thanlongvn

[our-trans-punk-experience]

So I have this pair of jeans I really like, but it doesn't fit at the hips anymore because of course my body decided that it hates me. Anyway, do you have any ideas for what to do? Like do you know how to either make them fit again, or any ideas for how to repurpose the fabric? They have a cool design on the side that I really like and I want to keep. I'm mediocre at sewing, I have needles and pins and elastic and stuff, I might be able to find a sewing machine if necessary

I don't normally do stuff like this because my parents, one parent in particular, thinks my appearance reflects onto them so I've never really been supposed to keep things that are ripped/stained/don't fit. Luckily they've been more chill lately, like they said I'm allowed to dye my own hair if I want

These are the pants I'm talking about

ok in terms of getting it to fit again, you could elasticate the waist, but i might say that clothing alteration is a bit ambitious if you're not amazing at sewing. I'd say what you've got there is some great patch material!! cut carefully to preserve the stripes on the side which you can make into cuffs or hemming material to diy onto a jacket or something later. also try and keep the waistband and button, the zip area, and the pockets in one piece bc thatll be useful later. cut squares out of the rest and write or draw stuff on it

[mellowsadistic]

Before & After - Ice Queen

Set in the world of The Magician’s Game.

***

Candice Holbrook was a rich socialite, famous in certain well-to-do circles both for her stunning beauty and for the cold, stuck-up, utterly disdainful attitude she showed towards anyone she considered to be beneath her, which was just about everyone. She was known among her friends (though ‘friends’ was a generous term for the underlings she surrounded herself with) as the Ice Queen – but people who were less charitable simply called her the Frigid Bitch. Even her own husband was sick of her frostiness.

It is perhaps no surprise, then, that she came to the attention of the Magician as he was selecting the unfortunate women who were to take part in one of his life-altering games. Candice started out strong, avoiding penalties and taking charge of the other girls, but during the second round she irritated the Magician so much with haughtiness that she was rendered incontinent and, as an extra insult, was stripped of the ability to change her own diapers unless they were right on the verge of leaking.

Candice tried desperately to hold on to her refined, authoritative persona, even as she toddled about attempting the challenges with an increasingly full nappy under her dress, but she may have tried a little too hard. Her fellow contestants didn’t take kindly to be scolded and bossed about by a woman in stinky Pampers, and Candice was voted out in the third round. Horrified as she was by the thought of spending the result of her life in adult diapers, Candice’s icy façade began to crack – but not enough to satisfy the Magician. Determined to put Candice in her place, he took away the one thing she prized above all else: her self-control. Robbed permanently of the power to regulate her own emotions, not to mention control her bladder and bowels, the Ice Queen had been melted into a puddle princess, and she was ready to be sent home…

Candice’s New Life

“WAAAAAH!” Candice wailed at the top of her lungs. She tried as hard as she could to stop, to pull herself together, but it was useless. “WAAAAAH!”

“What’s the matter, baby girl?” came her husband’s voice, and Candice squinted through her tears to see him lounging against the doorframe of her nursery, smirking at the sight of her bawling like a baby. She knew she must look utterly ridiculous with her nose running, her beautiful face red from shouting, standing in a giant playpen wearing only a Disney Frozen dress, a thick diaper, and a large, pale blue bow in her hair – a mockery of a tiara. But she still felt a fresh wave of uncontrollable anger rush through her at the sight of his smug expression.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she blubbered, stamping her foot. “I’m Candice Holbrook! I’M CANDICE HOLBROOK AND YOU CAN’T LOOK DOWN ON ME!”

“What a fussy little girl,” her husband cooed, walking over to her. “What’s got you so grumpy, hmm? Daddy fed you earlier, and you’ve had your nap…” Once he reached her, he turned her around, lifted up the hem of her dress, and pulled out the waistband of her nappy. “Just as I thought,” he said, chuckling. He spun her back around and looking her directly in the eyes. “Baby Candice made a stinky, didn’t she? Does the big baby want her dirty diaper changed?”

Candice wrenched away from her husband, her anger and shame totally spilling over. “I’M NOT A BIG BABY!” she screeched in an ear-piercing voice that made her cringe. “I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M NOT!” Her cheeks burned with humiliation at what she was doing, at the absurd spectacle she was making of herself, but she was completely unable to stop herself from stomping her feet and pumping her fists in an impotent fury as she shrieked and cried like an oversized two-year-old having a meltdown. “I WANT MY OLD LIFE BACK!” she wailed, jumping up and down on the spot and making her sagging nappy jiggle about stupidly between her legs. “I HATE POOPY DIAPERS! I HATE THEM!”

Her husband simply stood there, watching her throwing her tantrum with a wide smile on his face, until at last she wore herself out, and she was left gasping and hiccupping between quiet sobs. Her nappy felt disgusting.

“That’s it, baby,” her husband said gently, pulling her into a cuddle. “You got it all out, that’s a good girl.” He reached down and patted her padded rear, cupping the heavy seat of her diaper with his hand. “There’s plenty of wee-wee in here too. I bet you want a nice, clean diapie now, don’t you darling?”

Candice nodded, her face buried in his chest. A moment later, an unwilling giggle spilled from her mouth as her husband’s hands shot to her waist and tickled her sides. Her heart leapt with sudden, unwelcome happiness. She’d always suppressed her playful side before, but now, because of that foul Magician, there was nothing to stop the more childish aspects of her nature rearing their heads at any time. She hated how she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. But an even more embarrassing urge arose in her a second later as she pressed her body against her husband’s firm chest. No. She had to stop herself. She couldn’t lower herself like that!

“Daddy, I’m horny!” she blurted, grinding her diapered crotch needily against his groin and blushing scarlet.

Her husband laughed. “Alright, baby,” he said, his voice rich with amusement, “Daddy will change your nappy, and then we can have a little bit of grown-up time together, okay?”

“Yay!” Candice squealed. A big, dumb grin spread across her face, even as she cursed fiercely inside her head. This was almost worse than her tantrums! “I love doing grown-up things with Daddy!”

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Losing Power {Bryan Mills (Taken) x Reader}

approx. 700 words

Summary: You and Bryan had planned a date-night-in but the weather alters your evening.

Warnings: F! reader, drabble, fluff

You finally arrived at the entrance to Bryan’s apartment building soaked in the relentless rain that had been coming down for a solid 12 hours. As he fumbled with the keys you had in one bag, half a dozen movies to watch from the rental shop and in the other, the ingredients to make the best lasagna Bryan has ever tasted.

However, mother nature had plans of her own that evening. Instinctually Bryan reached over to the light switch to illuminate the kitchen, but to no avail. It was pitch black darkness. He muttered a couple of swears and vigorously flipped the switch a couple of times to confirm what he wanted least. You have no power. 

“What’s wrong, Bry,” you asked, oblivious to the situation. You were so focused on planning your little ‘date night in’ that the delayed turning on of lights didn’t faze you. 

“Here, let me take those, Love,” he said gesturing to the bags at your side to place them on the counter. “It looks like we’ve lost power because of the storm,” he said slowly and a bit nervous of your reaction, since he knew you were looking forward to this date.

“Well we better get into some dry clothes and layer up then,” you said in all seriousness. You are a natural adaptor, Bryan thought. So ready for whatever the world throws at you. At the both of you, together.

He leads you down the dark hallway until you reach his bedroom. There you both strip down to your underwear and find some dry, comfortable clothes. There is the vague suggestion of light coming through the bedroom windows, allowing you to see the items in his drawers.

“Uhhh, I don’t really have anything in your size, sweetheart. Are these alright?” he asked, holding up a pair of sweatpants. You take them from him and have to roll the waistband a couple of times before you wouldn’t trip on the pant leg.

“Perfect,” you cheer. You also reach for a long sleeve thermal running shirt of his as well as wool socks. You give him a peck on the cheek as ‘payment’ for the clothes and set off to collect the necessary blankets to create a sleeping haven of warmth in the living room. 

As you arrange the blankets and pillows to create the most inviting ambience, out comes Bryan from the hall, only heard by his thunderous footsteps. You plug in the battery pack to the lamp and are greeted with a marvelous sight: Bryan in very loose gray sweatpants and a large cable knit sweater. This isn’t such a bad night after all.

He nestled into the cozy set up you prepared on the reclining chair and opened his arms wide for you. “C’mere, Love,” is all you needed to hear before practically jumping into his lap and settling in the crook of his neck.

You both giggle as he tightens his hold around your body, not letting an inch of skin be exposed to the cold air. As the giggle subside you hear Bryan let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry our plans got ruined," Bryan murmured, his voice laced with regret. "I know how much you were looking forward to tonight."

You tilted your head up to look into his eyes, seeing a sincere look on his face. “It’s okay,” you said while tracing shapes on his chest. “I’m just glad to be with you, no matter what it is we are doing.”

Bryan pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. 

After a beat of silence he let his intrusive thoughts win. "I hate the thought of you being alone in the dark like this," he admitted, his voice soft but resolute.

“Hush, hush, big bear,” you said, cuddling impossibly closer. “I'm not alone tonight. I have my handsome man to protect me," you said locking your hands around his neck.

Bryan felt proud in that moment, happy that his girl was happy. He leaned down to have your heads rest on each other.

By morning there would be power, he thought, and you could resume your date night just as it was planned.

[felicitassews]

A few months ago I bought a bodyline dress second hand for $20, and the construction of it was so bad! It bothered me enough that I couldn't wear it without some alterations.

Here is the dress in all its problems:

1: one of the straps was sewn on inside out, I had to take it off and flip it over so they matched

2: the stripes didn't match up at the waist seam. This might not bother a normal person but I absolutely hated it. I ended up using the waist ties that came with the dress to make a waistband to cover it up.

3: the most egregious problem imo, the ruffle at the bottom was completely uneven. Like some parts were very densely gathered and others were totally flat. It looked extra stupid when the dress was bustled. I had to take the ruffle completely off and re gather it.

And here's how it all turned out!:

I think it looks 10x better even though I didn't do anything super drastic!

Dress hunting tangent:

As a side note I cannot find a bodyline jsk made in this fabric! The lace market listing said it was this dress:

And while it's very similar that's just not the same fabric? Searching through lolibrary and some some old blog it looks like other people have had a dress with the same item number as this one in the same fabric as I have too. Unless bodyline just made it with different fabric than what they advertised? Or switched fabric partway through the run? They're selling a skirt from this fabric on their website right now

But I can't find my evidence of a jsk they've ever made with it.

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Issue I'm dealing with right now is a great example of why I hate people who push the "DID isn't a disorder it's an uwu quirky super power" idea. (Obviously no shade to those who view their own system hood as a net gain but I see people treat 'disorder' or 'maladaptive' as dirty words in general and I find it really demeaning to those who do struggle, myself included obviously, as though it's just a matter of perspective and I just need to turn that frown upside down 🙃)

TW for needle stuff under the cut

So being trans and chronically ill, I have to get blood tests, like, a lot of blood tests. I also use estradiol injections as my primary HRT method. So needless to say, needles are a huge part of my life and healthcare. A couple years ago this was completely fine, I just stare off into space for a 20-30 seconds and it's over before I know it. I dissociate. Very useful skill, been great all my life yay no fear of needles I'm a big girl with my big girl sticker (bandaid).

The last couple years however, things started to go a bit wonky, I've started to pass out during blood tests. I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine and then suddenly the lights go out and I come to with a very apologetic and worried nurse. This led to one hospital visit where I needed to get several tests and so they put a cannula in my arm. Oh boy my brain did not like that solution, my wolf alter fronted and needed to be actively prevented from ripping it out with her teeth.

With my estradiol injections however, something different started happening. I do them weekly on the same day, Thursday, and first I would keep "forgetting" to do them. No Biggie, though, would just do it the first opportunity I remembered to. Then, I started drinking. Every Thursday, without fail, I would remember to do my shot and realise I've been drinking alcohol without even thinking of it. I was getting sabotaged.

Then last week, things got stepped up a gear. After administering my shot it hurt much more than usual. The next day, my jeans waistband was pressing on the bruise(?) and rather than just feeling ow, I started panicking. Every time I would move in a way that hurt it I would instantly be filled with dread. Dread that I had been stabbed and was going to pop my stitches.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, I've been having nightmares about needles getting stuck in my veins and needing to squeeze them out like zits.

So why is all this happening? Because of the dissociation. My brain relied so heavily and readily on dissociation as a coping mechanism for all this needle business, that it became a trauma. All those repeated chronic minor routine events, by not being integrated due to such an inherent tendency to dissociate are bouncing around in my subconscious and upsetting the system.

As such, protectors and persecutors are getting royally pissed off, because it keeps happening, and I keep doing it to myself. They're screaming out at me to stop doing this absolutely horrendous horrible life threatening thing because being mostly locked inside they don't actually understand why I need to do it. They don't care about the outside world, they just care that I'm repeatedly triggering parts of the system and want it to not happen anymore.

This is so endlessly frustrating for me, because I had no issue with needles whatsoever. Everyone else I know who has issues with needles gets exposure therapied into being fine, but for me? I get new trauma from things that shouldn't and wouldn't have been traumatic if it wasn't for my brain operating on automatic responses.

So yeah, fuck dissociation, all my brain homies hate dissociation and I'll bite the next person I see saying that it's inherently a positive force for good in everyone's lives that does it.

[wellpresseddaisy]

Sewing Progress

Because I need to share something that isn't about this year's US election --

I stitched up the PJ top I'd cut out a few weeks ago and...well, it was comically small in the sleeves. Like, slit them to get it back off small. Apparently whatever I'm doing to my biceps at the gym is working. The sleeves are also too slope-y for me. I forgot, while drafting and cutting, that I really need a non-sloped cut-on sleeve.

My shoulders are pretty square. That pattern is not for someone with square shoulders. So I'll alter the pattern a bit and try again.

Because I hate wasting a project, I spent some time thinking about the French knickers I made that wound up a bit too fuckin wimdy in the legs and how to make them wearable. Then I remembered that when I inherited grandma's sewing basket (not, at that point because she'd passed away, her vision got too bad for her to see to mend, etc.) it had 1/8" elastic in it, which was just the size I needed.

I threaded some of that through the waistband casing and added snaps at the side. If I make another pair, I'd like to try moving the gusset up about an inch. They're at least wearable for hanging around.

I also drafted the panties from here. They're half-sewn because it's been too hot to have the iron on. I think I'm going to like that pattern better than the French knicks.

[microsuedemouse]

I don’t know if you guys recall the pants nonsense I’ve been up to, but I wanna show off another pair! today’s was the third pair I did, and I tried something a bit different and of course made things more difficult for myself :)

new thing: wedge-shaped inset going down to the knee, rather than a stripe down the full length of the leg, as the last two pairs have been.

actually, for that matter, I never showed you guys the second pair—

have some screenshots from my ig story highlight bc apparently I’ve already deleted the original pics from my phone. (also. hm. I guess this is my Sewing Shirt. in fairness I do wear this shirt a lot)

anyway. today’s process pics and other nonsense under the cut in case anyone is interested!

okay. so. this whole half-leg thing came about partially bc this particular pair of jeans was already pretty roomy in the leg, but actually mostly bc I had some fun fabric kicking around that I wanted to use but that wasn’t long enough for the entire pant leg. I’m still using upholstery scraps of my mom’s - while the first two pairs were done with fabric she never got around to using, this fabric is leftover from when she recovered the seats on our dining room chairs, like, a decade ago. I’ve always loved the patterns we used for that project, and I’m kinda delighted I have another use for some of the remaining fabric.

decent, actually-sharp pinking shears have made a world of difference to this project, btw.

also, something neat about this fabric in particular is that it doesn’t have a wrong side! I could’ve used either side on the outside. I chose the side that’s facing up in that pic on the left there - with the continuous pattern in colour and the off-white parts broken up. I also cut the pieces along the same axis that the colour stripes fall, which is why - as you can see in those pics at the top - one inset is mostly blue and one is mostly green.

I’ve been doing my best to Be A Grownup about this project and actually pin things in place before sewing. I hate pinning, and it was particularly challenging this time, but I did do it. :|

you may notice I also safety pinned the pockets together. this is bc when I removed the side seam from the pants, I also cut out the pocket rivet so I wouldn’t have to sew around it, as that was a real challenge in my first pair. with pair two I removed the rivet but then had the pocket layers flopping around and not wanting to line up anymore. so, pair three, pin those layers together. She Can Learn!

something I didn’t do, but wish I’d done, is sew the bottom of each wedge/V-shape before the sides. would have made things simpler and probably also tidier. but hey, I learn something new with each pair.

basted the seams, which was kind of a bitch - again, I could probably have done things in a different order to save myself some trouble. checked the fit, then finished the seams with a zig-zag stitch. fought with the thread tension a lot. such is life. did the bottoms of the V-shapes by hand at the end - they’re not perfect, but they’re good enough. do you know how many people will compliment you on visibly altered clothes even when you know there are big mistakes in them? it turns out almost no one actually knows how to do this stuff.

trimmed off the excess fabric from the seams at this stage. I wanted to do it sooner, because I was struggling to mentally match up the exterior wedge shapes with the interior rectangles, but I think it was best to leave things untrimmed until the end - leaves me space to fuck up, lmao.

I also strengthened the waistband a bit, in the same way I did with my second pair - by folding the fabric over a couple times at the top and (carefully) stitching lines to at least approximately match the seams on the original waistband. I rarely tuck in my shirt, and I’m usually wearing a belt, so I’m not super fussed about that part being really tidy, but I like the continuity of the lines. (also: I even busted out the iron to get those creases nice and clean. christ, I must be serious.)

and that’s about it! I’m pretty happy with the result, and they feel really comfy to wear. I was playing some good music while I worked, and did a little dancin’ around once I had them on… I think they pass the test :)

[inkofamethyst]

January 2, 2024

So what defines "her"?

"her" is assertively feminine, doe eyes with a scheme behind them. "her" inserts blackness into atypical spaces. "her" is intellectual, academic. "her" is curious, ready for adventures. "her" is green, black, cream, brown (and burgundy, and goldenrod). "her" is dainty flats and hefty boots. "her" is pleated trousers and collared blouses. "her" is vintagey purses and hair ribbons.

I really like my "vision board of sorts." This was an excellent exercise in seeing what speaks to me now and being intentional about what I select in response to that prompt. Instead of a broad collection of outfits I want to copy, I think I've curated a mood that I want to emulate through symbiosis of clothes, hair, and beauty (I'm a degree-wielding biologist and can use "symbiosis" however I want, thank you). And I think that's more personal. We'll see how well I manage to reflect it. Since I'm on a savings kick I may not be able to invest much into this project until my emergency fund and travel fund are done, but I'll do what I can with the plenty that I own (maybe I'll follow the advice I gave my sister though and do a planned fun purchase <$30 once or twice a month for whimsy earrings or depop shopping). And maybe it's for the best, as it's almost never a good idea to buy new clothes after reevaluating one's style anyway.

Four years later, I believe the Cute Campaign has reincarnated. I seem to be a person of cycles, huh. From fashion manifestos to learning new instruments, certain life events seem to group together with others in familiar ways.

Ages ago I might've mentioned how I felt kind of weird about buying so many sleeveless mock necks because they were probably just a trend, but I consulted the depths of my pinterest boards to construct "her", and I now retract that statement because I've actually loved that look for years but have just never found any in stores or affordably online (not for a lack of trying). So, really, I'm just taking advantage of a trend to nab items that will likely receive years of wear and care (until I get comfortable sewing knits, that is--then it's sleeveless mocknecks all summer baby).

It does sadden me a lot that I have to leave home again, actually. I mean I'm sure living here all the time could become incredibly grating, maybe, but right now it just feels like love. I know I am loved even when I am far away from but it feels so close while I am here, like a warm blanket against my skin (as opposed to knowing that the blanket waits for me on my bed while I'm out and about during the day, just to extend this metaphor). I didn't really experience homesickness while I was away after those first few nights in my apartment, so I thought leaving would be easier this time, but it's not, not really. My new city does not feel like home, my new school does not feel like home. I hope that they do, one day. Because I hate how the last few days of being here are marred by my looming departure.

(I think that maybe part of it is a lack of community and creative outlet there. I don't have my sewing or my friends or my instruments. So I feel insular and antsy.)

The Winter King is an adult romantasy, the first I've ever read. The.. "adult" bit is admittedly new to me, uhm, so we'll see how I feel about it as I get further in. It certainly fits the angst I said I was looking for, no doubt about that.

Today I'm thankful for the absolutely darling necklace my mother gifted me to wear with the formal gown I thrifted. It's the literal perfect shape for the neckline and matches the shoes I intend to wear with the gown. Now I just need to figure out how to go about hemming the dress a few inches (...might pay a tailor to do it bc I'm scared).

Today's goals: complete alterations (2(?)), pack, redo the skirt waistband (UGHHH (the skirt is rly cute but I measured something wrong when cutting out the waistband and made it too small)), wash clothes. Maybe watch PJO. [edit: did not complete all but did complete other things and I spent a few hours shopping with my sister which was fun and I also made a simple but delicious dinner for my fam]

happy new year :)

[yarnings]

It’s that time of year, where I have to remember that as much as I like the idea of wearing long underwear, they’re structurally identical to wearing leggings. And I am fat.

[umbral-archives]

Are You Embarrassed?

This is an extended version of a little Discord drabble I wrote a few months ago, altered for a gender neutral audience. Essentially your first foray into fucking with whatever ego you read this for. You’ve wanted this for a while and when you finally get it, you are so embarrassed about how turned on you are, the man can’t help but tease. As always, hate it.

Rating: NSFW. MINORS DNI.

GN! Reader

Pairing: General Markiplier Ego x GN!Reader

Warnings: Foreplay

Word Count: 1000+

The bed creaks slightly as he settles over you, lips and tongue still tangling with yours. One hand wanders in his hair while the other grips at the arm currently moving down your body. You're thoroughly distracted by the steady rolling of his hips against your thigh. He's seeking friction to relieve the ache in his cock.

His kisses trail along your jaw to your ear and down to your throat, stubble ticking your oversensitive skin. As he kisses lower- lips finding those sensitive little nubs on your chest, you feel his hand also moving lower, fingers tracing nonsense patterns over your navel which makes your muscles jump beneath the skin. He moves to deviate lower, fingers dipping beneath that waistband-

"Wait-" You speak without thought, snagging his wrist and moving your free leg as if to close yourself off.

To his credit, he immediately stops, looking up to you with nothing but concern in his warm eyes.

The realization of why you had him stop hits you, along with one of those pangs of deep, queasy embarrassment. Your face flushes with heat and you look away, debating on grabbing a pillow and hiding.

"What's wrong?" He sounds so worried, over something so stupid-

Your mouth opens and closes uselessly as you fumble to articulate the explanation he's asking for.

"Are we going too fast? Are you unsure-"

"I-" You take a deep, steadying breath. "I- … It- I dunno how to- explain-"

 He regards you for only a few seconds before he carefully cups your sex- only to pause when he feels modest wetness along the seam of your underwear. You're soaked, and he hasn’t even completely undressed you yet.

 That was not there the last time he cupped you through your underwear. Though it had been a few minutes, and he was distracted with undressing you, kissing you, the way those sinful little hands of yours wandered-

 You're already that turned on? That much?

 … It hits him like a brick wall. You're embarrassed.

 Oh. Well then.

 You squirm at the touch, actually hiding your face even as you gasp at how hard you feel his cock twitch, throbbing against your leg. Fuck. You’ve got it bad for him, don’t you?

 "Is that it, Darling?~" The man croons and you hate how it sends a stab of arousal into your gut. "Is my sweetheart embarrassed about how much they want me?"

 You whine loudly at that, turning to face him with an indignant glare. Yet, it dies when you see just how dark his eyes are, face twisted with lust. He palms you with intent now, moving just so, encouraging you to rock into his hand with more force.

 “Fuck, sweetheart. You’ve already soaked through your underwear, you’re so turned on. Do you need me that badly, baby?”

 With strain in your voice, you try to explain yourself. "... I- look- listen- I want this, and it’s- "

He doesn't give you the time, mouth finding yours again in a mind-numbing kiss. You mewl against his lips when he starts to stroke you properly, opening your legs wider and rocking your hips to get more friction. 

It is you who breaks the kiss this time to try and talk again, but a finger pressed to your lips quickly shushes you. He stops his ministrations temporarily to gently push you back further into the bed, stilling his own hips in favor of focusing on you. 

 “God, there’s no need to explain, I understand.” The man smiles that warm, teasing little smile he always seems to give you when you’re flustered like this. Yet now, it’s still shadowed by that new hunger. He adjusts to kneel between your legs, those big hands sliding up your thighs and gripping just a bit harder than before.

 “My Darling needs me.”

 You squirm again, but you don’t know if it is from being so flustered, or the want that’s coursing through your veins right now. Most likely it is both, but you’re tired of thinking at the moment. What you need right now is for him to fuck you.

You’ve needed it for months.

“You needn’t be embarrassed about this, sweet thing,” he murmurs, rubbing his knuckles against your sensitive flesh. “Though it is adorable that you are.” 

 You hiss as your hips buck up into it, half a mind to palm him through his pants to see how he likes getting teased like this. He seems to sense your growing ire and finally relents, gently hooking his thumbs into your waistband to draw them down.

Any retort you could have managed in this state wilts the instant he sees your sex, flushed and needy. He shudders, swallowing thickly, eyes darkening further as his pupils slowly dilate. 

“Such a desperate little thing, aren’t you Sweetheart? I haven’t even properly touched you yet, and you’re already so messy for me.”

You absolutely did not just make the noise that you did, hands fisting the sheets at your sides for lack of something better to do. What can you even do right now? What’s worse is that you see his cock twitch this time, constrained by the fabric of his pants. Shit.

 ... You need that in your mouth.

Those long, thick fingers of his finally touch you like you need him to, exploring what you have to offer. You gasp and at the new sensation, hips jerking weakly as you rock into his motions. He only hums in admiration, biting his lip as he concentrates on mapping this new territory that’s all his to learn.

 “Believe me, sweet thing…”, he trails off as he brings those fingers up, thoroughly coated in your slick. You stop breathing once he runs his tongue over the first digit and groans from the taste. The man makes it a show of cleaning his hand of your fluids, keeping that tense eye contact with you through the whole thing. You can’t look away, both mortified and so desperately turned on that you don’t know what to do with yourself.

 Finally, he grins, leaning in and licking his lips. 

 “I want this as much as you do. I’ve wanted it for just as long, if not longer.”

 Holy fuck, what did you get yourself into?

[newtonsheffield]

Spicy Sunday request: Bruises stream conception of Miles?!?!

Oh Bless them, Kate's just obsessed with the first peek she got of not so lil Anthony

Every time she passed the stream she thought of that day. She thought of how her breath had caught in her throat at the first sight of the man she'd been aching for without truly knowing what it had meant to ache for someone. She remembered the way the sun had cast a halo around him and the shadows had highlighted every muscle of his body and he'd looked like a statue, chiseled from marble as the water had lapped and rippled around him with every movement. She remembered the tortured expression on his face and the way her name had fallen from his lips and the way he'd thought of her while he chased heaven. She remembered the way the pit of her stomach and the apex of her thighs had burned in tandem and she'd desperately wanted to join him. She'd wanted to slide her hand between her legs and grind against it until she'd fallen apart.

But more than that she remembered The way he'd wanted her and she'd known what that felt like for the very first time. What it had been to be desired. Something she felt everyday now. Desired.

Kate could see him now, the final rays of the afternoon light shining in the sky as the sweat dripped from his forehead, rolling down his chest. He was so powerfully built, tall and broad from years of manual labour, his muscles rippling as he wielded the scythe, cutting easily through the grass. She watched him pause, from her vantage point on horseback, wiping sweat from his brow before he knelt down, wrestling the freshly cut grass into a bundle, hauling it onto the back of his cart.

"If you've some comment to add my lady, I should hate for you to hold it back on my account!" He turned, grinning, well aware of every movement he made when his chest flexed and his hands landed on the waistband of his breeches, tugging them down further, exposing the thing line of hair that tucked below, teasing her a little, just like the glint in her eye.

Kate cleared her throat, ignoring the burn in her cheeks and the pit of her stomach. " I'd rather thought I'd proven to you this last year or so that I'm not a lady, Mr Bridgerton."

Anthony's laugh still caught her by surprise, almost as much as his hand tugging her from horseback did. There was something so boyish in it, young and carefree as he carried her back to his cart, setting her on the edge before he stepped into the cradle of her hips, pressing his warm skin against the thin fabric of the shirt she'd stolen from his wardrobe this morning. His voice was rough and deep as he nuzzled her neck. "You're always my lady."

There was so much familiarity between them now, every touch and kiss and word between them so familiar as he waited for her to bring her lips to his something hot and heavy hanging between them already. A groan fell from Anthony chest as their lips brushed gently at first, then deeper and rougher, their tongues tangling desperately for a long moment before Anthony pulled back.

"You wore these just to tease me, I know you fucking did." His hands had started tugging at the waistband of the breeches that been his before she'd stolen them and altered them.

"Oh and you were unaware of the appeal this might hold for me were you?" Kate tutted, tugging his hands away with a little pang of regret, swallowing the whine that fell from Anthony's lips before she gestured at his half naked body.

Anthony grinned, that muscle at the corner of his jaw jumping smugly. "Oh do you like it?"

Kate rolled her eyes, nudging him backwards with every step she took, her hands to the waist band of his breeches. "Yes, Anthony, you're so handsome, pull me to the floor and have your wicked way with me."

Anthony chuckled, stopping dead so she tumbled against his chest. "Now say it like you don't mean it."

Her stomach dropped but she shook her head anyway, tugging the clothing slowly from her body. "What I want is for you to take your clothes off."

Anthony let out a gasp the moment her shirt floated to the floor, a little whine in his chest as her breeches joined it. "You aren't wearing anything else."

"I'm not."

She could see the effect she was having on him already, could see the bulge in his breeches growing and his lip caught between his teeth, could see the subtle rub of his palm over the front of his breeches, desperate for relief already.

In moments like this, as she stepped back into the cool water of the stream, and Anthony watched every move she made so hungrily as she brought the cool water up and let it run over her body, made it difficult to believe that just months ago she'd been embarrassed by the new thickness of her thighs and the roundness of her form. Anthony's voice had corrected that so quickly it had sent her head spinning, his hand tugging down the sheet she'd tried to cover herself with so gently. Don't hide. You gave life to our child with this body. Let me worship it

"are you going to join me?"

Anthony groaned, pulling his boots off and then his breeches, throwing them haphazardly behind him. His hands found her waist the moment he waded into the water, pulling her closer to his chest, his lips finding hers while the cool water lapped around them.

Kate could still feel the heat that had yet to leave the day, simmering between them as her hand travelled down his chest, goosebumps rising under her fingertips and her lips found his neck.

oh Fuck, Kate.

She should have been used to that by now, the gentleness of her name whispered with roughness at the first touch of her hand against him, but it sent the same jolt of heat down her spine that it always had. Anthony'a chest was heaving already, his head falling backwards and his eyes screwed shut against the feel of her.

Anthony's arm snuck around her waist, tugging her even tighter against his chest, nudging her thighs apart a little clumsily, as her hand moved over him relentlessly. His arm was a tight band of muscle, squeezing tightly around her, the press of their skin warm against the cool water as he lifted her easily until she was straddling his thigh.

Anthony let out a noise like a purr as his arm around her waist guided her hips to find the friction she'd been burning for. "There you go sweetheart, that's it"

A loud moan fell from Kate's own chest and her forehead fell against his shoulder, her movements stuttering. They were both hurtling towards the end, every second pushing them faster and more desperate, heat ripping and pulling at them. She could feel Anthony's entire body tightening, could feel his breath coming in short sharp gasps, could feel her own thighs starting to shake before Anthony shook his head, tugging her hands away.

She let out a whine of disappointment at the loss of contact, even as Anthony chuckled. He still looked so handsome in the fading light, with the muscle in his jaw clenched and his damp hair falling in his eyes that burned down at her.

"Oh don't be cross." He was still teasing her, nuzzling his nose against hers, stoking the fire still burning between them. "You told me you wanted another baby, Darling. You won't get one like that."

She should have rolled her eyes, she'd wanted to but the roughness of his voice rippled down her spine and her thighs fell open to bracket his hips as his arms tightened around her again, their foreheads pressed together again.

"I'll get you a baby, I'll get you a baby."

There was so much determination in his eyes as his hips snapped towards her and stole whatever breath had been left in her chest, his moan own bitten off against the skin of her chest. The determination was in everything these days, ever since she'd whispered in his ear weeks ago now I know Neddy's still small but I want another baby. His shoulders had squared and his brow had furrowed and every movement was a promise. He would give her what ever she wanted. Forever. Whatever she wanted, whatever it was, she'd have it if she only asked him for it.

The pace was a little brutal, both their lungs burning as they stayed wrapped tightly together, their hips grinding together and the water splashing around them and still Kate couldn't look anywhere but in Anthony's eyes. There was a growl in his chest and heat in every touch and kiss so familiar between them as his teeth nipped and tugged at her leaving her marked for him. Kate's own fingernails were biting into Anthony's shoulders, tearing at the skin there every moan and gasp of her name pushing her higher and higher until she exploded, shuddering against Anthony as her vision blurred at the edges.

Anthony let out a roar, his hips stuttering erratically against her as warmth flooded her and everything was still.

"Holy fuck."

Kate wasn't sure how long they stayed intertwined before Anthony spoke, tilting her chin until their lips met in a filthy kiss and her legs fell from around his waist.

"I love you so much." His words were pressed against her skin as he brushed her hair back tenderly.

Kate nodded gently, "I love you too."

"That was definitely better than the last time I... was in this stream."

Kate tossed her hair a little primly. "I thought it might be."

"I like cocky Kate." He grinned, letting the water fall over his hair. "She makes my cock very hard."

"Save it for bed time, Anthony." Kate sighed stepping around him, though her stomach had lurched.

"Oooo!" Anthony crowed as she waded out of the water, tugging her clothes back on. "Anthony's a lucky boy today."

Kate rolled her eyes, tugging her own boots back on. "Anthony promised me a brother for my son."

"Anthony promised you a sister!" He scrambled after her, slapping her backside. "I want a little girl to play tea parties with."

"I love you." She couldn't help it, as he stood their, smiling fondly at the prospect of another baby, that would have had most men tearing their hair out with the eldest just eight months old.

"I know." He grinned, hoisting her over his shoulder, making his way back towards the horses. "And you'll show me later. now off with you Mrs Bridgerton, no more perving. I've work to do, grass to dispose of."

Kate sighed as he deposited her back on Abigail, leaning down to kiss him once more. "Come now, Darling. What's a bit of flesh between husband and wife?"

And with that she kicked Abigail into motion and galloped home, with Anthony's laughter ringing out behind her.

[rosaren2498]

Had this idea our of nowhere because I'm in desperate need of Jake's first interaction with the boys being him desperately protecting them, even at his own expense because that's what he does. He loves and protects them by any means necessary. Plus, I just... I need a story where Marc doesn't hate Jake, okay? So many stories either have them at each other's throats, or just have Marc hate/not trust Jake and it hurts too much.

With My Last Breath

The shadows seemed to move as he made his way through the halls, hand twitching towards the knife tucked at his side, or maybe the gun in the waistband of his jeans. Normally, the shadows made him feel at home, but he knew something was very wrong.

Last he remembered, he was fighting some kind of wizard and they'd done some stupid spell.

He had to find them.

His steps were silent, even as he slowly picked up the pace, and he was listening intently.

Something terrible was beginning to gnaw in his chest, some horrible chasm was opening in his stomach; he was nearly running now.

He heard Steven's voice cry out for Marc, he heard Marc call for Steven to run; he pushed himself faster.

He turned a corner to find a huge beast holding Marc in its clutches while Steven shook, back against a wall.

A vibration was building in his chest as he pulled the gun, and knife, immediately pulling the trigger. The beast roared in pain as it dropped Marc; Steven immediately scrambled to pull him closer.

He didn't hesitate to work his way around the beast until his back was to Marc and Steven and he stood between them and the creature. A fierce, murderous scowl had worked its way onto his face as that same vibration that had begun in his chest worked its way up his throat and out his mouth; a bone-chilling growl came out as he leveled his gun at the beast and held his knife close to his face.

"You will not touch them again," he snarled, baring his teeth like a furious animal; he supposed he was.

Steven and Marc were silent behind him, but he could feel their gazes like twin suns burning into him; he didn't look.

The beast snarled back and attempted to lunge so he emptied his clip into it. And when the beast still didn't go down, roaring in agony, when it tried to reach past him to get to Marc, or maybe Steven, he dragged the blade along its skin; it screeched and swiped him away from them, claws dragging across his side.

He grunted as he made hard contact with a wall, his head cracking against it causing his vision to blur; he ignored it, the long knife - that could almost be considered a dagger - still clutched in his hand, though his empty gun had gone sailing. He forced himself to his feet and lunged at the blurry figure of the creature, leaping onto its back before it could make another move at his alters. Without hesitation, without a second thought, with only the thought of protecting the only people he loved, he buried the blade into the creatures neck; he didn't even flinch as blue blood sprayed all over his face. The creature barely made a sound as the blade pierced its jugular, just a small choked noise before it collapsed to the ground, turning to sand, leaving only the knife, as well as the blood coating his face, behind.

He panted quietly, staring at where the creature had been before he slowly stooped to pick up his blade, slipping it back into its scabbard at his side. He scanned the nearby ground for his gun, but froze when feet came into his field of vision, his gun cautiously held out to him, grip first. He raised his head and found Marc standing directly in front of him, Steven peeking curiously over his shoulder.

He blinked and, looking back down at the gun, reached out to take it back, hesitating just before he grabbed it. His eyes flickered back up to Marc and Steven's faces but when neither seemed to oppose him taking it, he did; he immediately placed it back in the waistband of his jeans.

He allowed his eyes to scan Marc up and down, stopping on his arm, which was tinged with blood from what appeared to be claw marks; his breath caught painfully in his throat.

"You're hurt."

Usually, he'd hate how upset he sounded, but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care because Marc was hurt. He'd failed in protecting him, Marc was hurt, was Steven hurt, Marc was hurtMarcwashurtMarcwashurt

"Hey, you okay mate?"

He blinked and looked up again, seeing Marc and Steven's twin concerned looks.

He met Marc's gaze, tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry." His voice was painfully hoarse.

Marc frowned while Steven tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"For what? Hiding yourself all these years?"

He flinched, taking in a shaky breath as he tried not to cry in front of his alters.

"You got hurt. I didn't get to you in time... I failed."

Marc's expression went blank for a good several seconds before he spoke again.

"I'm fine."

He shook his head wildly, ignoring how it made him feel dizzy; something wet was beginning to soak his shirt and jacket. "I failed. I'm supposed to protect you both and you got hurt because I wasn't fast enough. I-I have to protect you and I didn't and you got hurt-"

Some part of him dimly realized that he was freaking out and maybe being too intense for a first encounter but there was little he hated more than them getting hurt; he couldn't control the self-loathing anymore than he could control how protective he was; it was part of who he was.

He flinched when a hand was placed on his shoulder, eyes wild amidst his panic and anger at himself.

"Easy mate, breathe. It's okay, you saved us, we're okay. It would've been a lot worse had you not shown when you did."

His breath hitched and he bit his tongue to hold back a whine. His vision cleared a bit and he saw Steven standing in front of him, hand still on his shoulder even though he'd flinched. There was an earnest expression and a gentle smile on his face.

Marc's expression was very different, more confused and cautious, as if he still couldn't comprehend someone being upset if he was hurt but didn't want to upset him further, though he didn't hesitate to agree with Steven.

"What uh what's your name?"

He gave a slightly-hesitant smile. "Jake. Jake Lockley."

He suddenly swayed where he stood, Steven and Marc's expressions suddenly twisting with worry and concern.

"Woah, easy mate."

His legs gave out as he abruptly realized why his left side felt wet.

Marc and Steven crowded him, calling his name in near-frantic tones; he almost smiled at them being concerned about him but he was more focused on something else. "I... like the way my name sounds... coming from you two." He gave a pained laugh as his vision swam again, their words sounding like they were coming from under water.

He was certain that he'd be fine, this was all in the headspace and either way, he had the suit... not that they knew that; he was certain that once they learned, once he healed and they saw, they'd hate him; as long as they were safe, he could tell himself he didn't care; he was a terrible liar.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 15

Bucky

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Tony throws a party, bucky returns

Warnings: kissing, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It's been nearly six months since I escaped HYDRA a second time, and since then all me and Steve have done is have sex. It's glorious, the freedom (and the pleasure) that comes with being with Steve, and I love him more and more every day. He told me he loved me about a months ago, over a candle-lit dinner and a bunch of roses. It was so sweet, but I am yet to say the words back to him. Well, not that I've been talking much, per say.

My voice was slowly returning, yet I still couldn't string together more than two words and my voice was far from being strong or sounding like it used to.

Bruce had miraculous found some medication that helped, and abashedly admitted that if the sex was helping me make any noise, it should continue.

One of the main issues, is that almost everyone except my dad had been walking on eggshells around me for months. And in new exactly why. It's because they're yet to bring him the soldier.

And if I'm being a hundred percent honest, I'm slightly happy they haven't yet. After all, I don't know if I could bury my feelings towards him and that wouldn't be fair to Steve. And yet in being fair to Steve, I was being cruel to the soldier. After all, to make Steve comfortable, I'm mentally condemning the soldier to continue the horrid and violent lifestyle that comes with HYDRA.

I shake the overcrowding thoughts off, resetting my stance before landing a pinch to the bag.

"Good." Steve praises, stood beside the swinging bag with his arms crossed over his chest. I continue to punch it hard, focusing more on the strength than the technique as I try and will away the flurries thoughts in my mind. "Why don't we try that thing you always get wrong?" Steve asks, almost mockingly. I shoot him a glare. He chuckled, unwrapping my fists for my before bringing me over to the table where our water sat. I took a big pull of the refreshing liquid, barely paying attention as Steve readies the targets.

When I saunter over, he hands me a set of small, but agile, blades before stepping away. I clear my throat, putting myself into the correct stance before giving my boyfriend a nod. Steve nods back, pressing the button before the human-shaped targets begin to move. They're staggered, the last one so far back I can never seem to hit the bullseye. No matter how many times a I try - which is at least once a day - I can never hit it.

The aim is to hit the targets in order of closest to furthest, burying the blade in the mannequins' chests where the red dots it. I take a deep breath, letting my wrist fall loose. I release the blade of my exhale, watching with narrowed eyes as it sinks itself into the black dummy's chest. I let out a breath I was holding, moving onto the next one. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Onto the last target, my vision focused, my mind centred on the farther and the target only.

Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Throw.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, before my hand quickly flys to my mouth, slapping over my lips in shock. It was almost cartoonish, the way Steve's eyes widened like a deer in headlights before the brightest, wolfish grin became his lips.

The knife had wizzed through the air, breezing past the other targets before the tip was piercing smoothly through the little red dot at its heart. Bullseye.

"Holy shit." I repeat, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth up. Steve rushed forward, engulfing my knees a bone-crushing hug before lifting me from the ground and spinning around with me in his arms.

"You spoke!" He rejoiced.

"I can talk! My voice - it's back!" I was starstruck, completely and utterly speechless. I can talk.

"Holy shit indeed." A voice came from behind us.

"Tony." Steve greeted as he let me down, my feet already carrying me across the room until I was enveloped in my dad's arms too.

"We should celebrate. I'm throwing you a party." Tony decided, placing a kiss to my hair. "Tonight. Wear something nice, both of you." He pulled away, looking pointedly at me and Steve before retreating with a smile.

...

I stood before my mirror, hands smoothing over the dark blue fabric laying over my hips. I breathed deeply, head tilting to the side as I studied myself. I wore a silky blue dress that cling to my waist and fell elegantly down from my hips, hitting my ankles and presenting a thigh-high slit on one side. The dress barely had a back, the front showing just enough cleavage to be considered teasing. Around my neck I wore a necklace steve had given me the night he told me he loved me, and I couldn't help but breath out a laugh at the small silver Captain America shield charm hanging from it. I wore some shoes I new I'd regret - trainers. Plain, white canvas shoes that totally ruined the look. But I'd never worn heels before, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself at my own party.

My hair fell over my shoulders in loose curls, make up simple as I never tended to wear any anyway.

I took a deep breath, opening my room door to be greeted by Steve. He was dashing, clad in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slightly messy bit in a hot way, and his blue eyes gleaming.

"You look breathtaking, doll." He commented, eyes scanning over my body, clearly lingering on the slit in my dress. I smirked slightly, looping my arm with his outstretched one.

"You look rather handsome yourself." I smiled sweetly, not missing the way steve held back a laugh when he finally noticed my choice of footwear. "Hey!" I laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"I'm sorry, doll. I just didn't quite expect it." He sniggered, making me scoff and roll my eyes.

"And what did you expect? Three foot tall, strappy heels? When have you even seen me in anything besides trainers or tactical boots, Rogers?" I asked pointedly, shutting Steve up. When we reached the main room when my part was already in full swing, Steve pulled my close to him, coaxing a gasp from my lips.

"And where would you be hiding your knives tonight?" Steve murmured in my ear, nibbling on the lob as his arm kept me firmly pressed against him. It was a little joke we'd formed, as every time I was out in public steve managed to find a knife on me somewhere - in a pocket, down my bra, tucked into the waistband of whatever I was wearing, you name it. To anyone else, we simple looked to be having a normal conversation like any couple would've, but it was much more than that. I assumed in his question Steve was referring to my backless dress that hung so low there's no way I'd even find a way to wear underwear with it. So I went without.

"If tonight goes how I'm planning, you'll have plenty of time to find out for yourself." I whispered against his neck, smirking when his adam's apple bobbed. I sauntered away slowly, making sure my hips swayed as I walked.

The party flew by, people I could hardly remember greeting me and telling me how much they'd missed me as if they'd been some kind of surrogate mother or something to me.

That's where I currently found myself, a fake smile so big it was probably obvious plastered over my face as I nodded along whenever May said something. Peter stood beside her, champagne flute that I just new was filled with appletiser clutched in his hand, smirk hidden behind the rim of the glass at my pained expression.

"So how long have you been home?" May asked, smile so genuine it was embarrassing how fake my own was.

"Only about six months." I smiled back, eyes darting around the room nervously looking for an escape.

"Six months?! You should've met up with Peter sooner! You would've hung out with her, right Peter?" May exclaimed, turning to her nephew who was clearly trying to hold back a snigger as he answered with a quick 'of course'. I sent him a glare that briskly morphed back into a smile the second May was turned my way again.

The smile turned much more real the second I saw my dad climb up onto the table across the room, glass and spoon in his hands. May and Peter spun to look at him along with everyone else in the room when the captivating sound of the metal clanging gracefully against the champagne flue echoed in the room.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Tony called, chatter diminishing in the crowd at his voice. A smile - an actual smile - graced my lips when I realised he was making a speech about me being home. "I'm just here tonight, talking to you all, about my daughter!" Tony began, a small applause following as many pairs of eyes sought for me in the crown.

"You know, the day I found you laying on my doorstep," he stated, taking a swig of his drink, "I thought: how the hell am I gonna raise this stupid ass kid that's been dumped on my like some sort of...animal." I gasped, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thought we were past this- this hate. "This fucking bastard that's come from the filthy streets."

"Tony, that's enough." Nat says from where she stood beside the table, tugging the man's ankle in an attempt to get him down.

"You're drunk." Steve stated from beside him, anger written over his usually perfect features.

"It's all you! It's you, y/n!" He shouted.

"Dad.." I mumbled through my tears, every head in the room locked on my as my bottom lips wobbled aggressively.

"You killed me the day you showed up, and ever day I see you I realise how much I regret taking you in, raising you as my own." He spat with a venom I'd never heard in my dad's voice before.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, but he merely pushed the super soldier's words aside.

"You're not special, y/n! And you never were! Just a Thorne in my side," he explained, climbing down from the table with a slight drunken wobble. "That's why I picked Peter. Smart, agile, unique." He rambled on, making his was through the sea of people that parted instantly for him until he was right in front of me, Peter and May. "So why don't you make this easy, and don't make me chose between you a second time." Tony claimed.

"What? Because you'd chose him?" I sobbed, hand covering my mouth as I bit back the tears.

"Tony, don't!" Steve snapped, now at my side and holding his hands on my hips possessively.

"If you chose him over you're own daughter, Tony...I swear to god somebody better hide you in the time it takes me to find a gun." Nat glared, standing to my side with a wicked look in her eyes.

"Y/n is your daughter." Bruce tried to reason, flinching away when Tony shot him a look that could kill.

"Yeah, I'd chose him." Tony finally settles, silence ensuing after the piercing shatter of a glass broke the room. May stood there, broken glass at her feet and mouth open so wide her jaw must've physically hurt.

"Y/n, I- I am so sorry.." Peter barely whispered from beside May, his own face red from a mixture of threatening tears and embarrassment. I have Tony a dirty look, leaning forward slightly and spitting at the ground in front of him.

"Fuck you." I bit like a viper, spinning harshly on my heel and storming from the room, trying so hard to hide my tears until I was out of sight.

Once I'd reached the stairs, I was kicking my heels off and springing up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, I clutched the railing for a second as if to ground myself as a sob ripped through me, my palm covering my mouth again as if it could stop the sounds. I padded quickly across the carpeted floor, fumbling with the handle of my door before pushing it open blindly, stumbling inside.

A sharp gasp was stolen from me when I walked in, more tears clouding my eyes. I hastily swiped them away with my palms, desperate to get a good look of the man before me. His cerulean eyes, long and thick dark hair, his undeniably visible metal arm...

Then his lips met mine. Not desperate or hard like usual, but gentle and slow, as if I would shatter to a thousand pieces if he even held my soft face with too much pressure. "Y/n." he said seriously, but a small smile still glistening in his deep blue eyes. "Soldier." I responded, reflecting his playful seriousness. He pulled me in for another passionate kiss, my whole body relishing in its tenderness. The soldier bought his mouth next to my ear, leaning over me and holding my waist carefully. My thoughts raced one another over and over, but there was always a clear winner: I had him back.

His compassionate whisper floated past my ear, dancing around the loose curls of hair that were tucked messily behind my ear, a whirlwind of emotions tunnelling through me, allowing the butterflies to roam free as he murmured "It's Bucky, by the way."

"We're done."

A frown settled across my face, my head snapping the the side to see Steve stood gobsmacked and clearly hurt in the door. He must've followed me, to make sure I was alright and now he's seen this, and - how long had he been standing there?

"Steve, it's not what it looks like." Bucky tried, now also looking at the Super Soldier.

"So it's not my best friend kissing my girl? Hm?" Steve almost whimpered, as if the words physically hurt him to say.

"Well, yes, but-"

"No. No buts. I don't give a shit what you have to say." Steve interjected me, the harshness of his voice cutting through me like a knife. "Have a nice fucking life." He spat, before turning and retreating out of the door. I started wistfully after him, before glancing back to Bucky and opening my mouth to speak.

"Go. I'll talk to you later." He answered for me, a reassuring glint in his blue-grey eyes. I gave him a small nod and a grateful smile before instantly running after Steve.

"Steve! Steve, wait!" I called after him, but the man's strides were so damn long I couldn't catch up to him even whilst running. "Please, let me explain!" He turned around at that, my body colliding with the wall of muscle that was his torso.

"What's there to explain, y/n?" He said, defeated.

"I- I don't really know. I just don't want to lose you." I murmured, placing my hands of his chest and looking up at the man through my lashes. He wrapped his hands around my wrists before yanking them away from his chest, tears stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Steve." I whispered, for the first time. Steve averted his gaze with a frustrated sigh.

"It's a little too late for that. You can tell Bucky he won't be hearing from me either." Steve spoke, dropping my wrists and turning to leave again. I didn't follow him this time, I didn't call after him, I just sunk to my knees, head in my hands, and cried.

[harryspet]

little doe [5] peter parker

[Warnings] peter parker x oc, multiverse oc, fluff, angst, filler chapter, mentions of needles, little editing

A/N: This is going to be the second to last chapter in this series! The support on this story has been great and every like, reblog or comment really makes my heart all warm and fuzzy. 

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

In which a kiss makes her forget her pain. 

word count: 2.2k

2 MONTHS LATER

“It seems the pills are keeping all her vitals normal,” Pepper unstrapped the blood pressure device from around Doe’s arm. Doe wasn’t sure what all the devices were for but Peter had insisted that Pepper was just making sure she was healthy, “Blood pressure is normal, temperature is higher than average but that’s to be expected. You’re a very healthy girl, Doe.”

Doe grinned, understanding that she had passed whatever test was just given to her. Pepper handed her a blue lollipop and Doe eagerly accepted it, popping it into her mouth. It was Doe’s first time back at Stark Labs and it made her wonder how her life could’ve changed so much in three months. 

“How is she at home? How are her powers?” Pepper asked Peter who was leaned against the wall. The small white office was starting to make him feel a bit claustrophobic. Peter felt a bit anxious which he hated since he knew that Pepper would never hurt her. Still, he felt overly protective whenever Doe left the safety of his apartment. 

“She’s great at home. The beginning was a little rough but we’ve gotten to know each other,” Peter’s eyes raked in Doe’s appearance, how she’d insisted on wearing that bright blue dress that she claimed made her feel like royalty. She turned heads whenever they were in public but it was best for Peter to let her be, “And her powers … it’s clear they’re much stronger when she’s sad or angry.”

“Ah,” Pepper had a light bulb go off above her head, “A true drama queen. I’ve had people doing some research, trying to narrow down what version of earth she might hail from but, without Fury’s top-secret information, I doubt we’ll have much luck.”

Peter tensed up at the mention of Fury, his arms crossed, “You’re not thinking about contacting him, right?”

Pepper sighed, “No, Doe is adjusting well so I don’t see a need to. You’re doing a good job, Peter, I know it must be stressful,” Peter was usually hypercritical of himself and, even though he knew Doe was happy, he still couldn’t help but feel like he’d made mistakes, “Could you hold onto her? I’m going to have someone draw her blood so we can test it and make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

Peter nodded, moving from the wall to where Doe was sitting on the lab table. Pepper grabbed her clipboard and filed out of the room. 

“I did good, Peter?” Doe asked, her English having improved astronomically with MJ teaching her all the time. 

“You did,” Peter assured her, “But we have to do one more thing before we go home. One of the scientists is going to take your blood. That means they have to prick you with a needle.”

“It will hurt?” Peter nodded, tucking a strand of her bright hair behind her ear, “I no want to.”

“You have to. It’s to make sure you’re healthy so you can keep staying with Peter.”

Doe thought it over but she wasn’t fully convinced and soon there was a man in a lab coat that entered the room, “Stay still, okay?” Peter grabbed ahold of Doe’s hand as the man began the short procedure.

Doe’s heart began to race as the man tied the band around her forearm. She began to panic even more as she saw the needle, “No, no, no can’t, Peter! Peter, no!”

The man flashed Peter a concerned look and Peter continued to try to console Doe but she had shut her eyes tight, “Peter! Peter! No, no, no-” Peter smashed his lips onto hers and she stopped her tantrum immediately. He felt Doe’s body relax and Peter held her lips on his as the man pricked her arm with the needle. 

Peter pulled away when her blood had filled the vial. Doe blinked, staring up at Peter in a daze before looking down at her arm. The man was about to open a band-aid when Doe interjected, “Pink color, please?”

The man grinned before picking out the neon pink band-daid, placing it down on where the blood was just drawn, “There you go, dear.”

“Thank you, please. Sorry for yell,” Doe apologized, happily gazing at her new band-aid. All of her little mannerisms made Peter blush. 

As soon as the man left the room, Doe pulled Peter in again for another kiss. He stood between her legs as her lips moved against his. She felt him reach between the waistband of his pants and he had to grab her hand to stop her before she began something that Peter would have to finish. 

“Not here,” Peter rushed out and Doe pouted. Another thing that she couldn’t wrap her mind around was that they couldn’t do certain things in public, “Let’s go home, Doe.”

+

Their trip to Stark Labs lasted longer than Peter initially anticipated and it was dark out by the time they made it to his side of town. Peter shifted the vehicle into park, looking over into the passenger seat to see that Doe was close to dozing off. He looked around the almost empty parking garage and got an eerie feeling. 

“Stay here,” Peter whispered but Doe only moaned something tiredly, nuzzling into her leather chair. Peter opened his door slowly, wanting to take a look around. 

Peter took a few steps and the feeling he had got even worse. He gripped his emergency web-shooters as the sound of screeching tires flooded his ears. A series of black escalades appeared from nowhere, circling their car in the empty parking lot. 

Peter wasn’t worried about taking them down, he could easily do that with his superhuman strength. He was worried because he knew exactly who was going to step from that black car. 

“Look who I’ve run into,” Fury spoke, his usual ‘I am all-knowing’ look on his face, “Peter Parker.”

Peter’s lips pressed into a thin line, “What do you need, Fury?” He wouldn’t have made such a big entrance if he didn’t have some life-altering news for him. 

“Fine, I won’t beat around the bush,” He adjusted his jacket, looking over Peter’s tense appearance, “I think you’ve left some big information out in the last few calls we’ve had.”

Peter shook his head, his arms crossed as he pretended to search his memory, “No, I don’t think so.”

“You’ve grown a lot the last few years,” Peter knew already that he wasn’t the same bumbling, innocent boy he used to be. “I admire that about you but I think you’ve gotten a little too big for your britches. You’re dealing with something you couldn’t possibly understand the future ramifications of.”

Over the last two months, Peter had thought a lot about this very conversation and the future he wanted with Doe. They had only known each other for a short amount of time but Peter already knew her. He knew what he wanted them to be.

“Peter?” His heart stopped as he heard her tired voice. Soon, that voice grew worried as she appeared from around the car, Peter was quick to be at her side. 

“Doe, go sit in the car,” Peter winced as the girl didn’t budge, looking past Peter’s shoulders to see Nick Fury standing idly by. 

“Bad guy?” Doe asked, an otherworldly power was dancing on Doe’s fingertips and she was ready to protect Peter at all cost. 

“No, not a bad guy-”

“Multiverse Being #165, believed to be from Earth version 482,” Fury interrupted and Peter turned, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “But it seems Peter has given you a new name. It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

Peter grabbed her hand as Doe moved to stand beside him, “M-My name is Doe.”

Fury’s eyes wandered to wear their hands held each other, “I can tell she’s adjusting well.”

“She’s not going anywhere, Fury, if that’s what you’re here for,” Peter stated firmly, “And she won’t be apart of whatever scheme you’re planning next.”

“I don’t plan schemes, Parker. Everything I do is for the benefit of the entire planet.”

“And everything I do from now on is for her,” Doe looked up at Peter, not catching every detail of the conversation but understanding how serious the conversation was. Even when she had caused trouble around the apartment, she had never seen him this tense, “So I decide what happens.”

“And if earth needs her? For the greater good?”

“I decide,” Peter stated again, knowing it would be a long time before she was ready for anything like that, “If she trains if she doesn’t. Just trust me, Fury.”

Fury thought for a moment. Although he was constantly questioning Stark’s decision to trust him, Fury decided to back down, “Remember I got my eye on you, Parker.” After an intense staring contest, Fury was off and Peter had won for now. 

Doe stared up at Peter and as he saw that same innocence in her eyes, he squeezed her hand tightly. 

+

Doe despised Peter’s video games. Especially when Ned would come over and they’d sit on the couch for four hours straight playing them. Doe’s love and attention meter dwindled by the second but she couldn’t do what she normally did. If she threw a tantrum she wouldn’t get a sticker on her “Good Behavior Chart”. 

She stared up at the fridge where it was displayed in all its glitter and construction paper letters. She could get a reward at the end of each week for having good behavior every day and today was day seven. 

As the clock above the stove turned to midnight, Doe grabbed the chart off the fridge and marched into the living room where Peter was still playing a video game, “Peter,” She called his name, knowing he couldn’t hear her through his headphone, “Peterrrrr.”

As Doe came into a view, Peter quickly shouted, “Just one more game and then I’ll tuck you in. One more.”

Doe’s shoulders fell before a light bulb went off in her mind. Since today was technically over, she didn’t have to be on her best behavior anymore. Doe took a seat by Peter who was playing shirtless and in his boxers. She set the chart to the side before crawling beneath his arms and into his lap. 

She nuzzled her face into his neck, her hands running over his strong chest and then his biceps, causing Peter to pause the game. Doe grinned as Peter set his controller to the side, and she straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands slid over her bottom, gripping the flesh there as she leaned in to kiss him. 

Peter had already closed his eyes and when their lips never met, he opened his eyes, “Sticker please?”

Peter’s head tilted back in realization, “You tricked me!”

Doe giggled, grabbing the chart to show him, “No trick. Peter and video game is bad. Peter and Doe is good . . . Doe and sticker is very very good.”

“Fine, you’re the boss,” Peter complied, swooping Doe up as he stood from the couch, “I guess you’ve been a good girl all week … if you don’t count the smoothie incident.” Doe pouted, thinking back to how she didn’t know you had to put the top on the blender. The smoothie still ended up tasting good which was all that mattered to her. 

Peter carried her into the kitchen and set her down onto the counter as he began ruffling through drawers, “Ah, here they are,” He opened one to find an assortment of stickers, “Which one do you want?”

This was Doe’s favorite part and she had practically ranked them all for her favorite to least favorite. She pointed to one shaped like a rainbow and Peter proceeded to place it onto the Sunday square. Doe clapped in excitement, knowing she was only a week away from filling up the entire month. 

“Gift now?” She asked, biting down on her bottom lip, as Peter placed the chart back on the fridge. 

Peter yawned, “What would you like this week?”

“Sex.”

Peter’s mouth parted in surprise, “What?”

“Like Game of Thrones.”

Peter blinked, confusion evident in his expression, “When have you been watching Game of Thrones?”

“MJ watch with me. She like when people-” Doe made the motion of a knife being stabbed into her stomach. Peter grabbed her hands, pulling them back away from her stomach. 

Peter shook his head in disbelief, “I really need to change the locks and you shouldn’t be watching shows like that.”

“Sex is bad? But we do sex-”

“Yes but-” Peter cut himself off as his thoughts interrupted him, “It’s just different, Doe. And we do a lot of things but we haven’t actually ... “ It was a line that Peter had yet to cross and he was still quite satisfied with what they already had. 

“Peter?” Doe held his face in her hand, wanting him to reassure her. 

“The first time you have sex … it might hurt and I-I don’t wanna hurt you, Doe.”

Doe’s face softened at the look of worry in his eyes, “Like the nee-dle?”

Peter nodded slowly, “Kinda like that, yeah.”

“Then Peter will kiss Doe and make feel better,” Doe grinned and a smile stretched on Peter’s face as his eyes lit up with happiness. Doe leaned into him and Peter did the same. The touch of their lips sent sparks through them and fireworks seemed to explode in the kitchen. 

As Peter pulled away to catch his breath, he stared at the beautiful creature before him with gratitude, “I love you,” He thought his heart my race or that he’d sweat nervously but Peter had never been more sure of something. 

“I … I different kind of love Peter.”

+

Hope you enjoyed this! If you have an idea for something you wanna see in the last chapter then feel free to send me an ask!

[smg4andbeetlejuicefanatic]

A Smile in Stone

Summary: Thanks to him, Captain’s (and Benjamin’s) life is saved. But what has become of their rescuer?

A/N: Tbh idk why I wrote this, but I hope y’all enjoy it nonetheless. This is just a short one-shot with @infini-tree’s Sticky Notes AU characters. Why them? Idk that either lol.

SLAM!

George, Harold, and Edith winced at the sight of Cap being thrown into a wall.

“Man, Benjamin’s really gonna hate me for this later.” the hero whispered to himself, knowing he, or rather Benjamin, would feel very sore later.

As you can probably tell, Cap wasn’t winning this fight.

His opponent cackled. “What’s wrong, o mighty Captain Underpants? Can’t take a few punches?” the mad scientist with the funny accent teased. He punched the waistband warrior with his mech and again sent him into the wall, this time face-first. After a little stumble backwards, he fell to his knees. Poopypants’ statement was half right: he couldn’t take much more.

“Looks like the brave hero is finally defeated.”

Cap cringed. He hated that word.

“NO!” he shouted, trying stand up. He managed to despite the pain from the bruises. “I haven’t! I just need a little time to lick my wounds before defeating YOU!”

“Hmm, you probably do.” Poopypants responded. “Too bad you won’t be getting that time. Or any time at all!”

Before Cap could respond with something witty, Poopypants pressed a button on the control panel of his mech, and a big weapon extended from the mech’s chest. It looked kind of like a big nerf gun, and it was aimed straight at Cap.

“May I introduce you to the Granitizer 2000?” the small man asked with a grin. “It’s specifically built to turn YOU...into STONE! Then I won’t have to deal with you anymore!”

George, Harold, and Edith gasped in horror.

“You’re going to turn me into granite?!” Cap asked, eyes wide.

“No, just regular old stone. The name is misleading, but it sounds cool, right?” Poopypants answered.

He then pressed the same button and the Granitizer began to charge up. Cap tried to fight but he was pushed to the ground by one of the mech’s hands, and it hurt. That combined with the pain from the bruises and scrapes all over made him unable to get back up.

“CAP NO!” Harold shouted. “YOU HAVE TO GET BACK UP! YOU CAN’T LET HIM WIN!” George prevented him from running into the midst with their caped friend.

Then, unexpectedly and without warning, someone dashed past the boys and Edith, startling them. The person ran straight for Cap and pushed him out of the way just before the Granitizer fired.

Everything was now quiet, and a cloud of dust covered the scene.

Benjamin groaned. Cap had landed in a conveniently placed puddle nearby after being pushed, and now...well, you know.

As the principal began to pick himself up, he dried off with his alter ego’s cape and covered himself with it and replaced the hero’s famous grin with his less-than-happy expression.

That expression changed when he turned around.

He was now face-to-face with a man encased in stone.

George, Harold, Edith, and even Poopypants all had shocked expressions.

It was an understatement to say Benjamin was shocked as well.

He was downright horrified.

He knew this man.

This man was his brother.

And he was smiling.

His younger brother, who he barely ever talks to, somehow got himself turned into a statue and was smiling.

But why was he smiling? Why was he happy?

Benjamin couldn’t understand it. He wasn’t even sure he could process it.

But he wanted answers. And one way or another, he’d get them.

[wyofabdoms]

Ten Days- Day Three

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, medical inaccuracies, swearing, soft Javi

Word Count: 1917

Note: Javi gets himself into a bit of a situation.  

Read the full series on Ao3

Late Sunday afternoon you find yourself glancing at the clock for what feels like the ten thousandth time.  You haven't heard a peep from your partner since you left his apartment mid morning yesterday.  He knows where you live and has your number...if he needed something surely he would have called you.  He’d changed his own bandages yesterday (albeit badly), and could obviously move around his apartment if he needed to.  For the better part of your day, you had bandied about the idea of just not showing up at his apartment at all.  Why should you serve him up the opportunity to continue this stupid power game; this one pill, one kiss arrangement?  

You had expected to make him the deal the first night, then figured he would see reason and be an adult and take the antibiotic on his own to prevent infection like any other normal human healing from a gunshot wound. You had assumed it would just be that first kiss; using his attraction to you to get him to do what you wanted.   But, you’d been stupid.  You’d let him alter the terms. Now you knew he would never let you hear the end of it if you reneged on your part of the deal.  His little stunt yesterday with the chair and his tongue made it clear that he not only enjoyed the prospect of 8 more opportunities to kiss you, but that he would most likely turn up the intensity each day.  That particular thought made something deep within you spark and unfurl, tightening in your lower belly and sending a shiver up your spine.

Truthfully, you hadn’t exactly hated those two kisses.  You had found yourself wandering aimlessly around your apartment several times today, having started with a destination and goal in mind, but finding your thoughts wandering back to Javier and completely forgetting where you were headed or why by the time you got there.  Yesterday you had stormed back into your apartment and taken the longest cold shower of your life.  Your body seemed to think for itself as it reacted to the memories of Javi’s tongue, the feel of his mustache, his dark eyes peering at you, the feel of his toned muscles beneath your hand.  

If you went back to his apartment and he insisted on continuing with this, you weren’t entirely sure your resolve would be able to convince your body not to give in to more with this maddening man.  That absolutely infuriated you....and excited you a little, too.

Finally, you looked at the clock; it read a quarter past 8.  You’d just go down quickly and make sure he had at least eaten something.  You’d keep your distance from him; there was no way in hell you’d let him catch you off guard today.

As soon as you enter his apartment, you know something isn’t right when you immediately notice his sidearm on the kitchen counter.  The apartment is dark; no muted flickers from the television, no lamps or lights streaming from the living room or kitchen.  You glance in his bedroom and small office and find them both dark and empty as well.  A chill run through you and you feel a small kernel of panic seed its cold shell in the pit of your stomach.  He knew better than to not have his weapon on his person or near him.  What the fuck, Peña?  Where the hell did you go?  You are about to race to your own apartment and alert the embassy when you notice the bathroom door ajar at the end of the hall.  You carefully nudge it open with your foot, one hand hovering over your own weapon at your hip.  

“Jesus, Peña!”  Your eyes widen as you take in your shirtless partner sprawled on the tile floor, his back propped against the side of the bathtub and legs stretched haphazardly in front of him, head tilted back against the porcelain and eyes closed.  Around him bits and pieces of torn and bloodied bandage and tape littered the floor, along with his shirt, the pill bottle of antibiotics, and what appeared to be the remaining contents of a first aid kit.  All of this is barely visible in the dark of the bathroom, the only source of light from the street light shining through the small window illuminating Javier’s face, making him look jaundiced. You quickly paw the wall for the light switch and your cold panic rises as you snap on the overhead light and take in your partner in full light.  

His face is grey and covered with a thin sheen of sweat.  His eyes come open for a moment and look towards you but then quickly close again against the harsh light and he lets his head thump back against the tub.  With the light on you are better able to see that the bandage at his side is merely held in place by his arm clenching against his stomach.  He must have been in the middle of changing it out when…

“What happened?!” You kneel next to him, grateful that he’s awake, but trying to piece together what exactly had led him to his present situation.  You gingerly move his arm out of the way, removing the untaped gauze and looking closely at his wound.  Though his stitches looked fine, the skin around the injury was bright red and swollen. “Why the hell are you trying to change your bandage in the dark?” 

“Wasn’t dark when I started.”  He bites out.  The sun had gone down several hours ago.  Your eyes flash up to his drawn face as realization hits you: he’s been here on the bathroom floor for more than three hours.  A pang of guilt shoots through your chest and you swallow hard.

You place the back of your hand on his forehead for a moment, then along the side of his face.  He sighs, eyes still closed, and leans into your touch like it’s a balm.  He doesn’t seem to be running a fever which is a good thing; the sweat must be from the exertion of trying to change the bandage. The doctors had warned that his injury might swell.  Assuring him you would be right back and ordering him not to move, you hurry to the kitchen to grab ice.  Sweeping the objects on the floor around him out of your way, you sit next to him and gently place the ice against his side.  He hisses in a sharp breath at the cold and jolts away, causing another stab of pain to his side and ripping a small groan of pain from his throat.  He knocks his head back against the tub three times (a little harder than you were completely comfortable with) and releases a long, growling sigh before stilling once more and taking a deep breath through his nose.

The two of you sit that way in silence for a long while, serenaded by the occasional sound of a passing car on the street, the slow drip of water coming from somewhere, and the sound of each other’s breathing echoing off of the tiles.  Silences between the two of you aren’t really new.  You have spent hours sometimes sitting in each other’s presence, not speaking but not really needing to as you pored over reports or studied files, content with the long stretches of affable silence.  You usually found silences with your partner reassuring.  Now, though, the silence that stretched between you was tarnished with your own guilt at having not checked on him sooner.  

You check your watch, confirming that enough time has passed to remove the ice.  The swelling seems to have gone down slightly, which is a good sign, but it was still more red than you would like.  You’d need to be sure he iced it again before the night was over.  Making sure the area is dry, you carefully collect the gauze and tape and set to work rebandaging his side.  Despite your worry for his well-being, you try not to notice the way the skin of his taut torso feels beneath your fingers or the trail of dark hair that adorns his lower stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.  You smooth the last piece of tape down and glance up, only to find that his head is no longer tilted back and he’s watching your face, his eyes soft.  Those brown eyes seem to seize your own and you can’t bring yourself to look away.  

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.  His eyes flash with a question.

“What for?”  You look down at your hands, folding them on your lap.  

“For not coming to check on you sooner.”  You force yourself to look back up at him.  “ I was...I dunno.  I was embarrassed, I guess.  Well, maybe not embarrassed...I was just…”  You take a deep breath.  “I was anxious after….after yesterday…” you let that trail off.  He knows what you mean.   He looks at you for a few moments longer, his face unreadable.  Then he breaks your gaze and reaches for the pill bottle on the floor next to him.  Your stomach drops as he spills a pill into his hand quickly and swallows it.  Without looking at you, he replaces the lid on the bottle, then reaches to take one of your hands with one of his.  He turns your hand palm up and draws it up to place it against his cheek, mirroring your earlier touch to his face.  Once again, he leans into your touch and closes his eyes, letting the seconds stretch and widen as he reveles in the feel of your skin against his, then he turns his face and places a soft kiss on the palm of your hand, holding his lips against your skin for several moments.  His eyes slip open and meet yours over the edge of your hand.  Your breath hitches softly when you see the longing and desire there.

As though in slow motion, he releases and returns your hand to its original spot on your lap, his eyes never leaving yours.  You sit stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do next.  

“Guess it’s a good thing I was motivated to take my meds, huh?  This all could have been a lot worse.” He gestures around at the mess of bandages and paraphernalia around you.  He sighs and slowly sits up straighter.  “I think I’m probably gonna need some help getting up and to the couch, though.”  You know your face shows the confusion you’re feeling.  Was that it?  He gets one kiss per pill and THAT’S what he uses today’s to do?  A tiny voice in the back of your head grumbles in disappointment, but you quickly smash that voice, snapping out of your thoughts and standing up, offering both hands down to help him get to his feet.  

When he’s standing in front of you, he grips your hands for a moment, keeping you closer than you know you should be.  Your guard goes up, ready to call him out for having already used his daily dose should he try to go in for another kiss.  He lifts your hands in his up in a gesture to bring your eyes up to meet his own. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says in response to your earlier apology.  “I knew you’d find me eventually.  You always do.”

Day One

Day Two

Day Four