be able to handle that by yourself?” he chuckled patting her theatrically on the head

“I-I’ll be fine”

“I’ll be watching little one”

She was able to work surprisingly quick spilling a drink on her target and apologizing profusely the large muscular man rose up and towered over the small vampire. She swallowed hard and grabbed a towel leading him to the “restroom”

“I’m so so sorry sir is there anything I can do to make up for this?” she begged and opened the door to the mens room for him. She glanced over at her beloved clown and winked licking her fangs with her tongue. He glared at her despite knowing that she was going to dispatch her prey as soon as the door shut behind them.

“Hmph not interested in you”

“Uh how about a free round of drinks after you clean up then?” she tried pushing him through the door.

“Why don't you get your little waitress friend to come over here and then well talk”

Leech's eye twitched. “FINE I will go and fetch the pretty one”

“Woah you got some real insecurities doll”

“You think?? Look at my fucking head I'm bald and diseased looking as shit! I'm terrible at this. I don't even know what my boyfriend sees in me because I suck at being what I am while he's like a god at it. I’m just an ugly nobody who cant do anything right!”

“Uh why are you telling me all this?”

“I don't know buddy I’ve just had a horrible past couple days bear with me here”

“Look lady I'm just gonna go….”

“Yeah…yeah ok whatever I don't care anymore”

Robert sighed getting up from his seat Leatherface had poked his head out of the kitchen when he heard the outburst and the disguised clown gave him a nod as he pushed his mate outside away from all the commotion.

“Rob what are yo-“

He silenced her quickly by holding her cheeks and kissing her. “You need to stop this”

“I’m fine”

“That was not fine” he glared at her “Remember what I told you Leech”

“I know, I know you, me, everyone else is dirt”

“Then why are you treating yourself like the dirt hmm?” his thumb wiped a small tear off her cheek.

“Cant help it”

“You're leaving work early today understand?”

“Pen I cant I'm already in trouble”

“No, get your stuff dear”

“There’s no fighting you is there”

He hugged her tight kissing her on top of her head “Nope!”

“Let me go in and tell everyone I'm not feeling well then so we can get out of here.”

“Don't keep me waiting gorgeous.” he grinned.

——

Leech went to grab her bag from under the bar convincing chop top to take over for her. Luckily he agreed that she needed a break since she’d been working hard to earn some extra cash for the holidays. The nosferatu began making her way out to the back exit when one of the girls stopped her pulling her towards the main entrance of the building.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Payback bitch.”

“For what you already beat me?”

“Like you actually learned your lesson fangs.”

“Look mutt you touch me again and I wont hesitate to defend myself.”

“Then do it what are you so scared of?”

“I…..I need this job ok” Leech pushed pass them and out the door trying to keep her temper in check. They were baiting her and she knew if she took it she’d just be humiliated and jobless. Sandy would say she struck first and it'd be all over.

“Coward” the werewolf spat. “Go home and cry to your circus freak baldy.”

Leech froze. “I am not a coward”

“Then prove it”

She spun around and her bones cracked and fingers dislocated morphing into claws as she flexed them she was prepared to beat someone to death with her fist if she had to. She charged with a snarl something grabbed her and yanked her back. Robert pushed her behind him.

“Call her that again and I’ll break every bone in your body.” he said still holding the frenzied vampire.

“LET ME TEAR HER THROAT OUT PLEASE PEN!” Leech screeched like a  possessed banshee her voice was distorted and demonic, the bones in her arms and shoulders cracked in and out of place. The disguised clown recognized the start of a uncontrolled frenzy and pulled her against him tight.

“We’ll be in touch” he snarled and they faded away into fog.

They reappeared in the middle of the street Leech broke out of his arms and charged forward screeching and eventually flat out roaring, nearly going into full monster form while slashing the air in frustration before falling to her knees. Her elongated twisted arms dropped to the side the razor sharp claws clacked against the pavement.

“You done?”

“Yeah. I'm done” she said silently half to herself. She felt Robert reach behind her and drag her up to her feet her bones cracked back into their normal place and size. “Are we feeling better?” he asked turning her in his arm so she could look at his face.

“A little….not really”

“Would you like to help me do something about that?” he grinned at her wickedly.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Why don't we cause some trouble hm?”

“Well..... that is my speciality.”

——————-

He dragged her into a drug store and grabbed a few cans of portable gasoline tossing one to Leech and grinning. She cocked an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“The lovely ladies in the corner told me all about the bat symbol in their lawn thought we’d give them a repeat performance”

“Ok one I was drunk and two…..I…. get the big can.”

They filled a few bags with supplies Robert made an illusion of them never even being there and they disappeared out the door.

They reappeared outside the werewolf sorority all dolled up with christmas decorations. The vampire grinned at the clown who had resumed his usual form and was holding out a carton of eggs to her. “You do the honors love” he giggled. Leech grabbed two eggs “Music.” she said and Penny snapped his fingers the radio on the car in the driveway sprung to life playing her the perfect song to ransack a house to. The guitar began trudging along Leech juggled the two eggs and as the Beastie Boys Sabotage began to yell through the speakers the vampire chucked them onto the windshield of the fancy BMW. They covered the entire car with eggs, colorful rolls of paper, pies, silly string and crude scratched in drawings. Leech crawled up onto the roof and rearranged the reindeer into an orgy scene and Penny painted a threatening message in floating blood on their garage door. He then proceeded to kill every plant in their garden save for the pine tree done up like christmas in the front yard. Leech had that one covered in the gasoline and below it fireworks.

She pulled out a lighter and lit a cigarette standing side by side with the clown. They both looked at each other and each pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Leech flicked the cigarette and they covered their ears together as it landed on a fuse that exploded fireworks onto the gas covered tree at the climax of the song. The vampire stood in front of the inferno with a look of delight on her face while the music ended. Penny tied a single balloon to their mailbox before turning to his mate twirling her around and bringing her close to him. He snapped his fingers again and new music began to play from the debauched convertible.

“I still wish you'd let me kill them but this will have to do” he growled and twirled her again pressing her back to his chest. He ran his hands down her torso and Leech surprised him by twirling away when he got too close.

“Well well well look who's been practicing!” the clown purred with delight pulling her back into position. The nosferatu kicked and snaked her leg around him reaching up and dragging her hand down his cheek. “I did say I was going to catch up to you” she smirked and pushed his face away.  They danced in the fire light and when they heard the scream from the house the two stopped and laughed.

“Close your eyes love” he said quietly. Leech obeyed and felt him press his lips to her’s she felt a tug and everything shifted, sounds were gone replaced by a familiar dripping noise and there was no longer the scent of burning pine in the air. The clown grabbed his mates backside possessively while he kissed her, slipping his gloved hand down her pants to squeeze the cool soft flesh. “Float with me” he growled into her mouth Leech opened her eyes expecting to be in his lair. Which she was, she just didn't expect to be hovering at the top of it. “PENNY WHAT THE FUCK” she grabbed the clown tightly. “Scared of heights love?” He chuckled

“N-NO I'm just um I’ve never floated before”

“Just relax darling i think you'll enjoy this. After all we all float down here its about time you tried it”

“Ok but you're not going to do that deadlight thing right?”

“Not if you're good” he giggled. Leech sighed and buried the side of her face against him.

“I know you don't like hugs and cuddles but I need it right now.” the vampire mumbled while she nuzzled him. The clown rolled his eyes at her and fell backwards, Leech gasped slightly and clung to his costume. He held her to him as he floated on his back “turn around” he whispered excitedly the vampire twisted in her clowns arms so her head rested on his chest gazing upward through the metal grate at the night sky. Clouds parted and a crescent moon lit up the lair the floating bodies danced around them like a carousel.

“I was there when all those were created” the clown began gesturing at the starry sky “Saw the whole thing. Never thought they were all that special.”

“Wow so you're both a literal and figurative cradle robber then” Leech laughed Pennywise glared down at her squeezing her tight and biting her ear. “I'm trying to be nice Leechie!” he growled.

“Ok, ok! Sorry continue”

“ *ahem* Anyway, I'm glad I finally found something special about it.”

The vampire twisted around and rested her elbows on his chest. Pennywise’s golden eyes were staring right at her. “Pen- do you really mean that?”

“Every word my dear.”

Leech hugged her clown tight around his neck a few tears escaped her eyes.

“You know I think I feel a lot better now” she whispered.

“Good.” Penny said he snaked his hands down and squeezed her butt a couple times glancing over at her to gauge her reaction. Leech giggled against him. “Pervert!”

“Cant resist its just so squishy!” he gave her a playful slap while cackling.

“Do it again~” Leech purred. The clown let out a lustful rumble and squeezed her hard. She grabbed his ruffled collar pulling him in for a hungry kiss and Pennywise was more than happy to oblige.

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

DAWWW he loves his spooky girlfriend. Also I love the idea of Robert trying really hard to be mysterious classy whiskey drinker guy but secretly hating it and preferring girly frilly drinks that are extra sweet. He’d totally get the chocolate mudslide with extra sprinkles, and way too much whipped cream  while still trying to look like a suave badass. Its ok Robbie you get what you like you precious bean.

[textsacc]

prompt: i write all these stupid love songs about you and then i tear them from my journal and hide them away in a box with your name on the lid. maybe one day you’ll hear them. (unsenttextsuggestion)

its cute how she thinks she can hide things from me, yozora thinks as she mulls over the contents of the box. there's a scatter of ripped paper around her on the floor as she rummages through more litter in the container. it's painted black and gold, with a crescent sticker stuck on its lid. her kashiwazaki overlord was never one to stand by marking things with subtly.

of course she would've noticed it. her eyes ran through words on scrap pieces. the prose -- it's cute. like, sickly sweet kind of cute. some of the words come off sharper and aggressive, but in them yozora can still see the tenderness, light and pure and radiant, just as similar to the owner of the notes herself. she snorts at one, trying not to notice her flushed complexion as she stuffs it back in the box. it wasnt the first time she'd seen them; sometimes she’d liken herself to visit them, when she needed a bit of self-love in the quiet and dreary afternoons, her ego stretched thin by her mind’s loathing behaviour. needless to say, this definitely wouldn't be her last, either. yozora had already found herself addicted to her companion’s love.

haste made for waste, yozora tells herself, collecting the scatter and putting them back where they’d belonged. she only had so much time before her secret admirer got back, after all. lovely, she imagines, unable to help herself from stopping the compliment slipping through as her friend's image naturally came to mind. box in two hands, a slide stores the blonde's secret collection away, tucked neatly in a shelf found underneath her bedroom’s window sill. yozora’s delicate work made it seem as untouched and unremoved as it originally appeared to be. now all she had to do was soothe her burning cheeks, and everything would return to normal.

*

it was almost unfair how sincere her lyrics were. each rip torn at the papers' seams were unexpectedly fortunate, the lines yozora would craft from shifting them around forming neatly, new poetry crafted from fragments of another. something told yozora that her instructions were premeditated, but her gut instinct told her otherwise; after all, sena would never be this careful, the bumbling beast.

stupid cute idiot, she thinks, revising her friend's script again. she would know where the pieces would go, if she tried to pay attention to them. ink bled through paper, and remnants remained on their edges, blotted and broken. but it was way more fun to piece the phrases together to create something dastardly new. when she found herself done, it would be like a cacophony of memories, of all the times sena went through the song writing process, coming up with words and dreams that yozora herself could never admit to sharing. a symphonious torture, yes, that was what it would become, and a mischievous warm smile made its way to her lips. she was only lucky that her carefulness had gotten her this far in the past -- now, though, as she copied the words one by one into her book, she would have all the time in the world to peruse them to her own delight.

*

to say that her plan made her face red was... an understatement, now, in another frame of mind. after running through her notes line by line, a project she’d tended to almost every evening by now, yozora was surprised she couldn't even look the blonde in the face anymore. shed always had a problem with eye contact, that much she found herself sure, but even the best of her tricks couldnt help her as she’d turn her eyes away, even from the vague sight of her friend.

"you're acting really weird lately," sena observes one night at dinner. yozora thinks its funny how she’s invited to eat with the family unlike their previous servants. sort of like a housewife. "is everything alright? you know you can tell me anything on your mind."

yozora refuses. it was much too personal for them and for her. "it's none of your business," and she bites her tongue before she could say 'meat', glancing carefully at her love’s father. pegasus was never fond of that nickname, even though she thought it suited her princess just fine. "--but thank you." of course, she had to observe her manners. "i appreciate the offer."

a useless whimper, the girl puffing up her cheeks in retaliation. yozora fought the urge to smile.

*

the most recent entry, the most recent scatter of paper. she couldnt seriously have wrote that, could she? yozora could hardly believe it.

earlier, she'd made the mistake of matching them as the author had intended, before mixing them into pile. and just entertaining the possibility of those four lines, intent after another, was enough to send her under the covers even hours later, when her eyes weren't focused on pieces ahead of her. so brash, so unrestrained. wanting. yearning. how bashful it reduced her to, as her mind hummed over the words again, a repetitive melody she couldn't simply get rid of. she was only lucky sena rested upstairs and fell asleep early before she could be bothered to hunt for the servant today, as yozora holed herself up in her own little room. she needed isolation, she decides, foreseeing herself blushing red again, with equal intensity in the future. 

if she was to continue her own project like this, she had to ensure more moments of privacy for herself.

*

no knocks, just the door opening. yozora counts her lucky stars (just one, and she was right in front of her) that she hadn't been singing just yet, merely playing a few chords. "i’m here to listen," sena announces, a cheeky smile on her face (too cute). her butler shifts her eyes away from the room's entrance, but scooches closer to the wall; a mistake, as it gives her friend some space on the bed to sit on.

"what're you playing?"

"nothing of importance," yozora shrugs off, not meeting sena's gaze, pretending to retune her instrument. she wondered if the girl would buy into her lie, turning the knob only slightly in her fib. but it didn't seem that way when she’d given her pet a good glance, the star’s brilliant beam shining back in her face.

yozora swallows a breath, looking up. "don't you have some studying to do? a game to get back to?"

"studying?"

the servant notices her momentary slip up, and for a moment yozora debates keeping herself still like a frightened animal. instead, she rolls her eyes, and that gets their conversation to pass over the mistake.

"ah, but the new title that came out earlier today--"

good. sena's attention had been grabbed. "it was just way shorter than i thought it was going to be! what a let down. and they didn't even include a cg for cecilia, but they put in two more for lisa?!"

the princess huffs and folds her arms. for a moment, yozora wondered how lovely it would be to pull her in close for comfort.

"oh no," she replied, resting on her guitar, words dripping with sarcasm. "its not like cecilia's the main character, or that she hasn’t been in any other title before or anything, thus having more screen time than any other character in the series." a miracle, it was, that she remembered the series elements at all.

"are you kidding me?"

her friend's eyes come alive with untold fury. yozora secretly wanted more. 

"that should give them more reason to put more scenes with her in it! being in several games shows exactly how much we the fans like her!" by the sheets, sena pulls her fingers into a fist. "those cowards! i’d already gone to their forums and gave them a piece of my mind, though!"

"and so you're here to bother me instead?"

so long as she herself was being cold, the servant figured, it would be in due time before her mistress would leave her undisturbed.

"of course! i wouldn't want to miss what my best friend was up to these days!"

ugh. best friend.

"sorry, i dont know who that is," yozora mocks, wrist flapped off-handedly. "maybe you should check another room, for once. you'll find someone there."

"that's so mean!" (the telltale pout from sena. what a look.) "why cant you just take the compliment i give you?"

"compliment?"

her sideways glance appears more sly and dark than she'd wanted it, but the facade was entirely calculated; so yozora wouldn't be caught under scrutiny blushing like a lovestruck schoolgirl. that sinister aura was to mask her fluster. "you talk like its a privilege to be your friend."

"it is one!"

"more like a burden. come see me after you've grown up enough to take care of yourself."

of course, her servitude had always been a sore spot for sena, on the account that she wouldn't be seen as independent enough in the household. no, she didn't need to be to begin with, but now there was a reason for the star to hold some guilt. because it was yozora behind those duties now.

"i can do it just fine, thank you very much."

"you say that but you sure aren't showing it, meat," the butler remarks with a straightened back, fingers flicking at her guitar's strings. a strum. "try that again when you've found something else to do."

it turns out to be enough.

with a "hmph" and a toss of her hair (a soft wave of starlight, so pretty) sena gets off the bed and leaves.

wonderful. it would've been a perfect exit, except she forgot to close the door behind her.

again.

not that yozora minded getting up and chasing her beloved’s footsteps to shut it.

*

so, that song. that rearranged poem of scraps abandoned and hidden and lost.

well.

singing it had proved almost too tough to bear.

no matter how yozora found herself rearranging the letters, folding her notes' pages in half in an attempted rewrite, the thought of her unlikely confession had always bubbled up in a swarm up in her chest, bursting painfully against her lungs. and in those moments of frustration, she'd wanted to scream to the world in one chorus of finality, a head-spinning moment where she'd forget all her admirer's intentions behind it, just so she could put her emotions past herself, and wave off the project for having completed it so.

she couldn't, of course, without actually performing the piece live in front of her. a recording would be too insincere, and living through those seconds again in an editor was a nightmare that yozora had opted to spare herself from. it had to be done live, she persuaded herself, even after rational convincing just prior minutes before. at any moment now, her mistress would--

--footsteps trailed towards the entrance. then, the door swung open.

the concert hall was but sena's bedroom, and the guitarist had been unprepared to perform for an audience of just one. of course, changed out from her butler's outfit, the blonde did wonder what her best friend, off-duty, was doing in her room.

"yozora? what--"

the fingers the girl had on her strings were slow in shifting, underlining the tautness within its player.

"i-i was getting ready for something," yozora replies, finally turning around to greet her listener with a reddened face. there was no way for the star to have missed the guitar in her hands, cradled in a comforting hold in the girl's arms, and her digits never leaves its surface when she gestures towards the corridor using a shift of her head. "close the door behind you. i-it's not like this was meant for anybody else..."

in absolute curiosity and confusion, sena complied.

there had been a small space in her mistress' bedroom where a beanbag had been set aside. and though yozora often frequented it during her short breaks or moments of respite with her friend, so too would sena take advantage of its cushion just once, the duo shifting from the center of the room over to an open corner.

"o-okay, so what's this about...?"

"w-well, i..."

it was in a stammer that the vocalist lost her words. and in duress, she defaulted to some lines familiar, lines that would put her back into gear with the delivery of her performance.

after all, she couldn't afford to be worried about her lyrics, stolen as they were sorted through. not now.

"s-shut up and listen."

a gentle chord. fumbling of fingers on nylon, and a pacing of steps against the carpet, on the spot.

with one short breath, yozora parts her lips and allows the melody to flow through her, keeping her gaze shortsighted. vision blurred, the world spinning; it was how she imagined the leak of her emotions to feel, the room growing warmer with each sway of her torso, each swing of her head to one corner, then the next. her heart and her tempo were racing in unequal measures, the girl drawing out each line, keeping in mind to uphold the adagio of a ballad. 

and all the while, she didn’t have to wonder if she was the only one burning up in embarassment. body language was all the performer needed to read with her star kept within sight; raised cheeks, lips hidden behind a fold of her palm, each major fidget was enough of a signal to yozora that, at the very least, her audience was captivated.

for those few minutes, the girl decides, that was all she had to be.

she doesn’t trip up on her lines as she once expected from herself. there’s something in her performance she falls back upon, hours of practice culminated in a single moment, supporting each harmonious line, every tremble of her chords in her throat as she forces notes through second by second. it gets easier the further she performs, and the moon finds herself smiling after a minute, somehow registering the majesty of her craft while she’s delivering it to its intended receipient. it’s cute. like, a sickly sweet kind of cute. her love nearly overflows as she churns out the lyrics, slow, smooth and simple, bubbles of joy tucked away at the back of her mouth, near threatening to rise and take over her words as giggles had she chosen to stop. that realization of how silly, how foolish, how honest and vulnerable her song and dance was making her-- it could’ve swallowed her up whole in midst of her performance.

but yozora is made of tougher material, and with a gentle tap and piviot of her feet upon wool, she stops, with one final hum and a prayer for her success behind closed eyes. there’s nothing but the sound of her guitar strings reverberating in the air for a few seconds; it’s only when the wait for a response gets too much to bear that the girl opens her eyes, to finally put sena into focus, sena, right, the love she was confessing to, the one she couldn’t pay attention to this whole time--

the world stops for a moment when their eyes meet, faces awash with crimson and heat. neither of them move, still as statues save for a couple of blinks. yozora is out of words -- she’d already used all of them in the song, eaten up every other resource of her brain to keep herself functioning in that heart-pounding, adrenaline-rushed moment -- and her grip relaxing on her instrument is a beckon for her other to say something, something.

her response comes in a lean backwards, into the bean bag, bloating it up to hold her when yozora can’t. there is a mix of fear, shock, joy and anger all at once in those eyes, eyes that the girl can’t help but continue looking into, despite the fact that she’d wanted so desperately to look away in that moment, just as she often did in most others. the words take sena another moment to form, and they trickle out as a whisper, “when... when did you find them?”

and the guitarist didn’t need to be asked twice about the star’s secret stash. “i’ve known of it for a while,” she replies, finally tearing her eyes off her admirer. there’s something lodged in her throat as she continues to speak, yozora trying not to stutter over her words. “h-honestly, you should try to hide that box better. it was easy to find it while i was cleaning up your room, you know?”

“the-- the curtains should’ve hid it...” 

a low murmur, one that yozora barely catches. when sena rises, takes a few step to draw close to her servant, that drum beat grows louder in the performer’s ears. she spots a wavering frown from the blonde and a burning visage to match. delicate fingers, fragile and soft rest on the woodwork of the guitar, and they nearly meet yozora’s tight grips. she fights to steady her breathing, just as she sees her star struggling to justify her sudden approach.

“a-anyway, y-you sung them all wrong...! i-i honestly don’t know how you managed to jumble them up so bad, a-and the melody’s completely off-- the line delivery and everything--”

there was a part of yozora that had wanted to argue back, mention the amount of effort that she’d spent piecing together the broken puzzle pieces, solving a jigsaw that didn’t need to be solved. and on most days, in most circumstances, she would’ve opted for such a retort. but the graze of skin against her own and the trembles, the quaking from her mistress -- was sena offering to deliver the songs in their most primal nature, as she had originally intended? 

that clamouring for her guitar seemed to be telling. it’s nearly violent the way yozora thrusts the part of entertainer onto her confessed, restraint audible from the way she hisses out her challenge, trying not to trip on language, “t-then you show me, i-if you want to pick at my creative genius that much.”

“m-mm,” sena responds, taking the instrument in tow, agitation simmering down to a quiet. “j-just watch.”

yozora shifts, retreats, almost hastens her steps as she makes her way to the throne of the audience. and sena checks the scale on the instrument, humming anxiously and pacing on the spot --

the moon wonders, after taking her seat, if that had been exactly how she’d looked just a few moments ago. she contemplates this while avoiding bringing to light that memory itself, leaning forward, watching her other prepare herself.

she doesn’t have expectations, didn’t come in with any the moment she stepped into the room. but listening to her star’s opening lines, it was difficult to say that yozora had been entranced by the confession. sure, a poet her mistress might’ve been, pen marked on paper, but when vocalized paired with a shaken melody, something felt off about the performance. in a way that was telling it needed refinement. in the same way her mistress had always been raw, pure, unabashedly passionate.

it takes the girl everything just to stop herself from laughing, realizing the truth of that adorable personality shining through against all things.

the way her angel, too, had opted to block out the world with a shut of her eyelids. static movements where yozora herself had gone with the flow, felt free -- no doubt lived in her head that it was like watching an amateur’s performance right before their debut, but even then she couldn’t fault her star for her unbridledness. it had been in the spur of the moment that she decided to forge an act together, after all. and line by line, yozora starts to put the pieces together once again, in a different order this time, each keynote with its phrase once disassembled now under reorganization in her memory as she listens. against her fingertips, she feels it, the soft texture of ripped edges worn from handling. a smile graces her face as she tunes in.

though her amusement had subsided, her embarassment -- and heartwarmth -- had not.

only when the last of the songs were complete did it strike yozora as odd, how they practically traded confessions and left themselves devoid of proper confirmation, of responses. it was enough for her expression to wry, eyes trying to match her near-lover’s own if only to convey this perplexity in the moment. when sena finally resumes her sights, yozora makes deer caught in headlights out of her.

“m-meat...”

“w-wh-what is it? j-just so you know, i-i’m not performing them again...”

the star might as well have been the sun by now, glowing so bright with feelings said -- yet bond unconfirmed. she breaks their matching gazes, throwing her own to the side, clutching the guitar with noticable effort in her embarassment. it almost brings yozora to smile again, as she rises, pacing forward; that instrument was hers, and she was to collect it, but she had something else she’d wanted to see if she could retrieve in that moment.

footsteps slow to a shuffle. folded arms. her heated visage was only reflecting her centerfold. 

“y-your delivery could use some work, in my opinion.”

“h-huh?”

“b-but more importantly,” yozora hurries, and puts her hands on sena’s, if only to stop the rebuttals she knows would follow had she hesitated. their traded fevers only worked to dizzy the girl moreso than she already felt faint, the servant taking steady breaths in lieu of her mistress’ fraying composure. “-- t-that just means...”

“-- ...”

“...”

though a silence persisted between them, it was past a few seconds that sena nods, pulling her gaze up from the carpet. a hum. 

“y-yeah. i... i love you too, yozora.”

now it’s the moon’s turn to tremble, finally falling, humbled by her beloved careful and precious words.

“... i-- i love you too. ...meat.”

[jamesholden]

fading bruises

So... hey. I've been working on this beast for... over a year now. Since before S2 even aired. Originally I was going to write this fluffy piece for @whenimaunicorn​ between Holden and Amos, where Amos helps him with a mundane task. But when the OT3 ideas entered the mix, it evolved into the beast it is today. Obviously, the ship descriptions in the earlier half of the fic, as well as some noted events, may not line up exactly, since I didn't know where S2 was going. But I think the majority of it still holds up. For the preceding fics in our OT3 series, check out Rachel’s “Join Us”, and the first three parts of “in a lovely constellation”. They’re not necessary, but it might be confusing otherwise.

Please review on ao3 if you can, and thanks for checking this out! Enjoy!

Being free of the medbay is the best gift Holden has been given in years. Sure, his legs are shaky as he makes his way down the ladder, mag boots engaged (just to prove he’s on the mend). Naomi wants him to keep resting before they hit Tycho. He appreciates the thought. The thought of the thought makes him feel warm and almost tingly. Reassures him that things are getting better. But he needs to move. He needs to be alone for just five minutes.

He needs to feel like his world hasn’t changed on levels he’d never expected. Again.

Part of him—most of him—wants to swing into the galley. Make a cup of coffee. Naomi wouldn’t let him, and wouldn’t bring him any. A cruel, vicious woman. The rational part of him, which somehow survived Eros intact, tells him to shower, clean up, wash the grime of sweat, blood, death, and worse off his skin. To make himself feel human again.

Shit.

He pauses. Squeezes his eyes shut. Steadies his legs and his stomach and the tremors threatening to run through him as they have since he’d started healing. He wants to banish any thought of Eros from his mind for the rest of his—likely shortened by radiation exposure—life. They’d never be human again. Whatever they are. Holden takes a few shaky breaths before pushing himself on. He’s almost at the head anyway.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glaring lights once they sense his presence in the room. A deep ache grows in his skull. He just holds still by the door until the pain mostly passes and the light is less harsh. The head is meant to accommodate quite a few more crew members then the Roci’s four plus one. Six shower stalls and a bench take up the length of one wall. Two toilet stalls and three urinals take another. Four sinks and a long mirror take up the final wall not broken by the door. It's the nicest facility he's been in in his short careers as a UN naval lieutenant and third-officer on an ice hauler. Thank God for Mars and their fancy high-tech tendencies.

He crosses the room, stripping off the disposable jumpsuit he'd donned for his escape and weakly tossing it onto the bench. He couldn't wait to have real clothes back. Naomi thought it better for him to sweat in something that wasn't his, and he had the good sense to agree with her. He could burn this later. He could wear some Martian’s clothes until they hit Tycho. Or something. He wonders if his shirt and jumpsuit had been salvageable. He steps into the center stall and turns the water on as hot as he can stand.

Holden groans as the scalding water seeps heat into his muscles. It's the best thing he's felt in days. Helps him forget Eros for a second. Helps him forget Eros and the Anubis and… And the ache of the separation between him and two particular members of the crew. Naomi. Amos. He rests his head against the bulkhead and lets water stream over his shoulders and down his back.

His clash with Amos had ruined everything. It went back further than that, and he knows it. But he can't help but bear the brunt of the blame. He'd logged the call. Naomi kept his secret. He’d revealed his role in the Cant’s destruction and Naomi revealed she’d not told Alex and Amos to protect him. Holden nearly killed Amos for threatening to kill the Martians. Amos pulled away from both of them. “You were scared of me”, he'd said to Naomi. Holden certainly was. The thought stung.

Holden had been fairly certain whatever thing they had going was over. That stung worse.

Naomi told him she couldn't in good conscience keep on with him. Not if she wasn't also with Amos. She couldn't take sides like that. She couldn't let Amos think she'd taken their newest addition’s side over his. Holden understood, of course. Once the initial stabbing pain in his heart passed. But in the days since, he'd felt a heavy weight on his chest when he looked at her or thought about her. A similar yet still unique weight settled on him with Amos. Sometimes he saw her trying to reconnect with him. Sometimes it looked like it was working. That made the weight heavier. If they reconciled, would there still be a place for him? She'd laughed with him, teased him and joked with him. Still, it felt like less effort was being put into maintaining their connection. Something was missing from their conversations. When he could get her to have one with him.

He didn't blame her, really. It had been her and Amos before her, Amos, and him. That didn’t reassure him or stop his breath from coming out short at the thought. That and… seeing them kiss again when they thought he wasn’t there didn’t help. The weight creeps in and he rubs hard at his weary eyes to distract himself.

The soap and shampoo are standard-issue MCRN. The crisp, fresh scent is nearly the same as what the UN Navy used. It takes him back years. Back when he was a fresh faced kid from Montana, guilty for leaving his family and the farm but so happy to be free of the weight they both came with. He loses himself in the memory. A younger, happier James Holden showers in an older ship with different crew. He doesn't know what it will be like to throw his career away. What it will be like to bear the weight of the destruction of two ships. What it will be like to feel himself falling into something good and destroying it all in such a short period of time. Holden envies the kid.

Though he must admit, as he massages shampoo into his greasy hair, that maybe hope isn't lost. He'd told Naomi to leave him behind. To give him three hours to follow Miller to the truth on Eros and to leave if he didn't show. She hadn’t. According to Alex, she’d insisted on waiting for him. She hadn’t wanted to leave him behind. “All those bullets flying” and she’d waited. It’s a better feeling than he’d had when he’d thought she’d listened to him and saved Amos and Alex. But that could have been anything. A promise kept, a kindness returned. A debt repaid. It was what she did after that really comforts him now.

Naomi had taken care of him. Not just in the sense that she'd guided him to the medbay, hooked him up to the top of the line machines, took his vitals and adjusted in kind. No, she'd taken care of him. Sat by his side as he'd drifted in and out of sleep, attended to every need without a word between them, talked to him about whatever came to his drug-addled mind. He thinks he dreamed her fingers twining with his on more than one occasion. Warm lips against his forehead as a hand smoothed over his hair. There's still something there. There's still a chance. Maybe she still wants him.

But Amos…

Amos hadn’t been in to see him at all. Holden had barely seen the man since he returned to the Roci. He'd gone right to work on Miller as Holden waited for Naomi to return. They spoke in low voices he couldn't pick up, and as far as he knew, Amos hadn't even spared him another glance. He only breezed through the medbay to check in with Naomi. Holden punches the button on the soap dispenser several times until the stuff fills the palm of his hand. He scrubs vigorously at his skin. He shouldn't take it so personally. Amos had been open about his emotional capacity. Or virtual lack thereof. Still. The opposite reactions from both of his former lovers throws him through a loop he can't get out of.

The emotional highs and lows are too much for him to handle when he's so tired.

Holden rubs absently at his chest, but the ache doesn’t fade. Not all the way. He stands under the water a few moments longer. Enjoys it in place of the warmth he’s missed and craved. He shuts it off before it can shut off on him. The chill on his wet skin wakes him up enough for now. Maybe he can forego the coffee. He turns, ready to step out and grab a towel.

Amos stands just outside the stall, expression torn between amused, aroused, and no emotion at all. Holden yelps, slips back against the bulkhead. The amusement vanishes from the other man’s face.

“Relax, Holden,” Amos mutters, stepping closer and reaching out. “It’s just me.”

Holden sputters, trying to catch his breath and calm his heart. “Jesus, Amos. Make a sound next time.” He breathes for a moment. Ignores his moderate embarrassment at being naked in front of Amos. Even if they hadn’t been lovers, they’d shared shower space before. This time, Holden is at a complete disadvantage. He squints at Amos, studying him. “What are you doing here?”

“Naomi was worried about you being on your own, told me you needed fresh clothes.” Amos shrugs. A grin appears on his lips, and Holden has to suppress less innocent thoughts than being glad Amos isn't just scowling or staring at him. “Besides, thought I should check on you. Shouldn't fight like hell to get back here just to die slipping in the shower.”

Can’t argue with that logic, Holden muses as he blinks at Amos. Still, it would have been nice to share a moment that didn’t involve him being naked, cowering in the shower. He knows any hope of a truly emotional, meaningful moment may be fruitless, but actual words between them would have been… preferable to this. Amos drops the clothes on a nearby bench and reaches for a towel to toss him. Holden manages to catch the soft terry in one hand, scrambling to cover himself and regain some of his composure.

Holden expects more quips from Amos. He expects flirtation and innuendo. He's naked for Christ’s sake. But when he turns back to face Amos, towel wrapped securely around his waist, Amos says nothing. He watches Holden with that steady, emotionless gaze. Like he's studying Holden's recovering body. It makes Holden shy. He'd been less than confident the first time he'd been naked with Amos, caught between him and Naomi. Still, he's even less confident now. What does Amos see?  

“So,” Holden starts, passing Amos to shuffle to the mirror. “Naomi sent you?”

“Not exactly. I was already coming down when she said something about you.”

“Okay.” Holden grimaces at his reflection. The man staring back at him is too pale. His dark hair, eyebrows, and beard stand out against his too-white skin. Purple shadows beneath his eyes betray a bone-deep exhaustion. His mouth is set in a firm line. And his eyes…

They’re cloudy with emotions he doesn't want to admit to.

He pulls the electric razor out of it’s holster on the wall. “I only ask since I haven’t really seen you since we hauled ass off Eros.”

“Had things to do. We’ve been a man down since then. Two, if you count Naomi. With all the time she spent looking after you and… Miller.”

Holden glances at Amos through the mirror. Amos meets his gaze, but they both know he couldn’t quite hide that slip. Something’s wrong there. But Amos’ stance, his chin tilted up in a challenge, keeps Holden from asking. He looks away again, fiddling with the razor. When will any of these people trust him? Getting any details at all out of them reminds him of shepherding with his fathers. Just when you think you’re getting somewhere, you turn around and see you still have most of the sheep in the fields. He feels that more and more with Amos and Naomi every day.

Focusing hard on his own face, Holden studies the ragged beard along his jaw. Amos’ presence presses against his shoulder blades, threatens to push him over the sink. His face heats at the thought. With luck, the harsh light will keep Amos from noticing his change in color. He tilts his head down, rinses his hand off under the automated sink. That’s when the shaking starts again.

Holden’s caught himself shaking a few times, riding out tremors that range from a minor annoyance to a complete impairment of his fine motor functions. Naomi had explained it may happen, and had been kind and patient enough to help him through the worst of them. Even if they’d both been shy about her helping him eat. The spells have become less frequent as he's healed. But of course one starts when he finally gets a chance to shave.

Clenching his fists against the solid steel counter, Holden lowers his head and closes his eyes. Breathes. He prays for the shaking to subside. The edges of the razor dig into his palm. He hears it creak, a distressing sound he can feel in his own bones. Stop. Please stop. Not now. Not in front of Amos. Holden’s spent all this time, since the Knight—no, no, since the second he’d joined the Cant—feigning strength. Like an actor playing a better version of himself. For the small crew. For himself. There’s nothing to hide behind now. How can he act strong if he can’t even be strong? In front of the one person he has to? “Hey, Holden.” He starts, twisting to see Amos right over his shoulder. His face is blank, betraying none of his thoughts. It doesn’t quite match Amos’ almost… gentle tone. He gazes into Amos’ steely blue eyes, heat rising in his cheeks again. The intensity of this simple action, of staring back at a man whose touch he’s craved, whose attention he’s sought for weeks, hits him like a punch in the gut. So fixated on having what he’s wanted is Holden, that he doesn’t notice Amos holding his hand out. “What?” Holden could wince at how dreamy the word comes out. Amos doesn’t even blink. “Give me the razor.” “Why?” “Just do it.” If he had been anyone else, Amos might have sighed. But he doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve like Holden does. He doesn’t let any of his thoughts show. Holden does what he asks, struggling to loosen his shaking fingers from around the device. Amos doesn’t show any sign of annoyance or frustration. Holden considers it a blessing. Scratching his jaw with his free hand, Amos gestures to the bench with the razor. Though still skeptical of Amos’ plans, Holden crosses back to the bulkhead. It takes all his concentration to do so without losing his balance. He drops down onto the bench, ignoring the groan it emits to watch Amos at the sinks. He follows Holden moments later, razor and damp towel in hand. Holden drops his head back against the wall as he gets closer. It’s always interesting to be looking up at Amos. Whether from his knees or from a seat. It changes the dynamic in the basest of ways. Holden is taller, the de facto leader, a man of staunch beliefs. Amos is shorter but broader, follows Naomi more than him, and keeps everything to himself. Being physically beneath Amos feels like submission. And exposing his throat to a man who’s said he could kill him without a second glance takes it to the next level. It’s an arousing thought. He’ll save it for later.

Amos drops the towel on Holden’s shoulder. It’s damp and warm and Holden lets himself relax back into the bulkhead. Thick, rough fingers slide under his chin and tip his head up. Holden watches Amos take in the line of his jaw. Like he’s never seen it before. Like his lips and teeth have never traversed it. The knot in his chest tightens. He hadn’t considered how much he had missed this Amos. The one that bounced between him and Naomi like a kid with too many toys and no way to choose one. Being chosen, even for this, warms his chest. The knot stays.

The razor hums to life in Amos’ other hand. At the first touch of the blades to his skin, Holden’s eyelids flutter. He fights the urge to close them. He won’t give up this chance to be present with Amos. Not after all this time and his near death between them. So he watches Amos. Gazes up at his barely-furrowed brow. Takes in his focused eyes and set mouth. Amos doesn’t look at him. Just works, shifting Holden’s head this way and that to get every angle.

Holden shivers as Amos tips his head back, exposes his throat and drags the razor up to his chin. Amos pauses. Their eyes finally meet. The razor buzzes along between them, white noise for the moment. Holden wonders what Amos sees in his eyes. Holden can only see some brand of thoughtfulness. Maybe. But then Amos looks away and the moment is gone. He switches hands and gets back to work.

It doesn’t take long for Amos to finish. He tilts Holden’s face this way and that, looking for any missed spots. They wouldn’t be hard to find on Holden’s sickly-white skin. He nods to himself, and the razor clicks off. The silence between them weighs on his chest more than Amos’ absence had. He’s here. He’s right in front of Holden. Yet he still feels a hundred klicks away. There has to be something he can do to close the distance. To bring Amos back to him. To try and fix what he’d broken. With a quick hum, Amos turns away, drops the towel into a bin.

And Holden takes a leap.

“I missed you.”

Amos pauses. He doesn’t freeze, or whirl around. None of the usual—likely considered dramatic—reactions Holden might have, in the same position. But he knew that already. Amos isn’t like most men. He sighs, scratches his jaw. When he turns to face Holden again he looks thoughtful.

“Since Eros,” he starts, face still a blank slate. “Or since the Mickeys almost boarded us?”

Holden takes a breath. “The Martians.”

Amos doesn’t show any sign of shock. He nods. Rubs his hands together. Holden clenches his jaw. What he wouldn’t give to know what thoughts are running through Amos’s mind. What he thinks of Holden’s confession. The radiation had failed to give him superpowers. Holden stands on shaking legs. He can’t do this sitting down.

Amos’s eyes follow his movement, trained on his face. “Really?”

Holden’s face heats up. He forces himself to keep eye contact with Amos. “Yeah. Since it all went to shit.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Holden swallows. “What is?”

“Well,” Amos starts, stepping in close again and keeping his voice level. “Figured after that disagreement we had that you’d want to end it with us.”

“What?”

“You’ve got strong beliefs. Makes it feel like you’ll push away people who disagree.” Amos breathes another sigh. Holden isn’t sure what emotion is behind it. If there is emotion behind it. “We disagreed. You had a gun to my head. Fun’s over.”

Holden blinks, thinks over Amos’ words. What he’s saying. What he’s implying. Holden always thought it was more of a… mutual decision. That Amos would have easily backed away from him after… Holden shudders. “Naomi was right to be afraid of you.” It hits him like a sucker punch. Amos is right. It was all him.

“Anyway,” Amos continues, either ignoring or not noticing Holden’s epiphany. “You still had Naomi. You two got along better than we did. Thought you’d be good without me.”

Holden clears his throat. His chest is too tight. “I wasn’t.”

“What?” Finally, Amos shows something. His brows draw together and his head tilts to the side.

“Naomi and I.” Holden bites the inside of his cheek. “She ended things with me. On Tycho.”

A fresh wave of pain tightens the knot in his chest. He blinks and looks away. He’s tried to forget that night. His confession to her and her breaking things off with him. Leaving him alone at the table. Because she’d lied for him and she couldn’t choose between him and Amos. She couldn't choose him. It had all been his fault.

Holden looks up again to find Amos watching him. Some version of confused and surprised plays out on his face. “She didn’t say anything. I thought you two were good.”

“No.” Holden shakes his head. “It’s all a big mess.”

Amos nods, the emotions fading from his face once again. “So… when you say you missed me. You mean me and Naomi, then?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I just—” Holden sighs, rubs his eyes. What is the easiest way to say this? Holden’s never been in a situation like this. Even having polyamorous parents doesn’t prepare a man for communication with one of two partners. When all he’s known is how much he’s missed Naomi, and he knows he can talk to Naomi. He’s always had to show Amos how he—

He sucks in a breath. Inspiration. Don’t tell. Show. Before Holden can talk himself out of it, he grabs Amos by the jumpsuit and pulls him close. He can feel his strength wavering, but he manages to hold onto him as he kisses him hard enough to feel their teeth hit. Amos makes some sound in the back of his throat—Holden can’t decipher it—and after a few beats grips at Holden’s towel. He deepens the kiss, heart rate jumping at the idea of Amos just pulling the towel loose. A tiny part of him yearns to be reacquainted with Amos right here.

And then Amos pulls out of the kiss, uses his hands on Holden’s hips to push him away. It’s not a forceful push—no, almost gentle—but Holden feels it as if he’d been shoved in the chest. Heat rises in his cheeks again. He isn’t sure if it’s more from lust or embarrassment. He takes a shuddering breath.

“I missed you.”

He opens his eyes, hoping to see something, anything in Amos’ face that shows that he wants this as badly as Holden does.

Only to find the man giving him a tight grin. “Jesus, Cap. Save it for when you’re back to a hundred. Shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.” Amos taps the palm of his hand to Holden’s cheek twice.

Holden sputters. “But… that’s not what I—”

“I have to get back to work. Alex is probably looking for me.” With one last slap to the shoulder, Amos pivots and strides out of the head, leaving Holden cold and alone.

Holden stares at the door long after Amos leaves. He stays in the same spot, shivering, until his legs can’t hold him any longer. He sits back on the bench with a groan, letting his head hit the bulkhead with a little more force than before. “Stupid.”

He closes his eyes. Breathes slow to calm his mind—and body. His eyes itch and he clenches them tighter. It’s all a mess. And it’s all his mess. He goes over the past months, every choice and every word, looking for where he could have stopped himself. Kept his mouth shut or said something different or did something different. But he couldn’t have. He can’t be anyone different. He shudders.

The door slides open again, boots scuffing against the decking as someone else enters the head. Holden sighs. “Amos isn’t here, Alex.” His voice comes out rougher and more exhausted than he thought it might. Can he hide behind his injuries or is it obvious it’s something else?

“It’s me, Ji—... Holden.”

Holden’s eyes open and his tilts his head up to see not his pilot, but the other lover that had been on his mind. Former lover. Naomi. She looks as beautiful as the day he first noticed how beautiful she was. There’s a gnawing in his gut. She grins at him, a small, tight grin like Amos’. She wrings her hands together, shifts her gaze to look at anything but him. The knot in his chest stays firmly in place. He tries not to show it and gives her a tiny grin of his own.

“Hey.”

Naomi takes a deep breath. Like she’s preparing to say something. She shakes her head instead. “Amos said you needed some help.”

Holden blinks, his eyebrows drawing together. He’s not sure if he can take this emotional whiplash from the both of them. He feels vulnerable. Exposed. Not just because he’s naked save for his towel. But he doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He hums.

“Did he?”

Naomi hesitates again. “Yeah. Just… thought you weren’t… doing as well as you said.”

“That’s…” Holden finds himself at a loss. Amos grabbed Naomi? For what? If Holden needed help getting dressed, he’d have called for someone himself. It’s not like he has anything to hide from Naomi anymore. And his dignity has never meant much to him. Naomi had spent so much time avoiding alone time with him before Eros. Avoiding any opportunity for him to try and talk to her about more personal matters.

So… why now?

“That’s very... thoughtful of him,” Holden concludes lamely. There had been a time he could just talk to Naomi, about anything and everything. Curled up in his cabin or hers, wrapped up in a tiny world that only reached as far as the door. Now he dances around the conversation, trying not to say anything that could make her uncomfortable. Worlds apart. He sighs. “I’ll be fine. Just need my legs to stop shaking.”

Naomi takes a breath. “I don’t think he meant your… physical recovery. Jim.”

Holden’s gaze snaps back to her face. Her lip is caught between her teeth. She hasn’t called him by his name since… before Opal. Before she’d ended things with him. Before he fucked it all up. He swallows. “Then what?” He’s almost afraid of her answer. He doesn’t know why. If it’s because it’s her, or if it’s the topic. “What did he mean?”

“Us, Jim,” she says, finally stepping towards him. “The three of us. The… break up.”

“Ah.” His heart hammers all over again as Naomi approaches. Slow, cautious. Why must they put him through this? Get his hopes up, only to dash them? Again. Will she run away like Amos, when she comes back to her senses? Will this tightness in his chest or gnawing in his stomach ever fade? He so loses himself in doubt and questions that he doesn’t realize how close Naomi is until her long, cool fingers slide under his jaw and tilt his head up. It takes more effort than he’d like to meet her brown eyes with his. They look almost pained.

“Naomi, what are you—”

“I’m sorry.” Her thumbs stroke over his cheekbones. Her eyes lock on his. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it.”

Holden blinks up at her, brows drawing together. “You’re sorry? For what?” Naomi’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Holden makes a sound in the back of his throat that even he can’t quite interpret. Something in her small gesture makes him feel bold. And small. “Naomi… I did this. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

It’s Naomi’s turn to look confused. She purses her lips. “What are you talking about, Jim?”

Holden almost tells her. The words that explain him and Amos and their fallout nearly spill from his lips like a holy confession just to seek his penance. Her forgiveness. The shame of his works creep up the back of his neck and sends a another shiver through him. Something clicks, for Naomi's gaze softens further.

“Is this about you and Amos? Whatever happened when that patrol found us?”

Holden swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He nods. “I… said something I shouldn't have.”

He nearly starts when Naomi snorts. “Why does that not surprise me?” Her tone is gentle, her expression… affectionate.

“Naomi…” He pushes down the rising joy, the hope that unfurls in his chest. This is how she looked at him before. The way he’s wanted her to look at him since she stormed out of the bar with his heart in her hands. But as much as he wants to let himself just revel in it, she deserves to know. She needs to know. “When… the Martians… I told Amos you were right to be afraid of him.”

Naomi blinks. Holden’s heart stops. He wants to look away, dreading the disgust he’ll be sure to see when she processes what he’d said. That he’d said something so purely meant to hurt someone she cared about. Used her to hurt someone she cared about. He knows deep down it was to lash out over his own pain. And it makes it feel worse. Cruel. He deserves any judgement she may pass on him. So he can’t look away. He has to take it. He has to crush the hope he so badly wants to feel to keep himself from hurting more.

Naomi takes a breath. Nods. “You’re… blaming yourself? For everything?”

“Well…” Holden pauses. “Yeah?”

The disgust never comes. The corner of Naomi’s mouth twitches. Her thumb strokes over his cheek again. “Have you ever considered that I am partially to blame? It did start when Amos found out I was lying for you.”

“I—” No. He hadn’t. In all honesty—further proof of his asshole status—he’d forgotten how Naomi and Amos had fallen out in the first place. Naomi had protected him from Amos, at the expense of their relationship. Still a notch on his belt of fault, but… not by his own doing. She’d chosen to keep his secret, knowing what might happen. He sighs, looks away from her warm brown eyes by closing his own. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t.”

“I don’t know what I expected. But we do share the blame, Jim.” Her voice is soft, fingers still petting his skin. It’s so soothing. Holden hadn’t realized just how badly he’d missed her touch until her hands were on him again. “You regret what you said, right?”

“To Amos? Absolutely. I don’t… relish being cruel, in retrospect.”

Naomi laughs. “I’m certain you don’t. I’m certain you’ve had yourself in a personal hell since you said it.” She taps his jawline, and Holden opens his eyes to look at her again, Her gentle smile has returned. “You’re not the type to be cruel.”

“And neither are you,” Holden whispers. Naomi’s eyes widen. He moves his hands to rest on her hips, giving her a comforting touch of his own. She tenses. But only for a second. “You aren’t, Naomi. You don’t have to apologize to me. I understand why you did what you did. I get it now.”

And he does. It was unfair of him to ever think she should bounce between the two of them, or keep things up with him while she hurt over Amos. Unfair and cruel. And he’d almost died with those rifts between them. That thought hurts him most. Leaving all of this unsaid. Leaving them with all this pain.

Before Naomi can answer him, he pulls her close, presses his forehead to her stomach. She makes a sort of choked sound above him, an emotion he’s not sure he can place. She smells like sweat and grease. It’s not entirely unpleasant, not from her. It makes him think of home. His new home. Fingers thread through his hair, trail down the back of his neck. A soft groan escapes him, and he further melts into her.

God… he’s missed this. How could I be so stupid? He doesn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Naomi laughs above him. It’s a bitter bark of a sound.

“Not just you, Jim. I—I walked out on you at the bar.” Her voice wavers, her grip on his hair and shoulder tightening. “You could have died and the last real conversation we had was weeks ago. I’d ended things and just left you there.”

“But you waited for me on Eros,” he whispers, still loud enough for her to hear. “You waited. I didn’t die. You didn’t leave me and I’m here.”

The ease with which the words fall from his lips surprises him. The certainty. It surprises Naomi too, for she stutters—Naomi, stuttering!—before taking a breath.

“It’s that easy for you?”

“Yes,” he assures her, certain as anything. “That’s it.”

And it is. Of course, he may have blamed her for his pain once. As he sat alone at the table back at Opal, waving a waitress down to close their tab to distract himself from the deep ache in his chest. But he quickly turned it into anger at himself. She doesn’t need his forgiveness because there’s nothing to forgive. She’d done nothing wrong in choosing Amos. In choosing herself.

Naomi gently pulls him away from her stomach, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. Holden gazes back up at her. He’s unafraid now. Her long fingers tease through his hair again. The question lingers in her eyes. Should we try again? Holden wants nothing more. He nods, hoping the rest of his expression answers for him as she studies his face in silence.

Naomi relaxes, a small grin replacing the concern that colored her features. She leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Holden lets his eyes close.

“Let’s try not do that again, yeah?”

Holden hums, squeezing her waist. “Agreed.”

She kisses his forehead once more, nuzzling the same spot before finally pulling away from him. “I may have found something in the medbay that will help you long term. Think you can get dressed on your own?”

Holden hadn’t noticed when the shaking had stopped. He shoots her a grin. “I think I can manage.”

She returns his smile. “I’ll get Miller. Meet you there in fifteen?” It’s far more than enough time, even with weak muscles and shaky legs. His chest warms.

“Sounds good.” And it does. For the first time since Holden walked into the bar on Tycho to meet Naomi for a drink, something finally feels good. He finally feels good. “Thank you, Naomi.”

Naomi brushes her knuckles against his cheek, smile widening. Part of Holden wishes she’ll lean down and kiss him. The deeply-romantic, misses-his-maybe-girlfriend-more-than-coffee part. But if she had been ready for that, she would have done so. It’s not the right moment. They’ll find it. He’s certain of it now.

She leaves him with the clothes Amos had lain out for him. Not before shooting him one last smile over her shoulder as she ducks out the door. Holden’s heart is racing. For the first time in weeks, he doesn’t worry about it. He’s not scared. It’s not an emergency. He’s practically soaring. Wings of eagles and all that shit.

He eases himself back to his feet and dresses with care. Much of his body still aches and he still bruises too easy. However, there’s an eagerness he can’t keep from his movements. Naomi wants him again. Amos might want him again. He may be at half-strength or less, but he feels whole. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been missing parts of himself until he knew what it was like to have them back. He has to do better. Has to be better. Has to be worthy of the care and forgiveness they’ve bestowed upon him. Or… acceptance, in Amos’ case.

And later, after he and Naomi put the “protomolecule” sample in the missile, after she asked if he was okay, and after they had gotten… reaquainted with each other in the airlock, Amos finds him in the corridor on his way back up to Ops.

The mechanic gives him a once over, and Holden is pretty certain that Amos knows exactly what had happened before Alex’s surprise dinner. That he knows exactly what had taken Holden and Naomi so long in the airlock. He so wishes the radiation had given him superpowers. To know what Amos might think of it.

But Amos seems to answer that question for him by slamming him back into the bulkhead and kissing him hard enough to similarly slam his head back into the bulkhead. He doesn’t know what it is about his partners and pushing him into a wall, but if he’s going to get a concussion, ground rules might be important. Not that he’s thinking about ground rules when Amos is finally kissing him again. He grips at Amos’ jumpsuit, just like in the head hours before. This time, he doesn’t shake. He may be held upright between the wall and the hard plane of Amos’ chest, but Holden knows he can stand tall on his own now.

They kiss until they’re both breathless, Amos pulling away but staying close enough to breathe the same air. Holden gazes at him, not bothering to fight through the post-kiss dreamy haze these two often leave him in. Amos holds him by the jaw, studying his face. Holden wants to tip his chin up, kiss him again. But something like mischief flashes in Amos’ eyes. Holden’s brows draw together.

Amos stops his question with one of his own. “You and Naomi good then?”

Holden gapes at him. “What?”

“C’mon, Cap,” Amos scoffs. Holden files all thoughts of the title away for when he’s not pinned to a bulkhead. “It’s written all over your face. Hers too. Just a damn shame I wasn’t there.”

“Well,” Holden starts, clearing his throat when it comes out like a croak. “Well… it happened so fast, we just—”

Amos pats his cheek and pulls away, taking his warmth with him. “Nah, it’s fine. All good. Besides—” He leans in once more, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “You can always make it up to me by reenacting it when we hit Tycho. I’m sure Naomi won’t mind.”

He gives Holden one last hard slap on the arm for good measure before sauntering away, whistling some tune or another. Holden leans against the bulkhead for a while after that, head flooded with images of the three of them holed up in some fancy Tycho apartment for hours. When he finally pushes away, the fresh bruises from dual wall-shovings across his back and arms protest.

He can’t say it isn’t worth it.

[spidey-michelle]

love makes you happy

Synopsis: Michelle breaks up with Peter , because of Peter getting injured so often , she can’t bear the thought of seeing him hurt . So she thinks that taking herself out of the picture , it’ll cause her less damage . In both of their emotions in whirlwinds , Michelle gets hurt badly , without Spider-man knowing.

----///---- 

“ Hey MJ , you’re alright?’

Michelle tilts her head up to answer the voice of Peter , her boyfriend . She should of known , that he would pick up on her change of attitude . “yeah im fine! im really just thinking about life , you know?’ she sends him a small smile to try and conceal her true feelings in that moment , and thankfully it worked . In all honesty , she loved the boy with all her heart , but she felt like she couldn’t be with him anymore . As she laid in his arms , on the firescape of his apartment , in the cold air of the city , she kept thinking about him in pain . He was perfectly fine , right now , but she was reminded of last week when Peter showed up to her house , clutching his stomach in pain , and half of his mask torn . It scared her alot , the thought of losing him , now always nagging her mind . So being the great planner she is , she decided to take herself out of the picture so she could stop thinking about him in pain . Of course , that decision was only made after tears being shed for hours . Peter smiles down at her , matching her supposed happiness , and kisses her head . “ i can’t believe senior year is right around the corner , after high school is finished...im really thinking of officially joining the Avengers. “ The excitement clearly evident in his voice , sounding proud of himself , and finally sure of his choices. Now , that stung her heart a bit . Normally, she would feel the same , and be over the moon for her guy , but being in the Avengers brought bigger dangers . Michelle nods her head in agreement to Peter’s choice , feeling the need to start the conversation she has been dreading to begin . So she wraps one of his hands , while her mind was going blank . If she was going to do this , she had to keep a clean slate because emotions cloud judgement and she needed to finalize this before she was left scared every day of her life , knowing the person she loved most , risk his life. 

“Peter...i’m scared” 

“ of what? i swear there’s no rats up here , i che-” 

Michelle couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head “It’s not about mice , i was talking about you” Now , this is where it all started going downhill. 

Peter adjusts himself , now letting his arms drop to his sides , his eyebrows crunched in confusion . “Me? Why would you be scared of me?” . He tried to ignore the hurt that dawned on his heart , as he clearly wanted to know where she was going with this discussion . 

Michelle watched as pieces of his curly hair , moved slightly with the wind that passed through . It was distracting to say the least , Peter is distracting. 

She shook her head , and began talking “ I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore , Parker” , and that’s when Peter knew that she was serious and something was wrong . Michelle mentioning and referring to him as his last name , was friendly and reminding him too much of their arguing . 

“I’m being as careful as i can , which i cant make any promises because being a superhero isnt really like working at a corner store , MJ” his eyes never leaving her face , which they manage to keep eye contact as Michelle stands . She began pulling on her sleeves , wanting to disappear , already feeling guily seeping through her skin . 

“ I understand , but you getting hurt keeps playing in the back of my head , it’s making me worry more than it should .” She manages to let those words pass her dry tongue , her heartbeat increasing with every move , Peter makes . 

“You could of told me sooner , i could put the suit away for a few days so it could ease you...would that work?” He says , praying with every bone in his body that she would accept his offer . But , he stayed watching as she turned around and began putting her belongings into her bag , and shook her head . “I’m sorry , but i’m afraid that wont work for me . i know i sound stupid and selfish right now , but i cant make you give up what you love for me . That’s too much of me to ask , Peter.....” She pauses , daring herself to just slam her lips on his one last time. 

“ i can’t make myself worry about you being in the hospital every other weekend.. I’m already taking summer classes and i need to be focused.” 

As Peter’s mind tried to process the information , which felt like his head was spinning faster than a teacup ride at Disney , yet working at a snail speed . 

He reached for her hand , “What are you saying?”

“fuck...Peter , im breaking up with you” her breath hitched in the back of her throat , feeling like air was being sucked out of her lungs . She ignored the painful heartache , and began walking past him . She was so close to walking out of the apartment , wanting to forget . But an arm pulls her back , and before she began to protest , lips were touching hers. 

Neither of them could describe the emotions being passed between the two , the passion , guilt , anger , pleading for the other to let go and stay . Peter couldn’t stop himself , when he said “ i love you . please MJ , i’ll do anything...” . 

Michelle looked down at her feet , the minute she pulled away from that already breathtaking lip lock . “protect yourself spidey”  was the last thing she said before running out of the door . Trying to ignore the pleading , and the fact that it was midnight and had a 20 minute walk back home . 

---//-- 

Days turned into weeks , and Michelle even unplugged her television to avoid the constant media attention to the “Wonderful Spider-Man” . She barely watched tv , being that she currently obsessed with an autobiography on Angela Davis . She was an activist for the civil rights movement and believed in feminism greatly , especially during her younger years. So that really inspired Michelle , or to mostly distract her from the real world happening around her . The world she claimed to know so well , but barely experiences it . 

She had just walked out of school , having a little pep in her step . It seemed like one of the first times , she felt happy since not seeing Peter . She had gotten a 105 on a physics test , and it excited her so much . To see her hard work pay off like this , in a grade that was was above perfect . She almost ran to Peter’s locker to share her happiness ,  but turned back around to exit the building on one of the side entrances . They both felt horrible without eachother , but Peter respected her choices always and let her have space . 

Later in the evening , Michelle decides to go to the store to get some ice cream and eat it in a local cafe near her house . She couldn’t be home right now , her mother was yelling at her brother over something stupid , and she didn’t want to be around for that . awkward 

She had just bought the ice cream and was putting the extra 15 cent change back into her bag , when she felt someone grab her and push her into the alley that was neighboring the store . “what the-?’ Michelle mumbled to herself , it was around 9pm , so it was dark enough to not see her attacker . 

“give me the bag!” the person suddenly screamed at her , now she got worried . She wasn’t stupid , she was being robbed . 

Her pulse quickened , adrealine popping through her veins daring her to talk back to the mystery “ It’s mine man , back off “ Michelle realized that was probably the lamest comeback , but the person replied with a chuckle and replied “ You just wanna get hurt don’t you? just give me the damn bag , or i’ll actually damage that pretty body of yours” 

Michelle’s eyes bulged out of their sockets , as she noticed the moonlight illuminating on a shiny object in the left hand of her attacker . 

It’s a knife..a pocket knife to be exact . 

But she always had the upper hand , she had taken defense classes since she was young and carried a small can of pepper spray with her . “ and you should really rethink robbing me , loser” she snickers before reaching into her purse and spraying pepper spray right into the eyes of the guy . She smiled to herself , after literally standing up for herself in a robbery attempt . It was the first ever in her life , but she succeeded . Whew!!

Screams fell out of the guy’s mouth , but didn’t leave his spot . Usually , people would run in agony and to the nearest emergency room . Now she really panicked . “ You’re funny , little girl” he whispers to her , and reaches to grab Michelle. “If you touch me...your dead” she tries to sound intimidating . 

But , judging by the raspy voice , the guy probably smoked , so he was definitely older than her . He set his hand on her hip , pulling Michelle flush to him . He stunk... 

But avoiding the urge to gag , she tried to look around for any weapon but she took too long because she felt the purse be ripped off her body . Great... the day she picks one of her expensive shoulder purses to wear.. 

She felt a cold metal sensation on the right side of her hip and looked down to see the knife wanting to slash into her skin . 

“you got my purse , you dickhead” Michelle says , trying to escape his grip . So she starts screaming for help , the minute , they both spotted someone coming their way . The man cut Michelle , mostly on accident , because she was struggling so much . But the gash was about 2-3 inches long , and Michelle yelped in pain , as the guy ran away with her ice cream and purse . 

The bystander , held Michelle up on her feet as she almost loses her balance and began asking questions . She manages to say “he took it..take me to the hospital please” Michelle looked up at the person to see a middle aged woman and she immediately nodded . The gash was deep but it definitely wasn’t so serious. Her shirt soon felt sticky , with her blood . 

She was really trying not to freak out . 

But , Spider-Man wasn’t there to save her and that teared at her heart strings a bit . 

      Light soon made it’s way through Michelle’s eyes , as she opened them , probably after sleeping . But she woke up , to a bandage wrapped around her hip . She wondered who put that there..she had probably been sleeping for a while . She looked around to see jackets spralled on the seats next to her bed so she figured her parents had come . 

She remembered taking anti-biotics and pain relievers before falling asleep so she didnt wince in any pain . Which she was thankful for . She was still wearing her clothes , because she didnt want to put on that disgusting gown thing that really doesn’t cover anything at all . She sighed , just laying back in the bed . Thankful , that she didn’t get killed or even raped.. just for a bag and some money . 

She checked the bedside clock and noticed it being past midnight , and figured she could leave tomorrow and go back home , before school on monday . 

Her parents didn’t return , so she called in for the nurse to ask .Michelle shared a friendly smile , as the nurse walked in the room , but she asked “ Hi , do you know where my parents are?” they had been gone for almost 20 minutes , and she wondered why they left their wounded daughter in a hospital room alone .

“they decided to have a snack in the cafe , also said something about making a call to someone and not wanting to wake you” the nurse replied as she readjusted the pillow behind Michelle . Her family must of been worried sick about her , so she calmed down and just relaxed . As the nurse walks out , Michelle sits up on the bed , Letting her feet dangle on the side of it  . She couldn’t move her legs as much with the plastered bandage across her waist so she just sat there . 

But being alone , made her think of Peter , and she hated to admit the big mistake of letting him go . She fiddled with the bracelets on her finger , distracting herself from anything and everything . Until , she heard voices outside her door , they were loud enough for her to hear but faintly . It was a man , asking for a room number . Michelle had hoped that whatever was going on in that waiting room , was gonna be okay for whoever the victim is . 

She hadn’t noticed the television on , or the mention of Peter saving a cat from a tree and other stuff she had already tuned out of her head . She had decided to want to lay down again , because of the sudden pressure of her slight injury , but her head perked up to the door being opened harshly . She turned her head quickly just to spot the remote control next to her , but heard the door shut and finally looked at whoever had walked in . 

Michelle had looked like an absolute mess , but that didn’t stop Peter from just admiring all of her in those few seconds . He smiled when he noticed the shock on her face , but he walked up to her and hugged her tightly . 

they wrapped their arms around eachother , missing the warmth they provided for one another . She backed up , as best she could , sitting down of course. She was in denial about peter being here with her , but she was more curious on how he knew . “how did y-” she began to ask , words getting caught in her throat. Peter couldn’t hold himself back anymore , her lips were just taunting the life out of him . He leaned in and pressed her lips on hers , finally . 

Michelle dismissed the fact that both of them slightly groaned with the feeling but she let her arms rest on his shoulders . For the first time in a while , Peter had the height advantage and set his hands on the bed , mostly the space next to her . He tilted his head , to try and get more out of this , out of the feeling of comfort and bliss , just from kissing the girl . She pulled away , now resting her hands on his chest to keep him away before she could catch her breath.She also managed to whisper his name , as she was running her fingers through his hair .  She noticed his attire , consisting of sweatpants and the school sweatshirt and she laughed on the inside .

“im sorry i didn’t get here sooner...your mom called me like half an hour ago and i came here as fast as i could” he says quickly , almost like he made a mistake .

Michelle almost felt the need to cry , mostly because of how much he cared , and how much she realized that Peter could easily worry about her as well. The only reason why she had wanted space was because of the constant reminder of Peter getting hurt and injured , and he probably felt the same with her . 

She wasn’t alone in this. 

“it’s not your fault.” she says smiling weakly at him , she was tired , but she wanted to stay awake for him . 

“ i’m so glad you’re alright MJ...i don’t know what i would of done if something happened to you..i was so scared . “ 

“i know...i feel the same with you” and with those words , memories from that night , a month ago , came flooding back into both of their minds . 

Then he kisses her again , a slight peck on the lips , which narrowed her focus back on this moment . 

“your happiness and safety , is really all that matters to me...i’ll put the suit away for you damnit..i just dont wanna lose you” his eyes never leave hers.

She realized his seriousness and shook her head , “ Peter , stop..you aren’t giving up Spider-man for me . That’s dumb and useless” 

Peter grabbed her hand and squeezed it “ nothing about us is either of those adjectives in that sentence...im being serious..If me , being a super hero isn’t giving you the best vibes , then i’ll talk to Tony”

Michelle cupped his face with both hands , and said “ i’m not letting you do that, i realized that we both worry about eachother...and i cant change how you handle your battles , because that’s simply not my job for you , nor my intention of wanting you to listen to everything i say..i’ll try and keep my sanity under control so you could sling webs across New York City to save people” she admits while grinning up at him . 

She couldn’t explain the sheer happiness that spread through her wildfire , when Peter shared that same goofy grin , she loved so much . 

“i missed you..so much” he says , pulling her close to wrap his arms around her small frame . 

“i love you , Peter...i really do and i hope you accept me as your girlfriend again , you dork” 

Peter places a hand over his heart , mocking her with acting defensive over the commonly used nicknake . “i’ll take you back , if you kiss me again” 

Now , it was her turn to laugh as she smiled against his lips .

If you would of asked Michelle Jones , 2 years ago , that she would fall madly in love with a dork she’d known since middle school and spend all night in a hospital room just talking , and crying over how much she missed him , she would of actually called you insane because she barely reads teen romance books.. that basically describe her relationship now...

She was happy.

For real.

[megajolenejolenejolene]

I don't understand.  

My life has been torn apart, 

I have been used and abused and taken advantage of. I have given my all, for nothing.

Why haven't you tried to contact me?  Why have you denied me every step I take to reunite?

I have fought for your since day one only to be be ripped apart like a piece of garbage all to protect you because that is what you begged me to do. You ignore me and left me to rot on my own.  you live a lavish life while I cry myself to sleep every single night!

what is being said about me?

That I abandoned you? Yet I was run out of my own town, not able to face anyone who knew you or me. to be far away from the police who said you lied and lied in court for you!   Cant face the moms and friends you go to school with because you are gone Cant face family. My friends. I can't get out of bed. You died. You literally Died. I got nothing from you.  I see you places, I remember your smell, your husband and kisses! I miss our nights laying in bed laughing til our stomaches hurt when you were suppose to be asleep.

I cry at songs and movies. Everything in CA reminded me of you yet I couldn't see or hear you! I was broken, lost , broke and falling apart. I wanted to create a new life for you. I knew (or Thought I knew you wanted to be dafe and far away so he couldn't hurt you anymore). Did he never hurt you?  Did you lie to me to get me to fight for you then give up and throw me under the bus?  This is not like you! Its my little girl who could never be without her mommy! Who never wanted to be with friends or her father. who slept with me overnight, who my whole world and yes it was a crazy unpredictable world but it was all for you.

You've broken my heart! I don't understand! 

Why?  You cant be afraid of him, you were so strong and always stood up for yourself! What changed! What has he told you! What has he done to my baby girl!  Why did you leave me alone to fight!?  I continued fighting, with court and emails and calls all with false hope and more pain, No one returned my calls or emails. the email bull shit game started again! Ignore then deny!  Why? What did I do to you?  I only tried to protect you then everything turned on me and you gave up.

You are happy now. 

there's no reason you could have never called me or texted or emailed me or talked to a friend to contact me There are so many ways so whatever our reasons are, I don't think I can ever believe them. 

Its not like you.  

The last call I remember is you crying nd begging me to save you.  Then you dissapeared and I no longer existed.

Ive tried to understand he may tell you things that scare you, like Id go to jail. This is RIDICULOUS and you know this. Why you all him to continue to manipulate you now at your age, is unbelievable, so I don't believe,

you think I abandoned you? where were you? I could not have you for three years! All I could do was build a new life for us far away, now Im the enemy?

Ive almost lost my life twice and still, no one cared,  

My mother was dying and I saw you.  I grabbed you out of instinct, primal mamma bear instinct and you did NOTHING!  you didn't hug me back,  How dare you!

My heart is so broken, I don't know how I can get through the day sometimes an you are off in Hawaii, living your best life.

So where are all the other mothers?  Do you ever think of me dances shopping, your period?  Zia is the bet isn't she?  She knew everything about your dad and still supported him and now she's your mother as she always wanted to be.

Im sick to my stomach, I cant breath, I cant see the screen from my tears. 

No one wants to listen to me and understand my pain, they say oh its only three years.

You are my CHILD I should have never been taken from you and you from me.

I saw your pictures. Who are you? I don't know you.  I feel so abandoned and unloved.  

You risk everything for others but nothing for me. How will this be when I see you. will you stare at me in disgust?  I only remember the 12 year old mamas girl who stared in my eyes and told me funny stories. 

I don't know you. It hurts so much.  Im so lost. I cant talk about you I cant think of you I cant see you.  They have killed you in my mind.  I cant do therapy because it hurts to much

He has manipulated and destroyed our lives.   Im so afraid of you Im so afraid of rejection

I want my little girl so bad. I need her. My life is incomplete and not worth living without her. 

How do I go another year without her?  Does she think of me? Does she even love me? 

I think she stoped loving me. Her rejection will killl me 

I have scanned every single court document, I have scanned the copied of emails and call logs.

You need to see the lies and deceit the way they destroyed me, scared me to even breath.I couldn't take it anymore.  You need to read it all.  what they said you told them about me,  How they turned everything around. You knew the truth and you said NOTHING

If you did tell them, well I guess your financially set for life because you can sue the hell out of both lawyers,  

You need to finally see what was done to me, to run me out and destroy me so I would give up on you WHICH I NEVER DID even from 3000 miles away!  NEVER! EVER!  I fought and they ignored or ridiculed and threatened and you never helped me. Your sisters never helped. Everyone shit on me 

I cant write anymore tonight I'm disgusted.  I see your pics and I cant stomach the fact you never have tried to contact me. Theres no excuse other than Im not worth it to you.

I know where I stand and I know what I have done to resolve all of this.  I need to know what you have done.   Because right now, I cant imagine how a daughter could just stop loving her own mother 

[hardyimagines]

Part 1 — Escape

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Alfie Solomons has had a horrible, stressful day at work and just wants to go to the brothel down the road for some STRESS RELIEF. Will he take up the offer of an inexperienced young girl being the only one he can have his way with or will he have a change of heart?

Tagged: @annoyingpeople-postingthings @thatsamegirl @peakyhoegh @ihclipse @callisen @hardygal69 @centerhabit @favouritereadings @goodiesintheclosetlove @buckypetal15

If you’re more interested in reading about James Delaney, the story is here! Foreign Kindness

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

Word Count: 4.3k

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“Blow that fucking candle out, will you, Ollie, smells like a fucking ashtray in here, innit?” The bushy bearded, blue-eyed, bear in the corner coughed softly into his fist, not bothering to lift his eyes to the boy in the corner who followed his every order. Today had been one of the longest work days in a while. Alfie hadn’t felt this angry in a long time either. The flame on the corner of Alfie’s desk danced to silent music, in the candle holder, glimmering brightly from its position on the stick as it illuminated the man’s face while he worked. The yellow wax slid along the sides of the candle, melting it even further before Alfie leaned in. A soft puff of air was enough to kill the light, drowning them in the darkness. “Now, go on home, yeah, it’s late.” He finally lifted his gaze to his right-hand, watching the lad as he gathered his things. “Goodnight, Alfie.” His low voice, gripped by the hands of sleep, filled the soon to be empty office. Alfie gave no response, lost in the work he needed to clean up before he could even begin to head home. Every day seemed to be more stressful than the last. The business was irritatingly busy which meant more problems would arise and Alfie would have to figure out solutions for them. It wasn’t bad every once in a while when he had to fix something, but when it was everyday or sometimes even twice in one day, that was an absolute headache. Alfie’s torn and tattered boots hit the floor like a hollow drum. The man moved around his office, ensuring things were locked for security reasons before he could leave. Lifting his black coat off of the wall, the heavy fabric embraced him. His black hat followed his coat on to his body, settling securely on the top of his head. He looked much older with the shadow casted over his face and his beard being the only really visible thing. Next he grabbed his cane and now he stood, the perfect painting, resembling an old man. Curling his fist tighter around the wooden cane in his hand, he made his way out of the empty distillery and out into the chilly streets.

The cobblestones were jagged and rough against the bottom of his boots, occasionally making him nearly lose his balance. The cane didn’t help much either when it would stab the cracks in the ground, nearly causing the man to topple over once more. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on Alfie as he made his way down the dark streets and toward one of the only buildings that was open at this late hour. ‘Esmeralda’s Brothel’ shone entirely too brightly down on the city. The words were red, illuminating Alfie in the color as he approached further. He hadn’t visited in a year or so, but he knew she would remember him, for he had, in fact, had his way with her. The heavy blue door opened before giving no warning as it slammed shut, nearly whacking him in the back. He removed his hat to show his face more clearly, tipping his head lightly to the guard in the door. “What can I get you sir?” The gruff voice from the bald man filled the air. “Right, I’m not picky, I just need an hour or so, yeah, with any lass you’ve got.” The guard eyed the man intently before nodding once. “We’ll need to take your coat and check your pockets. Have you got any weapons on you?” Alfie shook his head before letting a slow grin spread over his lips. “Fucking hell, mate, you’re fucking telling me people try and come in here, right, to kill a—“ The guard nodded once, silencing Alfie. “There’s worse people in the world.” Alfie muttered beneath his breath before removing his coat and stepping forward so one of the pretty women beside the door could check his clothing. “He’s clean.” She smirked before moving away. Esmeralda made her way down the stairs, green eyes shining as brightly as he remembered. “Right, that was our last girl!” She shouted to the man running the door, for he was the only one that looked over his shoulder to her. “I’ve got another customer here, Miss!” Esmeralda squinted before making her way toward him. “Well the bloke’ll just have to go, I..” When the black-haired woman turned the corner, she was rendered silent at the sight. “Alfie?”

Alfie Solomons extended his arms, ushering to himself. “The one and only.” He smirked before stepping toward her. “Hello, Esme, are you doing good? Yeah, you fucking look like you are.” Her cheeks darkened to a soft shade of red before she stared up at the man. Alfie was one of the wealthiest people she knew and if he wanted a girl, he’d have a girl. “Right, Charles, I’ve just put a man in with Y/N. They shouldn’t even be started yet, you go on and get him before he can start and then she can be for Alfie.” The guard gave a wary look, directing his stare to alfie. “Yes, ma’am.” Excusing himself, the man made his way up the long flight of stairs, coming to a stop outside the door. “I’m coming in.” He shouted, fist hitting the door once before he turned the knob and entered. You were curled up in the corner, fear stuck on your pretty face. The man was knelt on top of you, being entirely too touchy with himself, no doubt trying to get you worked up in some fashion. “This is what makes you a woman.” The git hissed, still remaining oblivious to the intrusion. “Right, she’s been paid for by someone else, so you’ll have to leave.” The guard cut in smoothly. The man stood from the bed at the surprising third voice in the room, tucking himself away. “Excuse me? I paid a good deal of money for this whore.” He spat, pushing his peppered hair out of his face as it fell from his slicked-back do. “I’m not done with her.” Charles curled his beefy fingers around the man’s wrist. “You’re done when I say you are. Now get out. A very wealthy man wants HER and you can have Bailey when she’s finished, mh?” He growled, warning the man that if he didn’t leave, there would be extreme consequences. He scurried from the room, eyes low. He was not happy. You were the only virgin here.

“She’s ready!” Charles shouted downstairs to Esmeralda before entering the room. “Oi, you cant be crying and curling away from the customer, you’ve got to act like this is normal. I told you it’ll only hurt the first few times, didn’t I?” You, teary eyed and still scared, nodded your head gently. “Can’t you send someone in that’s hardly got.. anything?” Charles cracked a slight smile. “We don’t inspect their privates, Y/N. Esmeralda knows the next man, so he’s not going to hurt you, I’m sure.” The loud thudding from the hallway filled the bedroom, so Charles began to back away. “You’ve got your emergency button in the corner. Hit it if necessary.” With that, he turned on his heel, nearly hitting Alfie on his way out. You pulled the duvet closer to your body, shielding your skin from whoever was about to enter the room. Your long lashes kissed your cheeks when you would blink. You were quite dainty, but you had some curves. The blue slip you wore was yet to be touched and the other man had merely started working himself up opposed to you. Alfie stepped into the room quietly before closing the door. He ushered to the lock, dark eyes falling on you. “Am I meant to lock this?” You composed yourself, slowly sitting up on the mattress. “Mh, yes, unless you want someone stumbling in here on accident.” Alfie’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Turning the lock, the man moved further into the room and you could tell he wasn’t a regular. Regulars yanked their pants down and got on with it. This man was pacing momentarily before approaching you.

A ball of fear filled you, but Alfie merely sat down at your side, alleviating some of it. You, unsure what the man wanted, shyly placed your hand on his arm so he would look at you. He didn’t. Most men that came to the brothel were not attractive. They were old and worn out or complete assholes. This man seemed like he was in the wrong place. “Mr. Solomons?” You glanced to the door, eyeing the name-tag hung on the frame. Alfie lifted his eyes to you, grumbling quietly. “Come on then.” He ushered to his lap, hand gliding to your small hip. You gave the man a look of uncertainty. He was acting like he didn’t even want to be here. Your knee bent before you slowly lifted it over his knees and lowered yourself down on to his lap. Gazing down at the man, he placed his hands on your sides, rubbing them before he leaned in to kiss you. This, you’d done before, but never as deeply as Alfie was going. You let out a quiet moan, unsure of if it were for show or if it was because the man tasted like cinnamon and spice. Your arm looped around his shoulders, knees squeezing his hips as you pressed yourself closer to him. You felt his breathing quicken when you brushed your nails along the side of his neck, caressing the hair that escaped his skin. He flipped you over and for the time being, you didn’t mind. Laying on your back was rather comfy and you liked the warmth from him trapping you against the bed with his built body. Moving your lips in time with his own, your brows furrowed as he dipped his hips and rubbed his clothed crotch against your own. Blushing visibly, your droopy eyes grew heavier. He was being very considerate, you thought. When Alfie pulled away to catch his breath, he knelt up on top of you to get rid of his slacks.

Your body stiffened slightly. Nobody had ever done anything remotely sexual to you, and now here you were, about to lose all of your innocence to a man with a need to relieve himself of the tension sprouting in his body. His large fingers smoothly undid the fastening on his trousers and when he stood to push them down, you couldn’t help but gawk. “I’m usually fucking patient with these things, right, but it’s been a horrible day, yeah, so I don’t mean to get right to it.” He grumbled before undoing his shirt and discarding it on the floor. The man was naked now and you weren’t sure if he wanted you to do the same. Laying still, you let him do the work. He came here for this anyway, he could at least lead you. The bed creaked as Alfie climbed back on to the mattress. Hooking his hands around your knees, he pulled them apart before rolling the baby blue silk up your thighs and around your hips. The color in your cheeks hadn’t faded and if he would look at your face for more than a split-second, he’d realize. “Off with these then.” Pinching the laced fabric of your underwear, he smoothly slid the material down your thighs, over your knees, and along your calves before letting them fall to the floor. You cleared your throat shyly and that caught some of the man’s attention. Crawling up the length of your body, he placed his hands beside your head, biting on his lip. “You alright?” He asked quietly before moving his hand between your bodies so he could grip his shaft and guide himself into you. You visibly stiffened the second his tip came into contact with your entrance, allowing a low whimper to escape. “Wait-“ You whispered harshly, pleadingly. Alfie did. “What?” He frowned when you gave no explanation. “Why are you flinching, girl, I haven’t done anything, yeah? You’re alright.”

Esmeralda had warned you several times. Never tell a man you’ve never had sex before. That won’t make them back away, it’ll just make them all the more eager. You couldn’t help it though. Alfie was being so patient with you, staring down at you with a curious glint in his earthly eyes. “I’ve never had sex before.” You confessed to the man, small hands twitching as they lifted to his sides. “Could.. you just be really gentle?” Alfie looked dumbfounded. They had a virgin working in a brothel? “You fucking what?” He knelt up and away from you. “No- no, please.” Your small hands shot forward, gripping his arms. “Esmeralda will be very upset with me if I don’t give you what you came for.” You tugged on him gently, eyes desperate. Alfie gave you a look of bewilderment. “This isn’t the way you want to lose your virginity, pet, I fucking assure you.” Sliding off of the bed, he began to grab his clothing, but you bounced off the mattress, halting him for a second. “Mr. Solomons, any other man would’ve just did what they came to do and fucked me.” Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, nervous. You felt so sick. “Please, I cant have you go down there and say you didn’t want me.”

Alfie lifted a brow. “Well, that’s not the case, now is it, right, I did want you.” Ushering to the bulge in his boxers, he began to drag his trousers up his legs, but you quickly gripped his wrists. “I just don’t think, right, it’s acceptable for me to be your first. You’re too young, how fucking old are you?” You stared up at him in confusion. “Old enough.” You said firmly. “Ah, barely. Look at you.” He growled, studying your features. If he had looked a little closer at you, he would’ve realized your age showed. “What are you, eighteen?” You clenched your jaw before shaking your head lightly . “Twenty.” You let go of his wrists and allowed him to pull his slacks the rest of the way up. “Right, pet, well I’m fucking thirty-seven, so I still don’t think it would be right, yeah, for me to do this. I can tell Esmeralda things happened and I’ll be on my way.” You frowned deeply. “I-“ this was the only man you’d actually be relatively comfortable giving yourself away to. At least he was thinking about your wellbeing instead of his own. “Mr. Solomons, please. This is my job, I’d rather have a gentleman like you as my first, versus an old bloke who can hardly move.” Alfie frowned, buckling his belt. “You don’t need to fucking work here, right, this is unsafe. You’re still too young- you’re a child.” Anger shone in your eyes now, frowning deeply. “I’m far from a child, Sir.”

Esmeralda looked to the ceiling. Frowning at all the muffled shouting, her heeled boots hit the floor loudly as she climbed the stairs to go see what the hell was going on. You were probably causing trouble again. Your red features calmed instantly when you heard your boss approaching. “Lay down.” You hissed pleadingly. Taking Alfie’s arms in your small hands, you pushed him down on the bed with a surprising amount of strength before you climbed on top of him. Your small hands fit oddly nicely in the crook of his shoulders, gripping on to him gently. Esmeralda slid her key into the lock, twisting it before she opened the door. Her green eyes settled on you, squinting. “What the hell is all the shouting about?” Alfie moved to sit up because he had no idea what was going on. Cradling you on his lap so you didn’t fall on to the floor, you sunk your hips down firmly on to his own, drawing a quiet moan from the back of his throat. You drew your hips back before repeating the motion. Grinding your hips against the bulge he had tucked away, you let out little mews against his ear, weakening him further. Alfie shooed Esmeralda with another quiet moan, approval evident in his noises. The woman squinted, oddly jealous from seeing you on top of Alfie, but she shut the door and twisted the lock. Women like her didn’t get feelings for men. Making her way back downstairs, she clenched her jaw, maybe it had been another room doing the shouting. It had stopped now though, so she busied herself with other work.

Your movements didn’t cease. Long after the woman had left the room, your body continued to rub itself against Alfie’s, enjoying the breathy noises he was letting free. Despite the significant age difference and your inexperience, you were quite good at grinding, you presumed. Alfie’s fingers sunk into your hips, urging you on a little quicker. “She’s gone, Alfie.” You alerted the man, unsure of why he would want you to continue if he had just been complaining about how young you were. He made no move to speak, simply tilted his head back to savor the feeling of your body on top of his. When your hips stilled, he finally looked at you. “Now what?” You whispered, lips close to his own. The man shook his head. “I’m not doing that to you, right, it’s wrong, I think. It has to be, yeah, when there’s a seventeen year age-gap, it can’t be right to fucking do.” Your shoulders slumped and when he stood, your legs remained wound around his hips until he let you lower them. He moved to retrieve his shirt and you lowered yourself back down on to the mattress. “All the other men will hurt me.” You whispered.

Alfie craned his neck, eyeing your small form. “You’ve got a little magic spot between those pretty thighs of yours, pet, use her.” You sighed breathily, ignoring the tears that welled in your eyes. The men that wanted you, you couldn’t give yourself to and the only good man who’d come through here, didn’t think it appropriate to let himself have you. Alfie was on his way out of the dimly lit room before he froze. Turning around to face the bed, he eyed you. “If,” He didn’t know why he was doing this. “You want to come back with me, I’ll give you a job at my shop.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to have sex with anybody.” He assured you. You sat up on the pink bed, eyeing him in confusion. “And why would you offer me a job like that?” You asked softly, studying his features. Maybe he really would use you for sex, but only after a while. “This isn’t the right fucking job for you. A man is gonna come through here, yeah, and he, yeah, he won’t hesitate to hurt you if he’s not given what he fucking wants. I’ve seen it happen too many times, right.” The man moved toward the door. “If you’re coming, let’s go. Fucking miserable in here, innit.” You shot up from the bed. “She’s not going to let me leave with you.” You’d only known Esmeralda for maybe three days tops so trusting a gentleman like Alfie, who you’d known for maybe an hour, couldn’t be any worse. Alfie grunted, hand sliding to your back. “Don’t fucking worry about that.”

When the pair of you had moved down the green, carpeted stairs, Alfie stood in front of you, shielding you for the most part from anybody’s view. “Right, Esme, I wanna take this one home with me, I do, yeah, so what’s the price for that?” Esmeralda squinted at the man, hands planted on the surface of the podium she was stood behind. “She’s not to take home, Alfie. She’s entirely too inexperienced to be used for a week straight.” Alfie looked to you. “Well, She’s said she wants to fucking go with me.” Esmeralda scoffed. “Where’s your head, Alfie? She’s meant to say things to keep you happy. No, she’s not going.” Alfie grumbled beneath his breath at how difficult the woman was being. Dragging out a handful of money, he dropped it down on the counter. “As priceless as she may be, right, I think that’ll cover the expenses, right, for if I were to visit an entire fucking week.” Alfie lifted his coat and wrapped the material around your small body, protecting you from the harsh winds outside. Esmeralda gave you a look before forcing a smile. “He’ll take care of you, I’m sure.” The woman tucked the money away between her breasts, eyes shining. “Thank you, Mr. Solomons. Always a pleasure doing business with you.” Alfie grunted before reaching for your hand. Leading you out of the building, his hand swallowed yours whole. He’d gone in for a fuck and left with a girl. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on anymore, but as he looked to you, he made a silent promise to protect you from going back there. Nobody would harm you so long as you were with him.

———————————————————

“Easy boy, right, be fucking easy, gentle with the lass.” Alfie told the dog on the floor. Cyril sat obediently, tail hitting the floor loudly as he stared at you. You were new. He hadn’t seen anyone aside from Alfie in a very long time. The dogs paws were sliding along the tile as he tried to remain in his position. You drew off Alfie’s coat, hanging it where you presumed the correct spot was. The man watched you as you knelt down in front of Cyril, allowing the mutt to lick the entirety of your face. Your small hands pushed into his coat, stroking his fur repeatedly. “You’re so cute.” You cooed, kissing the top of the dog’s head. His brown fur was bright and very soft to touch. Locking your arms around his neck, you nuzzled into him before looking to Alfie who was hovering above the two of you. “I’ve never had a dog.” You told the man before rising from the floor and traipsing toward him cautiously. Alfie eyed you curiously before moving his hand to your back. “Right, well, it’s been a very long time since I’ve had a woman in here, yeah, it has, so make yourself comfy and uh, feel free to do whatever you’d like. What’s mine is yours and whatnot.” The man stepped around you, but you gripped his hand and halted him. Leaning up on your toes, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips before shrinking back down. “Thank you for letting me stay here.. and for getting me out of that brothel.”

“Right, pet, you don’t have to kiss me and all that, now.” He told you softly, tongue tracing his lips to savor the feel. “You’re not going to be fucking forced into anything here, yeah? Cyril and I will take good care of you.” He stared down at you, eyes trailing along each feature on your face. “What if I want to kiss you?” You asked the man quietly. You weren’t sure why you did, but the want was there, bubbling in your belly. Perhaps it was because of how gentle he was with you and how he’d, without a doubt, taken you away from such a horrible place. Alfie was taken slightly aback by your words. “Well uh,” he paused. Lifting his hand to his beard, he rubbed the length of it down before shrugging his shoulders ever-so-lightly. “Then you can.” His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “Just know, that you’re not being forced to fucking do anything like that, right?” You nodded simply, corners of your lips curling upwards. Alfie led you over to the sofa, ushering for you to sit down on the cushion. He’d gone out for some stress relief and since he hadn’t been able to relieve the tension strangling his muscles, he handed you a blanket before speaking again. “You can lay here, yeah, or upstairs in the second bedroom on the left, fucking clean that one is, right, none of the others are. Wherever you want to lay is fine. I’m going to have a bath,” He began moving to the hall in the corner of the room. “and if you get hungry, yeah, there’s some food in the kitchen, you can have whatever, right. I’ll check on you once I’m done.” You watched him go before slowly relaxing into the cushions that threatened to swallow you whole. The furniture was built for the man opposed to a small girl like you. Curling up, Cyril leapt up on to the cushion at your side before laying his head in your lap. You, drained from crying earlier in the day, and from shutting customers down for a few hours, were absolutely exhausted. Your small form curled up on the comfortable sofa, eyes growing droopier and droopier as you stared at the flames that flitted in the fireplace. Minute by minute ticked on, the quiet clock in the corner alerting you with every click. It didn’t take long before you were fast asleep, breaths deep, but soft, chest rising and falling with every intake of oxygen. The last thought on your mind before you drifted into oblivion was Alfie Solomons.

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Working on the James Delaney part now! 💛😌 I hope you guys enjoyed this! It’ll have more plot as I go along, I’ve got ideas for this story. I hope you enjoy it and remember requests are always open!

For anyone bothered by the age gap: The reason she is young is so she’s more dependent and likely to think that working in a brothel is the only way to go about her life because she’s alone and needs some source of income. Also easily manipulated. I have ideas from where to go with this, how/why the reader ended up where she is currently. I haven’t taken two characters and said ‘ok, you’re old enough to be her dad, be into her, this story is strictly physical’, it’s something that will eventually develop into a relationship throughout the plot. If you don’t like the gap, then please don’t read part 2. I’m happy with my story and will not be changing it 💛

If you’re more interested in reading about James Delaney, the story is here! Foreign Kindness

Part 2   Part 3    Part 4