#i wish it was a little more spars focused but i know they gotta keep up their mystique

[carcarrot]

has no one made an edited version of tsb thats like. just the sparks parts lol

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 3 - zuko x fem!reader

I feel so much, I get carried away

part 2 | masterlist | part 4

a/n: enjoy the fluff in this chapter bc its not gonna last

once again for reference - this chapter takes place 2 years after the last one so y/n is 11 and zuko is 12

warning(s): eating/food, but otherwise its pure fluff

wc: 3.3k

chapter title comes from carried away by madison beer!

i ran out of kid zuko gifs so i had to make my own smh if you want something done you gotta do it yourself

The young friendship only flourished after that fateful day. Zuko and Y/N began spending almost all of their freetime together between Y/N teaching him about her culture, their usual talking in the hallways, and finding ways to hang out together outside of her schedule. She was absolutely delighted to be teaching Zuko though, so she always made sure there was time for her self proclaimed academy.

Y/N was constantly busy around the castle, so in order to hang out they had started waking up extra early — the pair had become experts at sneaking around the castle with the first rays of the sun. The gardens were a favourite because of its availability, and of course, the turtleducks. It also gave Y/N a chance to bend outside of healing, something that they began to take advantage of as they got older.

Sparring sessions became a regular between them as a way for Y/N to get some practice with martial bending, Zuko to experience fighting against a waterbender, and just another way for them to spend time together. Of course, they had to keep it as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone of their presence, but that became the least of their worries over time.

They each pushed each other to be better, and with Y/N’s healing skills, they were able to walk away every morning without any injuries. But after discovering a very unfair advantage that the prince held, she decided that morning sparring just wasn’t enough.

(“Firebending gets stronger in the morning,” he had told her after a particularly brutal blast resulting in some emergency bending on Y/N’s part to extinguish a tree. “My teachers always say that we rise with the sun.”

“Well,” she had said with a smile. “We rise with the moon. You just signed yourself up for some late night sparring sessions.”)

Y/N had truly started to come into her own. It had been two years since her capture, and though she had in no way made peace with her life in the Fire Nation, she was trying to take advantage of it as much as she could. Even though she despised being at the beck and call of nobles and guards, she couldn’t deny the opportunities it gave her to hone her abilities. Her healing had improved tenfold and her martial bending wasn’t too shabby either. Between all of the time spent with Zuko and practicing her bending, she was able to distract herself from her dim reality.

But the world was a cruel, cruel place, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. It didn’t treat souls like Zuko and Y/N kindly, a fact that they would soon become aware of.

In the moment though, Y/N was more focused on not getting burnt.

She twirled to the side as a small flame shot past her, just barely managing to dodge it as she bent a stream of water out from the pond and sent it at Zuko. He turned it to steam as he blocked it with his own fire, which he then sent back at her with a combination of a punch and a kick. Y/N raised her hands and bent up a large wall of water from the pond, and with a small grunt on her part, sent it flying towards Zuko. He tried to conjure up his own fire shield in an effort to extinguish the water once more, but it was too little too late and he ended up getting knocked to the ground and completely drenched.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips as Zuko wiped water off of his face, sputtering incoherently while he pushed himself up. “Did you really have to do that?” he complained.

“You know I do.” She grinned as she walked around the pond to his side, cracking her knuckles before she began to bend the water out of his clothes. “This was in the morning, too. Admit it, I’m getting better!”

He cracked a smile of his own. “You really are. I just wish that you getting better didn’t end up in me getting soaked every time.”

She bent the water she had extracted from his clothes back into the pond and held out her hand to help him up from the ground, which he took gratefully. “That just makes it more fun.”

As she helped pull him up, Y/N found herself more than a little transfixed. The rays of the rising sun shone down on him perfectly, and the smile still on his lips made her feel flutter bats in her stomach.

Y/N didn’t know when she had started seeing Zuko in a different light than usual. When his laughs became melodious, his smile like a ray of sunshine on its own, his company coveted. While she was usually able to trade verbal jabs with him without a second thought, doing her self-assigned job of keeping him humble, something had changed in the past year.

They grew steadily closer over the years after they had met, but one event in particular all but pushed Zuko into her arms.

Ursa’s banishment.

Of course, they didn’t know that she had been banished. No one aside from Ozai knew the true nature of her disappearance — to her children and the other inhabitants of the palace, it was just that. A disappearance.

It was suspicious, yes. All in the span of a day, Princess Ursa vanished, Fire Lord Azulon mysteriously perished, and Ozai took his place, but nothing could be done. It was a somber day for every servant — Ursa showed them a kindness that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the palace, and to rub salt in the wound, a man just as cruel as Azulon had risen to the throne.

Zuko was devastated. He had always been close with his mother, and the only thing she had given him before leaving was a short goodbye and a kiss. He was angry beyond belief at the abandonment, and that anger overshadowed his grief.

Y/N tried to help him, but he lashed out at her.

“Your mother is still here and she loves you! Mine left me like I was nothing. Don’t try and say you know how I feel.”

“But my father is gone. I do know how you feel Zuko, and I want to help you, but I can’t help you if you keep pushing me away.”

“…you don’t know anything.”

It hurt, but she knew he needed space. She gave it to him, letting him brew alone and take out his anger however necessary, but let him know that the door was open when he was ready to talk.

He did — he had apologized for what he said and she accepted, and Zuko ended up spilling every emotion he had to her over the next few weeks. She listened, offered advice when she could, and made Zuko feel a little bit less alone in the scheme of it all. It was a horrible experience, but it brought them closer together, and the prince was eternally thankful that he had a friend to help him through the ordeal.

The night that he came to her room, admitting that he was hurting and asking for her help — Y/N thinks that was the moment she fell for him. She cursed herself at the time for developing feelings for her only friend in the palace, but over time she learned to cover them up. She had to remember her place.

She understood her role, but it got harder and harder to keep up with it the more time she spent with Zuko — this moment was no exception.

“Yeah, yeah. I just hold back because I don’t want to burn you.”

“Liar!” she exclaimed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “You forget that I can heal myself if anything goes wrong. Besides, I know you’d never burn me. I trust you.”

Zuko smiled and smoothed his clothes back down, the only sign of their sparring session now gone. “Good, because I trust you too. No matter how many times you totally drench me.”

She snorted as she started to walk back to the palace. “Like I said, that just makes it more fun. And as fun as it has been completely crushing you in combat, duty calls.”

He sighed, giving a reluctant nod as he started to follow her — then his eyes lit up, and he grabbed her arm to stop them. “Wait, how much work do you have today?”

Y/N thought for a few seconds then shrugged. “Dunno, it varies. I got stuck working with Jaysa all this morning, so that’s going to take forever, I have my usual healing lessons with Master Rika after, and then I usually just end up going around with whatever else comes my way for the rest of the day.” She grinned and lowered her voice as if the subject of the matter could somehow hear her. “I’ve been working on a dress for my mother in secret because her birthday is coming up soon, so the free time I get between my shifts that isn’t spent with you has been going towards that.”

Zuko gaped. “You’re making her a dress all on your own, with no help? How?”

She held up her hands with a proud smile. “These things are good for waterbending, sewing, and hitting best friends.”

He gave her a sideways grin at that. “I’m your best friend?”

Y/N snickered and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dummy. You’re like, the only person that likes me in this whole nation. Of course you’re my best friend.”

“Well…” he started. “Would a best friend like to break the rules even more tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in turn, completely betraying her excitement despite her attempt to look nonchalant about it. “That depends — what d’you have in mind?”

He grinned and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper as he spoke in her ear. “So, after you finish work for the night, we…”

-

It was a struggle to get through all of her work after the plan that she and Zuko had formulated — sure, they broke the rules all the time. The basis of their entire friendship was breaking the rules, but this was going farther than they ever had before. Y/N wasn’t thinking about the consequences though, she was thinking about the journey — that was her first mistake.

She had rushed through all of her chores with Jaysa, hardly paid attention in her healing lessons, and made quick work of the rest of her day until she was finally able to meet up with Zuko at one of the various servant entrances that she had shown him.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, his body buzzing with nervous energy. “I thought you were never gonna come.”

“Some of us actually have work to get done, mister crown prince,” she joked as she bumped his shoulder with hers. “But that doesn’t matter — let’s get going before someone catches us! I don’t want it to get too dark either.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Zuko reassured. “My dad is in war meetings all day, no one is going to catch us. Now come on!”

Zuko pushed open the door, grabbed her hand, and began to pull her along. A laugh fell from her lips as they ran, unable to stop herself from casting a cautionary glance behind them as they got farther from the palace. Y/N tried to push her worries out of her mind — like she had told Zuko earlier, she trusted him.

That was her second mistake.

It was surprisingly easy to sneak past the guards around the wall and just as quick to get through Royal Caldera, and before Y/N knew it, they had arrived in the city.

It was nothing like she had ever seen before.

The village she had grown up in was miniscule compared to anything in the Fire Nation, and she was especially awestruck upon entering the city. As home to more middle class citizens than anything, it was a bustling marketplace filled with workers and nobles alike — if she hadn’t been preoccupied with the stars in her eyes, she would’ve been able to see the way Zuko was absolutely beaming at her.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand once again as he began to walk — at a much more moderate pace than their run here — down the streets. “There’s so much here that I wanna show you. Have you ever been out here?”

She shook her head, allowing herself to gawk at her surroundings while they went down the street. “We aren’t really allowed to leave the palace since we’re technically still prisoners, just… ones that work. My mother always had to give her money to one of the other servants so that when they went out to buy their things, they could pick some stuff up for us as well. This is all totally new.”

Once again, a frown found its way onto Zuko’s face, but only for a split second before he pointed at a stall opposite to them. “Oh— there’s a fruit stand! Come on, you have to try this.”

Y/N let Zuko pull her over to the stand, looking at the array of fruits on display while Zuko conversed with the merchant. A few silver pieces later and they were walking away with a basket of produce — miraculously, the prince hadn’t been recognized, so she figured he wouldn’t need a disguise. Third mistake.

“Here,” he said, offering her a mango from the basket. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Fire Nation mango.”

She took the fruit from him and bit into it, her eyes immediately widening as she turned on Zuko. “Tui’s gills, this is delicious! You’re telling me that you people just have this on hand but we don’t get any of it?”

He shrugged and took a fig from the basket as Y/N wiped some juice off of her chin. “There’s a reason I’ve helped you break into the kitchens so many times. Now, where do you wanna go next?”

-

The pair spent the next couple of hours browsing the marketplace, enjoying their day on the Fire Lord’s coin. Zuko was more than happy to show Y/N parts of his culture after all she had taught him, and she was more than happy to experience it. They had been able to buy lanterns for the upcoming Festival of Szeto, purchase their own blends of tea leaves, and of course Zuko insisted on getting fire flakes and gummies.

(Y/N thought he was insane. Why in the world would the Fire Nation want to make food that hurt them on purpose? She was going to stick with her newfound love for mangoes.)

But Zuko hadn’t even brought her to the best part yet.

“Can I open my eyes now?” She asked, her anxious tone betraying her curiosity.

“Now you can.” Y/N was met with Zuko’s grin and as she focused on the stand in front of them, she had to make a conscious effort to not gape.

Zuko had brought her to a sewing stand with all the threads, fabrics, and silks that she could dream of in all kinds of colors. She immediately rushed forward, unable to stop herself from running her hands over and through each and every piece of material — she was in a seamstress’s heaven.

“I take that as a sign you like it?” Zuko asked happily.

“Oh, definitely,” she confirmed, still completely caught up in all the choices. “This is so much better than all the material we’re given to work with!”

“That’s why I brought you here. I thought you could get some stuff for yourself, and some stuff to help with the dress you’re making for your mom. I don’t really know how sewing works, but I thought that this was one way I could help.”

“That is so sweet of you!” she gushed. “Thank you so much — you should probably get around to some of the other stalls because I… I think I’m gonna be here for a while.”

Zuko laughed and fished out of a couple of golden pieces then set them in her hand. “That’s okay. I’ll meet you over by the steps; we can watch the sunset together.”

They nodded as parting gifts and each was enveloped in their tasks; Y/N beginning to ask the merchant questions about everything at their stand and Zuko off to entertain himself for a few more minutes.

Soon enough, Y/N had her own small bundle of silks and fabrics, her mind already going off in a million different ways of how she could incorporate it into the design. She found Zuko sitting on the steps and as she took her own seat next to him, he handed her another mango.

“Did you find everything you wanted?” She nodded and hummed gratefully as she accepted the fruit, taking a bite as her eyes fell on the skyline in front of them.

“I had a really great time today, Zuko. I really can’t thank you enough for taking me out here. I… I think I forgot what it was like to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“...happy.” She paused for a second before allowing herself to meet his eyes. “All the time I spend with you in the palace… It’s one of the only times that I really do feel happy. And being out here today, getting to walk around where I wanted and buy things and just— I feel free, Zuko. And that means everything to me.”

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and she turned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that—“

Zuko gently reached out for her hand, drawing her attention back to him and the soft smile on his face.

“Well… I care about you. You’re nice to me, and you take time out of your day to help me which you don’t have to do. This is just me trying to pay you back for all you’ve done to help me. We can do this more often — whenever my dad’s busy.”

Her own smile grew on her lips and she nodded as she laced her fingers with his. “I care about you too. And.. I’d like that.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder and together, they watched the sunset over the city.

There was no place either of them would rather be.

-

Y/N and Zuko made their way back to the palace as quickly as they could after realizing how late it had gotten. Y/N was sure that she was going to get the talking-to of her life after what she had done, but she was almost giddy after what had just happened. She could deal with any of Kura’s consequences later — right now the only thought in her mind was the feeling of Zuko’s hand in hers.

The night had been nothing short of perfect. She had felt freer than ever before out there in the city with Zuko, and knowing that he reciprocated the feelings she had for him was enough to make her heart burst. She cared for him, and he cared for her.

Of course, there was that nagging question of how they would continue now that their friendship had morphed into something more, but once again — it was something she would deal with later. Her fourth and final mistake.

But as a guard turned the corner, Y/N realized she might not get the chance. She quickly let go of Zuko’s hand and tucked it under the bundle of fabric, hoping that the gesture of affection had been missed by the man.

If he had noticed, he showed no sign of it. He stopped in front of them, a gruff voice speaking from behind the mask with words that made her heart stop.

“Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord has requested an audience with you.”

-

haha OOPS

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27

atla: @marianne1806

[get-your-fics]

Hungry Like the Wolf

Summary: Women who closely resemble you are being brutally stabbed, and a man has been watching you like a hawk. Could they somehow be related?

Paring: Dark!Diego Hargreeves x reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: Smut, non-con, choking, knifeplay, blood kink, mentions of murder

A/N: so here’s my first foray into writing dark!diego fic. if you like it, let me know if you want to be added to a taglist because i have lots more ideas!

You weren’t sure when you first started to notice it.

Maybe it was when you were on your way to work, rushing down the sidewalk. You narrowly dodged people walking the opposite way, shooting you glares as you passed by them. You muttered apologies under your breath, never pausing long enough to make any of them truly count.

You passed by a newsstand, and the front page of a newspaper caught your eye. You slowed your step and got closer. Your eyes scanned over the headline printed in big, bold letters:

KILLER STRIKES AGAIN IN LONG LINE OF GRUESOME STABBINGS

You picked up the newspaper. Right underneath the headline was a photo of the victim. It was a woman. The longer you stared at her face, a sense of unease settled in your gut. There was something vaguely and oddly familiar about it, and yet you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Hey, are you gonna pay for that, lady?” Your head snapped up to meet the eye of the man running the newsstand. “This isn’t a library.”

You immediately put the newspaper back amongst the stacks. “Sorry,” you murmured. You ducked your head and continued along the sidewalk, hoisting the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder.

You brushed off the pit that had formed in your gut. New York City was teeming with crime; you had grown used to the grisly reports long ago. Any murderer who wanted to make a name for himself ought to pick a different city to stand out.

🔪

“Again.”

You raised your fists in front of your face. You didn’t take your eyes off of the boxing pads hovering in front of you. You took a step forward and aimed directly for them. Your right fist made contact with the pad before you immediately snapped your hand back. Pain blossomed through your knuckles. You hissed and shook your hand, trying to ease the sensation.

“Good.” Your personal trainer, Dani, nodded approvingly. “Again.”

You hunched over with your hands on your knees, panting to catch your breath. “We’ve been at it for the past thirty minutes.”

“Don’t look now, but someone else has had their eyes on you for at least that long.” She smirked, looking past you.

You stood up and furrowed your brow. Immediately ignoring her warning, you craned your neck to look behind you and followed her line of sight. Sure enough, she was right. Someone did have their eyes on you, that someone being Diego Hargreeves.

He sat against the wall, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his broad chest. You locked eyes. He wasn’t fazed when you caught him looking. He unabashedly continued to stare at you, the corners of his lips curled into the hint of a smirk.

You quickly averted your gaze back to Dani, your cheeks heating up. You hoped you could pass off the blush as a consequence of your workout.

Dani knew better. “I told you not to look.” She chuckled at your expense.

You cast your eyes downwards. “I hate you,” you mumbled.

She laughed harder, slapping a hand on your shoulder. “I think that means it’s time for a break.” She slipped off the boxing pads. “There’s a coffee place around the corner. You up for it?”

“Yep.” Anything to get out of here.

You unwrapped your hands and grabbed your towel, wiping the sweat from your brow before draping it over your shoulders. You and Dani gathered your belongings and ducked under the ropes of the boxing ring.

You followed Dani around the outside of the ring. You didn’t realize what she was deliberately doing until it was already too late and you were ensnared in her trap.

“Good work up there, ladies,” Diego called out to you as you passed by him.

Dani grinned at him. “Thanks, Diego.”

He shifted his gaze to you, and his eyes lingered on you as you walked away. His eyes were so dark, they didn’t exactly match the smile on his lips. He winked at you and licked his lips.

You shivered and looked away. You uncapped your water and downed half the bottle in one swig, nearly coughing from drinking so fast. Dani stifled a laugh, and you shot her a glare, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Diego Hargreeves was somewhat of a fixture at the gym. From what you knew, Al, the owner, let him reside in the basement in the boiler room as long as he mopped the floors after closing. During the day, he played detective, catching the bad guys and putting them behind bars. He was well liked by people at the gym, although you had never once seen him train there.

You had, however, sensed his eyes on you more and more often recently. He was always just lurking in the shadows, watching as you moved around the gym, never saying anything to you. It was unnerving, the focused concentration in his eyes as he watched you work, worse than any lecherous leers you had gotten from drunks walking down the street. You knew you should confront him, you just didn’t know how to go about it.

Dani, however, had other ideas.

“Aren’t you ever going to say hi?” She walked down the street next to you, bundled up against the cold. “He clearly likes you.”

You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, wishing you could disappear into it. “Then shouldn’t he be the one to say hi first?”

“Don’t be like that. He’s a good guy.” She nudged your side with her elbow. “Easy on the eyes, too.”

You swatted her away. “I hardly know him.”

“Isn’t that what dates are for?” She quirked a brow at you. “To get to know each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always trying to set me up.”

“Forgive me for trying to help you get some.” She held her hands up. “In that case, guilty as charged.”

You laughed along with her, but your laughter quickly ceased. Your face fell. “I don’t like the way he looks at me.” It was like he was undressing you with his eyes, but worse than that. “It’s like he wants to eat me alive.”

She smirked at you. “I could use a man who looked at me like that.”

You entered the little coffee shop and ordered. You waited until your names were called before grabbing your drinks and retreating to a table in the back corner. You took your seat, unraveling all of the layers you had put on to shield yourself from the cold.

“I swear you avoid any man who shows interest in you like the plague,” Dani teased you, sipping her latte. “When are you going to give in and settle down? Aren’t you bored? Aren’t you lonely?”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I have my work and my hobbies. It keeps me busy.”

She snorted. “Spoken like a true workaholic.”

Suddenly, a voice on the TV in the corner drew your attention. Both you and Dani looked up to watch it.

“In the ongoing investigation as to who is behind the stabbings, another murder was discovered last night by Detective Eudora Patch,” a professional-looking woman sitting behind a desk said. “Her name was Jennifer Springley. She is the twelfth murder authorities have found in the past two months as the killings appear to have been increasing in frequency.”

“Holy shit,” Dani muttered under her breath.

“I know,” you agreed. “This is getting out of hand.”

“No, not that.” She pointed up at the screen. “You notice anything similar?”

You looked up to see a photo of Jennifer alongside photos of the eleven other victims. Seeing them all lined up side by side made your breath catch in your throat. Their hair, their eyes, their lips… They were all distinctly the same and terrifyingly familiar.

Dani softly said your name. “They all look like you.”

🔪

Music blasted in your ears as you smacked the hell out of the punching bag in front of you. Your knuckles hurt, and your muscles were sore, but you didn’t stop until it was swinging off the chain it hung from, threatening to break and plummet to the ground in an explosion of sound.

You usually went to the gym after work to blow off some steam, but lately you’ve been going twice as often as was normal. You’ve been on edge ever since you saw that news report at the coffee shop: triple-checking the lock on your door when you’re home, glancing over your shoulder when walking late at night, clutching your keys between your fingers in case you had to fight off an assailant. You had brushed it off as a coincidence at the time. After all, every killer had a type. But that didn’t stop you from worrying and biting your nails down to the quick.

It was a good thing your go-to hobby was boxing. One thing was for sure: if anyone tried to catch you off guard, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You heard a muffled voice over the music, and a hand waved in front of your face. You stepped back and ripped your earbuds out of your ears, not bothering to pause the song. “What?” you snapped a little too harshly.

You no longer regretted your tone when you saw who had interrupted you. Diego stood next to you, a wide smile plastered on his face. “I asked you if you wanted a sparring partner.”

You swallowed hard. It was the first time he had ever addressed you directly, and this time you had no choice but to answer him. “I don’t think it would be a fair fight.” You eyed the knives strapped to his back.

He noticed what you were eying, and his smirk grew. “Because of the knives or because I’d beat you?”

You shrugged carelessly. “Take your pick.”

“Then I think we both know what I’d choose.” He rested one arm on the punching bag. “If you don’t want to spar then, maybe you’d like some tips.”

He struck up position. “When you go in for a punch, you put too much momentum into it.” He mimed a punch at the punching bag. “Anyone could dodge you, and you’d just topple over all on your own. You gotta keep your weight on both feet.”

You pursed your lips. “Thanks for the tip.”

He stood up straight. “Any time.” He looked apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You looked like you were in the zone.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

He rested one arm on the punching bag. “What’s got you all worked up?”

You furrowed your brow, confused as to why he was still interrogating you. You looked around and noticed that outside the windows was dark, and there was no one else in the gym. You must have been so distracted, you lost track of time. Now, it was just you and Diego.

You looked back at him. “Sorry, am I keeping you from doing your job?”

“What? Oh, no.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind the company while I work.”

He stepped close to you, and you were suddenly aware of his close proximity to you in your lack of clothes. You were just in a sports bra and shorts, your usual boxing attire.

You backed away from him and glanced down at your Fitbit on your wrist. “Actually, it’s getting late.” You stooped down to gather your things. “I should be getting home.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you going to walk? At this time of night?”

You shoved your arms into the sleeves of your jacket, hurrying to get out of there. “I live just a couple blocks away.”

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I’ll drive you.”

You blinked at him. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Please? It’ll make me feel better, what with all those murders recently.”

You froze, your blood going cold. “Murders?”

“Yeah?” He quirked a brow at you. “All those stabbings on the news? You haven’t seen them?”

You nodded. “I have.”

“Then you should know it’s not safe out there for a girl like you.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “I can handle myself.”

He looked you up and down and laughed. “I’m sure you can.” He reached out and grabbed your hand. “Please, just humor me then.”

You stared at him. It was clear he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, even if that meant hauling you into his car himself. And you’d rather not push him past that point.

You slowly nodded. “Alright.” Let’s get this over with.

His face broke out into a big smile. “Great. My car’s parked just out front.”

He kept his hand on yours as he led you out of the gym. His touch felt hot, like a brand on your skin. He let go to open the door to the passenger’s seat for you. You got in his car, and he rounded the front to get in on the other side.

You sat with your arms crossed and your bag in your lap, staring straight out the windshield. He tried to make conversation with you as he drove down the city streets, about where you grew up, what brought you to New York, what you did for a living. You indulged him with one word answers, his voice filling the gaps in between. You weren’t exactly eager to get to know him.

He pulled up in front of your apartment building and shifted the car into park. He looked over at you, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on the console between you, like he was expecting something.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said what you thought he wanted to hear. You shrunk back towards the door, grabbing the handle.

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled at you a little too widely. His gaze was dark. “Let me walk you to your door.”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he got out of his car the same time you did. He followed you into your building and up the stairs to your floor. You walked down the dimly lit hall. You didn’t live in the nicest area of town, which was a given for anyone making as much as you did. But the lights flickering above you and the stained carpet seemed even more nefarious than usual with him behind you.

You stopped in front of the door to your apartment. You dug your keys out of your bag and twisted them in the lock until you heard a click. You pushed your door open and looked back at him, wondering if he would wait until he was in your apartment to kill you or settle for here in the hall with no one around.

He smiled at you. “Get a good night’s rest.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Anytime you need a ride home, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

You forced a smile back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stepped inside and closed the door shut, immediately turning the locks. You backed away and ran your hands through your hair. Maybe you were letting your paranoia get the best of you. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if not a little oblivious and couldn’t take a hint. Being single for so long must have made you cynical.

Suddenly, you got a shiver down your spine, like you were being watched. You turned around and pressed your hands against the door, peering through the peephole. What you saw on the other side made you gasp.

He was still there, standing in front of your door, just staring. He was no longer smiling. He had that same look in his eyes he had while watching you in the gym, except ten times worse. It was intense. He looked like he was deciding something and he hadn’t yet made up his mind, still weighing his options.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing in case he heard you. He stood there for what felt like hours. You wondered if he could sense you on the other side. You were sure not even the three locks and the chain on your door would be enough to keep him out if he wanted in.

Whatever he had been deciding, he must’ve come to a conclusion, because suddenly he retreated down the hallway, his footsteps so quiet you wouldn’t have heard them unless you had been listening for them.

When you were sure he was gone, you spun around and pressed your back against the door. You slid down it, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees to your chest. The fear that seized you was made even worse when you realized you hadn’t told him your address when he drove you home.

🔪

You marched through the gym with a determined look on your face. You ignored people you usually saw who greeted you. You didn’t stop at the locker rooms like you normally did. You kept on through the main area of the gym, looking as if you were on a mission and nothing could stand in your way.

You knew it was Diego.

You had stayed up all night, staring out the peephole, waiting for him to return when he thought you were asleep and break in. You didn’t catch a wink of shut eye. You were glued to the door, going through all the possible scenarios in your head of how you would defend yourself. He never came.

But you knew it was him. There was no other explanation for his peculiar behavior. He had had his eye on you for months now. You were clearly his next target. You were surprised he had waited this long to make his move.

Or maybe he liked watching his prey panic. He drove them to the brink of madness and, once they were vulnerable, found the perfect time to strike. You suppressed a shudder.

You needed to find something to confirm your suspicions. Plus, if you were going to try to turn him into the police, you couldn’t show up empty-handed. You needed proof, and quickly, before he got bored of toying with you.

Lucky for you, you knew where the dragon’s den was.

You turned down the hallway away from the gym and bumped straight into a chest. Your heart leaped in your ribcage when you thought you had run into the exact person you were trying to avoid, but relief washed over you when you looked up and saw Al, the gym owner.

“Whoa, where you going?” He raised his brows.

“Um, I was looking for the bathroom,” you quickly fibbed, fidgeting with your fingers.

He narrowed his eyes at you, but if he noticed you were off, he didn’t mention it. He pointed behind you. “Over there, on your left.”

“Thanks. I must’ve gotten turned around.” You laughed awkwardly. “Hey, by the way, have you seen Diego around today?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, kid. He’s out on detective business right now.” He smirked at you. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear you were looking for him, though.”

He passed by you. You waited until he was out of your sight to continue down the hall. Hopefully, when he told Diego, you’d be long gone and at the police station by then.

You spotted the door to the boiler room. You walked over to it, looking both ways down the hall to make sure no one was coming your way. Then, you grabbed the knob and twisted it. Fortunately, it was unlocked.

You slowly pushed the door open with an ominous creak. Light from the hallway spilled into the room enveloped in darkness. You reached inside and felt around for a light switch. Once you found it, you flipped it on, flooding the room with light.

It wasn’t exactly the villain’s lair or dungeon you had expected. Instead, what was most surprising was that it looked like a teenage boy’s room in his parent’s basement rather than a place that belonged to a grown man, full of organized clutter from the floors to the walls.

You wasted no time closing the door behind you and going through his stuff (and there was a lot to go through). You searched high and low, through his drawers, his shelves, under his bed, being careful not to leave any sign you had been there at all. You weren’t quite sure what you were looking for, exactly. A bloody knife, maybe? A severed limb, perhaps? You were sure you’d know when you saw it.

After rifling through all his belongings, you came up with nothing to show for it. You were starting to feel crazy. Had you misjudged him? Jumped to conclusions? You had officially let your paranoia reach new heights. Regardless, you were still getting a restraining order. He gave you the heebie jeebies.

You made to move towards the door when your foot caught on the rug in the middle of the room. It got messed up in the process, revealing what looked like a square indent in the floor. You furrowed your brow and bent down, feeling along the edges of the indent until you were able to lift it up. It was a secret compartment in the floor.

You peered into the hole in the floor. There were a bunch of assorted bracelets and necklaces and rings inside. You reached down and picked up the one closest to the top. It was a heart-shaped locket inscribed with a J. Your mouth went dry. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the J stood for.

Jennifer Springley, the twelfth victim.

There was something on the locket. It looked like rust. You scraped at it with your nail, and it flaked off. Your eyes went wide when you realized what it really was: dried blood.

You dropped the locket as if it had stung you. You looked down and counted twelve in total. You scrambled back from the compartment, fighting the urge to retch. They were souvenirs.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

“Find what you were looking for?”

You craned your neck to see Diego standing in the doorway behind you. He wasn’t smiling. He closed the door behind you with a slam that reverberated in your ears. You didn’t think you had ever heard a louder sound in your life.

He walked down the steps, his footsteps against the concrete like the ticks of a bomb about to go off. “You weren’t supposed to see those.” He stopped before you, and his shadow loomed over you. “Put them back.”

You hurried to replace the top on the hidden compartment and covered it with the rug. You stood up, shrinking away when you found yourself too close to him. “I can pretend I didn’t see anything.”

He took a step towards you. His eyes seemed to devour any light that hit them, like two blackholes in the center of his face. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

You knew he was backing you up against the wall, but you had no choice as he walked towards you, trying to put more distance between him and yourself. “Please, don’t kill me,” you murmured, your voice impossibly small.

He stopped in his tracks, arching a brow at you. “You think I’m going to kill you?”

Your back met the brick wall as you froze, your knees threatening to buckle underneath you. You were too scared to answer. Maybe he was still playing with you.

Suddenly, his face softened. He gently said your name. “I could never hurt you.” He reached out, and you flinched when he grabbed your shoulders. “That’s what I needed them for.”

You stared up at him, slowly growing more and more perplexed. He looked at you with so much adoration, almost doting like a lovesick puppy. “I don’t understand,” you stammered.

He cupped your face in his hands. Your skin crawled at his touch. He leaned down to stare directly into your eyes. “I knew it from the moment I saw you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You were the one for me.”

He ran his hand over your jaw and down your neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how beautiful you are.” He ran the tip of his finger along your throat, tracing an invisible line you couldn’t see. “About peeling back your skin and seeing what your veins look like, about holding your beating heart in my hand.” He settled his hand right over your heart. “About what color your blood is.”

Your heart was racing faster than the flap of a hummingbird’s wings, and you were sure he could feel it. This barely restrained psychopath had murdered other women to satisfy his urge to torture you, and now you were trapped alone in a boiler room with him.

You were supremely and royally fucked.

You mustered a thimble of courage and used it to push his shoulders, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble back a step. “Get away from me,” you snapped.

He raised his brows. “So, that’s how it’s gonna be.” He smirked. “Fine, I’m up for a little sparring match.” He paced back and forth in front of you, like a lion pacing the length of its cage. “Try to make it to the door, or – maybe that’s too much,” he taunted you. “To start, try making it past me.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. The knives strapped to his back glinted in the light. There was no possible way you could overpower him, especially if he decided to fight dirty with his supernatural abilities. You were outmatched. But, there might still be a way you could slip past him, and if you got enough of a head start, you could make it to the gym before he caught you. Regardless, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

You stepped forward and swung your fist, aiming for his jaw. He easily sidestepped you, but your momentum continued, and you sprawled out on the floor.

He darkly chuckled above you. “Looks like you should’ve taken my advice.”

He curled his fingers into the back of your shirt and hauled you towards the twin bed in the corner. You flailed your legs, trying to grab onto anything you could and shrieking at the top of your lungs.

He tossed you onto the bed, and you bounced on the mattress. He immediately crawled on top of you before you could sit up. You bared your teeth and reeled your arm back to scratch at his cheek. He grabbed your hand before it could make contact and pinned it by your head.

He whipped out a knife and held it to your throat. “I would recommend keeping still, or I can make this worse for you.” He dug the edge of the blade into your skin enough to sting. “I wouldn’t make a sound, either.”

You swallowed hard. He had you beat. All you could do now was lie still and take whatever he gave you. Hopefully, he decided to have mercy on you.

He moved the knife down your body and started his work on undressing you. He straddled your thighs and tore down the center of your shirt, splitting it in half with a gut wrenching rip. You sank your teeth into your lips to keep in the sobs that wanted to spill out.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he told you as he cut the straps on your bra. “I was going to win you over eventually. But now you’ve found out, so I guess there’s no turning back.”

You scowled at him. Part of you was pretty sure he didn’t mind taking a shortcut to get what he wanted.

He let go of your hand to strip you of your shirt and bra, discarding your tattered clothes on the floor. His eyes were glued to your heaving chest as your breath quickened, flushed pink. You resisted the urge to cover yourself with your arms.

“Look at you,” he whispered huskily. He cupped your tit in his hand, his thumb stroking your nipple until it stiffened to a peak. “So beautiful.”

He was practically salivating at this point. He looked hungry, like a wolf that had been starved and kept in captivity its entire life until now, when it had finally been set free.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” He held the knife above your tit. “I need to taste you.”

Before you could protest, he pressed the knife into your skin. He made a neat slice right underneath your collar bone, about an inch long and just deep enough to draw blood. Your back arched on the bed, and you couldn’t hold back the pained yelp that escaped your throat.

“Shhh,” he shushed you. He pinched your nipple roughly, and you went still. He dipped down and ran his tongue along the cut he had made, lapping up the slow trickle of blood leaking out. He pulled away, red staining his lips. “You taste even better than I dreamed of. I can’t wait to mark you up more.”

He placed the flat of the knife underneath the button on your jeans and popped it off, shoving them down your legs. He cut off your panties and ripped them off, baring yourself to him. He tossed your underwear and the knife to the floor. Once he had gotten a taste of you, it was clear he was desperate for more.

He grabbed hold of your legs and spread them wider for him. He spat on your cunt, using his finger to spread his spit around your entrance. Your eyes went wide when you realized what was about to happen, and the fight was ignited inside of you once more.

You tried to sit up and push him off. “Stop! Don’t–”

He grabbed hold of your wrists and pinned you back against the mattress. “What a shame,” he tsked. “You were being so good for me.”

He shifted so he held both your hands in one. You wriggled in his grasp, but he remained strong. He used his free hand to undo his fly and push his boxers and jeans down his thick thighs in one swoop. He stroked his achingly hard cock dripping with precum before positioning himself at your entrance.

“I need to claim you,” he growled, rumbling deep in his chest, before he pressed into you.

You whimpered as he forced himself inside of you. He didn’t stop until the head of his cock pushed against your cervix. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pulling back only to sharply snap his hips against yours again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his face contorted with pleasure. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. “You feel so good.”

He set a fast pace, hammering into you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaming down your cheeks, and bit your lip so hard the copper taste of blood flooded your mouth. His hand closed around your throat, and you gasped.

“Look at me,” he commanded, giving your throat an experimental squeeze. “I want you to look at me when I come in you.”

Your eyes shot open and were met with his dark ones. He stared down at you as he rammed into you. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his chest was pressed flush against yours. His breath hit your lips in small bursts of air as he panted. You could tell he was close when his thrusts grew sloppy and uneven.

He spilled into you with a growl, fucking his seed deep inside of you. He rested his forehead against yours and softly kissed your parted lips, a contrast from how roughly he had treated you before. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, licking the blood from your self-inflicted wound.

He pulled out of you, but his hand remained on your neck. “I own you now.” His dark eyes bored into yours. “You belong to me.”

You could only hope he never tired of you.

🔪

Masterlist | Ko-fi

[burntmcnuggies]

HC: Hawks gets a pimple

Hawks x Reader

Warnings: fluff! Slight mention of suggestive sexual intercourse and cursing! But that’s it! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7K

Hawks was having a good morning so far. The sunlight peeked through the curtains of his spacious penthouse apartment, letting the orange glow illuminate the usually dark room. His avian like eyes peeked open, dark pupils shrinking at the sudden invasion of brightness. He rose a heavy hand up to block out the light, groaning in reluctance to rise from his comfy bed next to you. Both his eyes opened slowly, remembering that you’d spent the night with him. His golden hues focused in on your sleeping face beside him. He loved moments like these, waking up with you beside him —even though he had to leave you. It always made his heart swell with warmth.

Once he lazily picked himself out of bed, careful not to wake you, he sent a few sturdy feathers to collect the fallen ones he’d littered on the floor and to dispose of them. He gave you one last look with a satisfied huff and a genuinely loving smile. His light footsteps padded against the hardwood floors as he went to his closet and began to dress for the day, leaving his pants undone so he could take a leak before he left. He slipped into the bathroom and out of habit sparred a glance at himself in the mirror. His eyes shifted to the toilet until he froze. WAIT—

Hawks jerked back around to the mirror and rushed over to the reflective glass, eyes shrunken and horrified at the rather large white bump that protruded from his skin, an irritated flush of his skin surrounding the small pore. “No, no, no, no, no. Oh fuck, shit, what the hell is that?!” His bare hands rose to gently poke and run his finger along the pus filled pore. He winced at the touch and pain that swelled around his cheek. The dashingly handsome hero had no idea what was now stuck on his face, blemishing his sex appeal and pride.

In a fit of panic he flew to your side and shook you gently awake. “(Y/N). (Y/N) wake up! I need your help!” You stirred and groaned in exhaustion, cracking your eyes open to see your lover with a panicked expression. “Mmm... what’s wrong Keigo?” Your voice was groggy and tired, laced with drowsiness as your body threatened to lull you back to sleep. “There’s something on my face, I-I don’t know what it is. Can you help me cover it up?” Your brows knit together at the urgency in his voice. Why was he freaking out about some cut on his face? He got small scratches all the time. “Keigo it’s just a scratch. Just put a band-aid-“ “ITS WHITE. It’s not a scratch!”

Your eyes opened in confusion and the instant you saw his face your pupils narrowed in on the irritated red patch of skin that dawned his right cheek about an inch or two away from the corner of his lips. “Keigo that’s a pimple. It’s norma-“ “A PIMPLE?!?!” His loud shouting instantly woke you up, and your ears rung in slight irritation at the unexpected squawking. He was urgently pointing towards the small pus head, anxiously awaiting your assistance. “Don’t yell babe... it’s not that big of a deal, everyone gets them-“ “I’m the number two hero, I’m a model, I cannot have some... some white thing on my face!! What’re people gonna think? That I’m dirty? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Never before have you seen Hawks so upset about something so small as a pimple. He did pride himself on his looks. He spent hours preening his feathers to have them look their best for the public to keep up his flashy reputation. He knows he looks good. Was this an insecurity seeping through?

“Should I pop it? Will that get rid of it?” He rose his hands up, ready to do the deed himself without hearing an answer. “No Keigo. That’s the worst thing to do. I know it’s tempting but you just need to clean your face and put some ointment on it.” “Can you buy it for me?” It was cute seeing Hawks so insecure about a pimple. Every gets them at least once in their life, it happens, but you’ve never seen someone freak out as much as Hawks over ONE pimple. “Sure babe, I’ll get you some. But you need to calm down, it’s not that bad-“ “I’m so ugly.” “...yes Hawks one pimple makes you the ugliest man in the world.” “...really...?” His wings dropped, looking at his reflection in horror and sadness. “Oh my god no. I was just kidding Keigo.”

“Don’t play with me like that. This is serious.” “And I’m serious when I tell you it’s gonna be okay and you need to calm down.” He still had a frantic look in his golden eyes once you told him to relax. He nodded and continued to eye the blemish in anger, hoping it would vanish if he glared at it enough. “Tell you what babe, let’s put a little bandaid over it with some Neosporin and you can just say got a little scratch from a fight with a villain. Sound good?” “You’re so smart, love bird. How did I get so damn lucky, or were you the lucky one? It’s always debatable huh?”

Once he was patched up and covered, he finished getting ready and kissed you goodbye, leaving through the balcony window. He ascended to the skies, wind bursting against his face and sweeping his hair back. His mind was still on the pimple that graced his handsome face. He brought his hand up and scratched his chin in thought. As soon as he got to his agency, he would look up all the fastest ways to get rid of a pimple.

“Hey love bird, did ya get the ointment?” “Yep, got it right in the cart.” Your eyes cast down to the ointment resting in the temporarily empty cart awaiting to be filled with groceries. “So I was thinking about what we should have for dinner tonight-“ “Can you pick up a few more things?” Your brows furrowed. “Like what?” “Face masks, face scrub, moisturizer, clay masks, oh! Get the charcoal ones too I heard those fuckin’ hurt but work good! Foam wash, some skin oil, sunscreen-“ “Keigo are you serious... baby that’s so much. It’s just one pim-“ “Sorry love bird, I gotta go, just use the black card okay? Love ya!” He hung up...

You did as he instructed and bought a lot of skin care products for him, along with some packs of chicken and some of his Georgia WAX coffee. Once you got home and put everything away, you started on dinner. It was rare if Hawks even got home on time, but you always made him some for him to heat up —if he didn’t get take out. To your surprise he came home quite earlier. “Hey love bird! Did ya get my stuff?” “Yeah, it’s all in the bathroom, babe.” “Hair clips?” “I already had some Bobby pins.” “You’re the best.”

When he emerged from the bathroom he had a charcoal face mask on, the messily long strands of blonde hair usually sticking up pinned down to his head and away from his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face and the avoidance of his “manly” patch of scruff on his chin. “Were you worried it would take off your little beard?” “.....yes.” “I wish you’d shave, I hate it.” “Wh-What?! I thought you liked it!” “It looks like pubes on your face.” His face paled, well, as much as you could see. “Baby I’m kidding.” “Oh-“ he sighed in relief. “I was about to say there, you weren’t complainin’ when I ate you out last ni-“ “KEIGO!!!” He laughed at your embarrassment.

After dinner Hawks finally took his face mask off... or well he tried to. He was whining like a baby at how much it hurt. “Ow! Ow! Fuck! Why does it hurt so much?!” “You told me to buy it, you knew the charcoal one was gonna hurt you birdbrain!” “It said it would get rid of it fast!” “Who’s fault is that for telling me to buy it!” “It’s the internet’s fault for tellin’ me it worked fast!” Eventually you ripped the mask from his face and stared at all the tiny hairs and unnoticeable pores. “Hey look, it-“ you looked up at him and stopped once you saw his flushed red face. “Babe you okay?” “I can’t feel my face. Do I still have eyebrows?” You burst out laughing. “Yes Kei’.” “What about my scruff?” “Nope, gone.” “Liar.”

Afterwards you both put on some face masks and lathered each other up in some lotion in a very comforting way, not sexually, although he made some very sly comments that teetered on the edge. Against your wishes, you both ate some chips on the couch watching TV with Hawks shouting and throwing chips. “WHAT THE FUCK!!! THEY CANT KILL HIM OFF LIKE THAT!!!!” “BABE ITS A SHOW!” “ITS MY FAVORITE SHOW HE WAS MY FAVORITE CAUSE HE WAS HOT LIKE ME!!!” You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily at his cute childish antics. His eyes moved over to you, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“I love you, birdie.” Your cheeks flushed. “I love you too...” “Ah, after three years of dating, a year and a half of livin’ together, and you’re still embarrassed with me tellin’ you I love you? We’ve done worse ya know~” “Shut up. You’re... never around much anymore, and it always makes me happy when we spend time together, but... confessing your feelings... it’s a different kind of happiness all together. Words can’t explain how much your words mean to me.” His expression turned sullen. “(Y/N)...” “And I know it’s cheesy, it’s stupid, but... it’s how I feel... knowing you still love me even when we’ve been apart for so long... I love you, Keigo. Whether you have a pimple or not.” He frowned, eyes narrowing. “You ruined it.” “Really? Damn. Nothing gets past you does it?” You both shared in playful laughter until the masks were ready to come off.

The next day his skin was clear, surprisingly, perfect and smooth with the exception of his patch of scruff. He had taken a day off work, which was a bit odd but, heroes need a break too I guess? “Mmm... good mornin’ birdie~” His deep morning voice rumbled against your ear, shaking your core and making a small tingle twinge in the dark pits of your stomach. “M-Morning.” His lips littered the side of your jaw and down your shoulder. “Are you ready for our fun day off, love bird?” “Yeah, I’m uh... pretty excited.” “Oh yeah? Well...” His hand slowly slipped down your night gown, trailing his fingers sneakily to the hem while shifting his fingers up. He pressed into your skin to slip a hand into your panties, but you quickly stopped his hand. “Later.” “Whyyyy?” He whined. “Unlike you, I have work.” “Oh don’t worry! I already called ‘em and them ‘em you were spendin’ a day off with me for... personal reasons.” “........” “I-I love you...?”

Hawks still ended up being cock-blocked that morning, but he was awarded some juicy chicken with a side of pancakes. The morning was full of playful banter, loving gazes, and small kisses. “I booked us a massage today.” “Oh really? When’d you do that?” “Yesterday after I called your work.” “They let you have an appointment last notice?” He laughed. “I am the number two hero, and there are some benefits to being the most popular and handsome man in Japan.” “I think Best Jeanist tops you.” “Why must you always be so mean to me, Birdie.” “I’m mean cause I love you.” “That’s not how that works.” “...” “...” “Keigo.” “I know, I know, we won’t talk about it.” He’s playfully mean and teasing because he loves you too.

Later that afternoon you arrive at the spa and everyone is gawking at Hawks. Who wouldn’t? He is the most handsome man in Japan like he said. Oh, let’s not forget the glares some of his fangirls gave you, it never failed to make you a bit uncomfortable. “Hey there, we’ve got an appointment for two, a couples massage.” “Oh! Y-Yes Hawks everything is ready for you!” “Ah! Great! Thank you sweets~” He cooes out and sends the lady a friendly wink as she left. His slung his arm protectively around your waist and he kissed your cheek. You pouted. “It’s unbelievable what you can do with your charm.” “Tell me about it! I get a lotta free stuff; discounts, free reservations. All that stuff, comes with being so popular, ain’t that right?” “Fuck off.”

The massage was wonderful, absolutely amazing. It took a lot of the stress off your shoulders and gave you a bit of time to just relax and think about nothing. Your mind was blank, enjoying the silence and feel of someone else’s hands just rubbing the pain and stress away. There was also a very fashionable and professional facial. It was then you realized it. “Hawks, did you book these massages just to get the facial for your skin?” “Well yeah, how else am I gonna keep the pores away?” “You do realize I bought you like- tons of stuff for home right?” “Yeah! But this is more relaxing dont’cha think?” “Well... yeah but-“ “Just hush and enjoy the massage love bird.”

You were going to kill him. Bury him six feet under, you wouldn’t even attend his funeral. He wouldn’t even have a funeral you’d hide the body so well. The massage and the facial Hawks had booked cost way over $2K dollars. But with Hawks and his grade A flirting and charm, the price was knocking back to just $1.95K on the bright side... he saved you $500. Even though he paid. “Hawks why did you book such an expensive massage!” “Well, I really wanted the facial but I got more for the bundle, so I just went with that and decided to relax! You can’t tell me you didn’t like it, love bird.” “Of course I liked it, but just don’t spend SO MUCH money. All this over one pimple!” His face flushed. “Keep it down-“ you burst into fits of laughter at his embarrassment, you couldn’t help it.

He wore face masks everyday after the pimple incident and lathered up lotion before bed, making him all slick when he cuddled you. It was such a clear insecurity you never knew he would have, it was honestly very cute. At dinner when he finally returned home, he heaved a heavy sigh of exhaustion. “I’m home love bird.” He called out with a smile. You approached him immediately with his little face mask and gently pinned his bangs back, putting the cool moistened mask onto his smooth face. “Oh? What’s this? Givin’ me some special treatment tonight? What’d I do?”

“You’ve been freaking out the past couple days, so I figured I’d help you out just a bit.” A smile spread over your lips as you helped him out of his hero jacket, leading him down the hall to the bedroom. He laid his head against your lap, wings nudging your knees on either side of you while he laid on the bed calmly. “Thank you love bird...” “You don’t need to thank me, Keigo. And just so you know...” You leaned down and gently pecked his lips, giving him a sweet upside down kiss. “I love you cause you’re you, not because of your looks. It doesn’t matter if you’re covered in thousands of scars and pimples or whatever! As long as you’re my birdie...” His wings fluffed up, eyes going wide. “I’ll love you forever, my avian mate.” It was silent until he spoke up in a very flustered tone.

“...” “...” “Can we fuck?” “You ruined it, Keigo. You ruined it.”

[epicseptic]

Erseptyl AU

Prologue Part2

So this is part 2/3 to the prologue of my fantasy au? I so apologize if this one doesn’t live up to the first. This one got a little too ambitious for me.... but I am still learning how to word ^^’ And dialogue.. i gotta learn to do that too. I’ll learn tho. I hope.... Criticism is appreciated ^^’

Part one - https://epicseptic.tumblr.com/post/660766644770062336/erseptyl-au

----------

"Ugh, this is so BORING!" Marvin groaned. He slumped in his place on the throne, leaning his elbow on the armrest with his head in his hand.

"Your Highness, please refrain from such inappropriate outbursts...." Anti was highly unamused by the misbehavior and the disapproving look on his face said it all. He stood to the left of the throne with a book as big as an encyclopedia in his arms and a quill in his hand. As Marvin's royal advisor, he stood beside him throughout most of the day charting records and ultimately helping the prince make decisions on social and economical issues in the kingdom. He was typically very calm and passionate about his work, always wanting to get straight to the point and sometimes getting carried away. 

At least, that's how Marvin saw it.

"How many people did you say I would have to meet with today?" He asked, his boredom was evident in the tone of his voice and the way he kicked his foot against the carpet.

"Not many. Several folks from town have requested an audience with you. Afterwards, you are to meet with a group of men from the council to discuss taxes and production within the city. It should only take a couple of hours. Now please sit up straight and be professional." His words were quite stern and he spoke to him as if he was instructing a four year old. It was clear that he didn't have much patience to deal with the prince's nonsense today.

Marvin simply huffed with slight annoyance as he propped himself up and fixed his posture. He was used to behaving "properly" but he wasn't fond of the way the servants would still tell him how to act. It seemed that some of them still treated him like some kind of adolescent child. Maybe they didn't see it the same way, but he thought he was perfectly mature. Inexperienced maybe, but other than that he didn’t need everyone to hold his hand all the time. He wasn’t just some child anymore. He just wasn't at all excited about the boring meetings he would have to sit through today... 

As if right on cue, the captain of the royal guard, Chase, entered through the castle gates and approached the throne along the long, golden colored carpet. "Your Highness" He kneeled in front of the steps when he reached the end of the hall. "The townspeople that are to meet with you are beginning to line up outside. Shall I let them in now?"

Chase was Marvin's most skilled soldier. He was skilled in both sword and bow. In fact, archery was his strongest suit. He was dedicated and disciplined, though you would never know that outside of the sparring halls since that side of himself was reserved only for the training grounds and the battlefield. His authoritative conduct usually stayed buried beneath his friendly and optimistic attitude when he was around the rest of the staff. He was friendly and fun, but focussed when he needed to be. Marvin quite appreciated his companionship as well. He was a good friend and was actually acquainted with the prince on a more personal level, much like JJ was. However, he still treated Marvin with the utmost respect. To this day, he still refused to address him by his first name no matter how many times Marvin told him he could.

With a bit of uncertainty, Marvin looked to Anti who simply stared impatiently back at him, waiting for him to give the command to the knight. He supposed that look meant yes. He sighed, ready to just get the afternoon over with. "Yes. Please send them in...."

Chase wasted no time nodding and getting to his feet to fetch the townspeople waiting outside and it wasn't long before he returned to introduce the first individual; a baker by the name of Ludwig looking to expand his business. He was asking to be given the funds to open a second shop on the other side of town and to provide himself with the proper equipment. A reasonable thing to ask for, right?

"Well…" Marvin thought aloud upon hearing the man’s plea. He knew that his advisor would insist on denying this request - that he would see no significance in the man's plight - but decisions like this really preyed on Marvin's moral values. 

When he didn't come up with a quick enough response, Anti decided to chime in and give his opinion. "Your highness, adding another bakery into the city is not a priority. There is no need to waste tax money on... cake..." He had a look of disgust on his face when he said that last word, his eyes scanning the man up and down. His words were harsh and Marvin cringed seeing the baker’s heartbroken expression. As he suspected, Anti was opposed to the idea. He took his opinion into account but he still didn't know what he should say. It was all so daunting, having everyone's eyes on him while he anxiously tried to come up with something that would make everyone happy... But he knew that no matter what he chose, someone was going to be upset. Whether it was the baker who would leave empty handed and disappointed, or Anti who would disagree with the way he handled money. It was as if he was stood before a tall, delicate structure and, despite his best efforts to keep it standing, his ultimate decision would always send it crashing down. Since being in charge, he quickly learned that there were no compromises. Apparently, it wasn’t about making a choice that made everyone happy, but instead about choosing the one that would cause less destruction…

He knew that he couldn't pass out gold to just anyone but, in the end, he couldn't deny someone the opportunity to follow their dreams. And so, he finally had his verdict. "I think it's great that you want to share your talent with your people. I would be honored to help provide you with the means to do so." He agreed and the man was immediately filled with joy. He thanked the prince again and again, saying that the kingdom was blessed to have such a gracious ruler like him. He had to admit, he felt a bit awkward by his kind words but, aside from that, he was just happy to see the man filled with such happiness. Besides, Marvin knew what it was like to want to be a part of something bigger and achieve a personal level of success. 

It felt good to come to a rewarding conclusion and he was beaming as he watched Chase escort the very joyful man out of the throne room. However, when he looked to Anti, he noticed him looking down with a frown as he scribbled something in his notes. He was shaking his head in disapproval and Marvin's smile promptly faded seeing the sour expression on his face. Suddenly he began wondering if he made the right choice after all. Maybe he should've thought a little harder about his decision but wasn't keeping the people happy the right thing to do? Wasn't that the most important thing about being a ruler?

He just didn't know anymore. He wished someone would tell him... It always seemed like he was doing something wrong. It was never good enough for everyone…

Minutes after the man had left the throne room, the next citizen walked in through the large doors. After all the time he'd spent pondering the first request, he already felt so overwhelmed and began wondering just how long that whole ordeal had taken.

"Umm… Anti?” He leaned over his chair to whisper to him. “How long have we been here?"

He stared vacantly at him for a moment, completely speechless. "Your highness, we just got started… It's only been 10 minutes. Now, please sit properly!" He whispered back but with a far more impatient tone. Truthfully, he was shocked that the prince was already getting restless when they'd only just begun.

Only 10 minutes? He frowned and corrected his posture again, resting his head in his hand while he leaned against the armrest. If that's how long 10 minutes felt, he couldn't imagine how long he was going to have to sit there… Sitting in one spot for hours was boring enough as it was, but the most taxing part of it all would be making proper, sensible decisions in a timely manner. all while trying his best to keep everyone happy. That was the most difficult part about all of this and he knew that all of the stress was going to leave him exhausted. There was no telling how long these meetings were going to last but he just tried to maintain professionalism and push through the next few hours with a smile. All he knew was that it was about to be a long afternoon… 

----------

Later that evening, after all of his meetings were finally over, Marvin had retired to his study. Unfortunately, though his meetings were over, his business was not and he still had yet to finish answering many other requests. His study room consisted of bookshelves on either side of the room, a large arched window in the back with the curtains wide open to let in the sunlight, and his desk in the center which contained paperwork, ink, quills, and books.

He was sitting at his desk with his head resting tiredly in his hand while he leaned his elbow on the wood. Anti was with him and he was listening to him read out more propositions for him to answer to. These ones were different from the meetings he had to sit through earlier since they weren’t just from town, but from all over the kingdom. Each proposition came with a scroll of paper to sign and Anti passed them to him on the table one by one. He had such a hard time focusing on them and found himself staring distantly at the papers in front of him, barely caring enough to listen as Anti read them out.

"Your Highness, the king in the neighboring kingdom is planning to raid Jaskervawl and he is inviting you to join him. He is simply asking for you to provide men and weapons for his cause. This would be a great opportunity for you to-"

"No, thank you." He suddenly interrupted, not wanting to hear any more. He already hated the sound of this selfish request.

Anti didn't appreciate being interrupted but he calmly continued just as before. "My Prince, if I may, this would be a great opportunity to expand your reign and conquer more territory." Anti made an effort to calmly convince him to change his mind and go through with the raid. "As king, it is important that you claim land and supplies for profit, even if that means stealing it. Just think, your leadership could strike fear into your enemies."

He shook his head. "I said no. I will not get involved in a war."

"My liege, I think you should accept this proposal.” He immediately disregarded his refusal and insisted that he go through with the assault on Jaskervawl. “You cannot continue to dodge vital opportunities such as this. A king must show leadership! You represent everything that this kingdom stands for. Whether or not this leads to a war, should not concern you...“ This is what he hated most when it came to working under the prince. He was always trying to 'play it safe' and it was obviously holding him back. His lack of leadership was only hindering the growth of the kingdom's productivity and, therefore, its money. 

And to him, money meant power.

"I said, no." Though he raised his voice a bit, he remained patient with Anti. However, it was starting to bug him that his words seemed to have no effect on the situation. He was in charge and yet it felt like he had no say in this. He wanted nothing more to do with it. "We will speak of this no further."

By this point, Anti was incredibly irked and found that he couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. "You are going to be king one day, and you expect to be as successful as your father? At this rate you’ll never measure up to him! What kind of example do you intend to set if you do not grow up and take some responsibility to provide for your kingdom? When will you accept your role as a ruler and quit avoiding every opportunity to-"

"Enough! That is not your decision to make!" This struck a nerve for him. He could only take so much of Anti patronizing him and he quickly got to his feet, his hands slamming on the table in protest. "I am the prince and I run this kingdom, not you! Do not speak to me like I am some kind of naive child!"

Anti fell silent. Marvin noticed and he brought his voice level down significantly.

He waited a few moments, took a deep breath, then sighed. "I told you, I decline. I will not risk the safety of my people or my army. You would do well to accept that, Anti."

"But-"

"You are my advisor, not my father. You have no authority over me. You are merely here to assist me in my daily affairs. I make the decisions, not you." It seemed he always had to remind him of his place...

He hesitated, swallowing back his agitation. "Yes, my liege...." He bit his tongue, so hard that he could taste a slight tang of blood in his mouth. He had to bite back whatever bitter insult he so longed to spit into the prince's face.

Marvin never noticed anything out of the ordinary and sat back down in his chair once he’d calmed down. He stared down at the paper in front of him with thought before picking it up and crumpling it into a ball in his hand. "Look....” He began. “I will remind you again not to step out of line."

"Yes, of course.... My humblest apologies, my lord. It seems I have allowed myself to lose my composure again...” His words were almost dramatic. The tone he used was excessively apologetic. So much so that any other person would suspect that it was all an act, like a jester putting on a terrible theater play, portraying a character that anyone could see right through. “I hope you will have mercy on me...." He bowed deeply with his left hand over his chest. No matter how many times this happened, he always acted so sincere, and Marvin believed him. He felt that he had no reason to doubt him.

He never looked back at Anti. In fact, he seemed to intentionally avoid looking directly at him. Instead, Marvin breathed a heavy sigh and after a few moments of silence, he offered his answer. "Of course…." He said calmly. Even though Anti tended to lose his cool, he worked efficiently at his job and Marvin couldn't bring himself to punish him. He wanted to be fair but perhaps he wasn't being firm enough. 

It didn't matter right now. His mind was tired and he was at his limit. He just wanted to finally be rid of all of the stress of this day. "Please, Anti, if you don't mind, I think I'm done with my duties for today. I'm exhausted…."

More annoying delays... He wanted to protest again but quickly caught himself and held back before he could make a sound. "Understood... We can continue this matter tomorrow. I will just take my leave then." He bowed to him once again. However, he never once took his cold, harsh glare off of him. The expression on his face was disturbingly calm, but his eyes were like icy daggers. It was like his stare alone could impale you just the same as any sharp blade.

Again, Marvin failed to notice this and laid his forehead directly on his desk, both arms dangling lazily at his sides. He really acted so immature sometimes... It didn't matter anymore though because Anti hastily turned on his heel and exited the room, not wanting to waste another moment he could be spending elsewhere.

Stepping out into the hall, he passed by another servant, JJ to be exact, who was carrying a tray of dessert for the prince in his hands. Anti marched down the corridor, the weight of his boots on the carpet let anyone within earshot know of his presence. JJ felt his shoulders stiffen when he noticed Anti ahead of him. He knew that they would inevitably cross paths so he made a great effort not to accidentally make eye contact with the intimidating man in front of him. Though his head remained facing forward the whole time, as he passed him, JJ swore he caught a glimpse of that same icy stare glancing at him with disgust. The moment was so short but the weight of his stare was almost suffocating. And as he walked away, the wind from his cape trailing behind him carried a bitter chill to it that made Jamie shudder.

As scared as he was of Anti though, he couldn’t help but stop in his tracks and turn back to catch a glimpse of him walking away with a posture so tall and full of pride… He looked so normal from a distance but up close, Anti was terrifying. He tried to just shake it off and pay no mind to his unsettling presence though. He had important matters that needed his attention, and after a few moments of staring, he turned around and continued down the corridor to Marvin's study.

He carefully knocked on the door when he’d reached it. Seconds later, he heard Marvin's muffled voice from the other side, permitting him to enter. He entered the room slowly and closed the door behind him. The first thing he saw was Marvin sitting with his arms folded on the desk and his head buried in his arms. He looked… comfortable... He didn't want to disturb him so he set down the tray on the desk in front of him and gave his shoulder a gentle tap.

When Marvin looked up, he saw a lovely piece of fruit cake on a small plate waiting for him. Then he noticed JJ looking at him with concern written in his expression. He quickly corrected his posture and shook the hair away from his face to quickly fix himself up for his friend and make it seem like nothing was out of the ordinary. Maybe JJ wouldn’t notice his tiredness.

"Oh- Hey, Jamie" he greeted as naturally as he could. However, JJ could see the fatigue on his face, plain as day.

"Is everything alright?" He signed. Seeing as how Anti had just left the room and Marvin being so worn out, he suspected that Anti had lost his temper again. This seemed to be a pattern with Anti and JJ wasn't at all pleased with the way he overstepped his boundaries with the prince.

Anti carried the blood of a dark elf in his veins and, while his kind had been wiped out by humans long ago, it seemed that his temperament matched that of his ancestors. It was a characteristic of his, yet it always made JJ wonder why Anti would take on a role in serving the royal family. Shouldn't he have a grudge on the royal bloodline for the destruction of his kind? As curious as he was, Jamie couldn't bring himself to ask. Anti was terrifying enough as it was. But why on earth would someone with such a short fuse like him work such a tedious job like this one? He should know what to expect by now.

"Did something happen with Anti?" He inquired worriedly, already expecting the answer he dreaded to hear.

He picked up the plate from the tray and placed it in front of himself. He didn't know how to answer him. He knew that if he said yes, JJ would scold him again for letting Anti lose his cool. But he couldn’t lie. Not to Jamie. "Well…" he paused, choosing his words carefully. "He just got a little heated again. It's no big deal though. I took care of it-"

Already he could see JJ's expression harden and his brows furrowing in anger. The mute wasn't usually one to lose his temper but when it came to his best friend, he became quite defensive.

"Marvin, you cannot allow him to disrespect you like that." He signed his name… Now Marvin knew just how serious he was. Even his hands moved more vigorously as he signed.

Marvin raised his shoulders and his cheeks flushed with shame. He knew that JJ was only concerned for him but he still felt as if he was a child who was being verbally chastised over a small mistake. Truthfully, he felt hopeless.

"It's fine, JJ. I have it all under control. It's nothing I can't handle-"

"Don't you see? He's doing more harm than good. He's stressing you out. Why do you continue to employ him?"

Marvin was silent. He stared down at the untouched cake in front of him, trying once again to find his words. "I can't just fire him. He might be impatient sometimes or lose his cool, but I feel like he has potential… You know?" He paused. "I mean… Surely, he's trying to better himself. Right? He deserves a chance at that…" He tried so hard to defend him and justify his cruel actions.

There was more to it than that and JJ could tell that he had more reason to want to trust Anti. He had a feeling he knew what it was too... Anti had been working at the castle for a long time. Longer than himself and many of the other servants. He had previously been under the employment of the king and only continued to serve under the prince. Marvin didn't want to fire him because he felt that he was the closest living person to his father. He certainly trusted him enough to allow him into the royal court… He just couldn't let go of someone who worked so closely with his father. Anti was the only one in the castle who spent all of his time with the king. If anyone knew how the king worked, it was him and Marvin believed him to be the only one who could show him how to be just as good as his father.

JJ had to admit, he felt a small bit offended. It seemed that Marvin saw Anti as more of a figure of guidance than him… In a way, he was disappointed that his best friend didn’t perceive him in that way. Despite all of that though, his reason for keeping the elf in power was personal and so JJ didn't want to press the matter further. Besides, the reasons didn't matter. It was clear that Marvin really trusted Anti as his advisor and didn't have the heart to remove him from his staff.

Marvin could see JJ looking at him intently with a very puzzled stare, as if he was staring into his mind trying to pick apart his very thoughts for trusting such a foul individual. "Look, don't worry about Anti. I know he's a bit… Unorthodox? But he deserves just as much a chance to work here as anyone else… Please, just give him a chance, okay?" 

Hearing those words reminded JJ of how kind Marvin really was as a person. Naive, no doubt, but kind. It was concerning sometimes, especially in this case. He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that there was nothing he could say to change the prince's mind. He didn't trust Anti one bit and, the way he saw it, Anti was faking his respect for the prince because when he was anywhere but by the prince's side, his demeanor changed. It was ominous and conniving. All of the servants knew it. There was always something going on behind his mask of loyalty but no one truly knew what he was thinking. It was disturbing to say the least.

JJ sighed in defeat. "I will trust your judgment, my friend." He addressed him more personally. "But please watch your back around him. Don't let him get away with his power..."

It was apparent that JJ didn't trust Anti. In fact, he was aware that multiple people in his staff felt very put off by Anti in general but Marvin still had faith in him. Besides, even if Anti lost his temper from time to time, he always seemed to catch himself and correct his behavior. Why would he punish someone who was just doing their best?

"Don't worry, Jamie. I'll keep an eye on him." He looked at him, giving him a confident, reassuring smile. He’d hoped that JJ could see things the way he did and trust in his judgment and it seemed he did a good job convincing him.

The atmosphere seemed kind of tense now after their conversation but then Marvin suddenly remembered the cake that he still had yet to touch. It had completely slipped his mind and he awkwardly fumbled for the fork that was still resting on the tray that JJ had brought in, eager to change the subject to something else.

"Oh! But this cake sure looks incredible-" He declared with renewed excitement. He scooped a generous helping of cake onto the small fork and took a taste of the beautiful dessert. It tasted just as good as it looked. It was dense and sweet and it was the perfect thing to help him relax after such a long day of meetings. “Hmm… Thank you, Jamie…”

Usually, Marvin would not be allowed to have junk food before dinner since it would spoil his appetite, but JJ decided that he would make an exception for today. It had been a long day and this was the perfect thing to help him relax before his bedtime eventually rolled around. Until then, JJ would let him take his time and enjoy his cake. He was just happy to see him smiling and enjoying himself for the first time all day. It was probably the most rewarding thing about being Marvin’s valet; getting to cheer him up when he needed it most. He smiled sweetly at him and signed once more. “Of course, my friend.”

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I hope its still okay to tag you all? ^^’

@jack-and-sammy @geekyfox2 @fanaticallyperfect @cryptid-bwoid 

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ twenty-one

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 7.2k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, fighting, smut ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act three ➻ part three  ​​

​​​

“I said keep your leg straight!”

“It is straight,” you counter, huffing through your teeth as Yunho smacks the underside of your calf yet again. It’s probably the fourth time he’s done so in the past twenty minutes, and he tells you to straighten your leg each time even though it’s already perfectly straight.

“You need to get your eyes checked, because that is most definitely not straight.” Yunho pulls away from the bed you’re lying back on, and you let your leg fall back to the mattress so you can sit up and glare at the back of his head.

“You’re the doctor here, so why don’t you check them if you think there’s an issue?”

“Your attitude is the issue here.”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be nice to me? Is that any way to talk to your patient?”

“If you did your exercises properly, maybe I would be nicer!” Yunho chastises, coming back to the edge of the bed with arms crossed over his chest. You resist the urge to roll your eyes but fall back to the mattress anyway and start doing the exercises again.

“I am doing them properly,” you grumble. Seonghwa laughs from off to the side. He leans up against the wall, arms crossed like Yunho’s, and in all honesty, you had forgotten that he was standing there all this time. You don’t quite understand why he’s on the ship today; the only thing you were told is that it was per Hongjoong’s request. The captain took Yeosang with him to the city instead of Seonghwa, and San went along again as well. Based on Seonghwa and Yunho’s exchanged whispers that ceased when you came into the medbay, it has something to do with you. You want to ask about it, but Yunho interrupts your train of thought by speaking again.

“I wish Hongjoong would let me off the damn ship for one day. Just one.” He glances over at Seonghwa and plops down on his rolling stool that he’s left near your bed. “I haven’t been back here in years.”

“Can I stop yet?” You interject, a slight whine to your words. Yunho pays you no mind though, so you just continue to do the exercises while he speaks to Seonghwa.

“It’s wintertime on Kebos, which means winter festivals! And snow! When do we ever get to see snow?” Yunho slaps his palms against the bed. You jolt a little, whipping your chin to look at him. “Do you remember me telling you about it, Y/N?”

“W-What?”

“The winter festivals on Kebos?”

“I – no, I don’t remember us ever having that conversation.”

Yunho sighs and sits up straight again. He leans forward to tap your knee. For a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to do the exercises properly again, so you prepare to smack him, but he doesn’t.

“That’s enough for today. I can’t wear you out too much before you go spar.”

“Thank goodness,” you mutter, falling back to the mattress with a deep heave.

“Okay, but back to the festival thing – we’re near the capital Reinig. Literally at the town right outside Reinig. I could take a day trip to the city to see the festival! But no, no, no. Not allowed. The healer has to stay on the ship even when there’s no one to heal!” Yunho waves his hand through the air before bringing it to his pale locks. Seonghwa offers a smile that’s filled with fondness. His arms fall away from his chest, and he blinks over at you for a few seconds then turns back to Yunho.

“Maybe Hongjoong can slow down for a day,” Seonghwa suggests. “Let everyone have some time for themselves to do… anything they want to do. That way you could go to the festival. Maybe you could bring Wooyoung along? You’d have to take Yeosang as well, but that might not be so bad.”

“Hm, that would be nice.” Yunho hums and thumbs over his chin as he considers Seonghwa’s offer. “Wooyoung doesn’t get to see many nice or relaxing things, so the festival might be a good opportunity for him to take a step back. Yeosang is just – well, he’s Yeosang. He hates everything.”

Seonghwa releases a loud snort. “You’ve never been more accurate.”

“If we did that, I would want to bring you along, Y/N.” You snap your chin back towards Yunho, eyes narrowing in a second. You don’t want to shoot the idea down, but Yunho is well aware of your desire to stay on the ship where it is safe and sound. Away from the military and the idea of being in such a dangerous sector of the universe. Out the corner of your eye, you spot Seonghwa opening his mouth as well, and he seems ready to refuse the suggestion for you. Yunho lifts a hand to stop him before he can talk. “Listen to what I have to say as the healer of this crew. One way to confront emotional and mental trauma is through trauma-focused cognitive-behavioral therapy. You know what that is?”

You blink away from Yunho, lips parted and expression contorted in a confused manner. Seonghwa is in a similar predicament, and when you lock gazes, he shrugs a little.

“Yeah, of course, we don’t, Yunho. You’re the doctor here.”

“It’s like talking to two brick walls, I swear.”

“Are we at least good-looking brick walls?” You tease with a cheeky grin.

“No comment, you little shit.” Yunho jabs his index finger at your face, so you take that answer as a ‘yes’ and pull yourself into a sitting position with a more pleased smile now. “Anyway, the process involves gradually exposing yourself to feelings and situations that remind you of a trauma and replacing distorted and irrational thoughts about the experience with a more balanced picture. So the idea is to expose you to a place that brings you discomfort and is tied to bad memories. Once exposed, we would try to replace those emotions with good ones and reshape your perception of the place, while breaking down some of the trauma you’ve faced. Overcome trauma, alleviate some of your pain and distress, and have a good time. Make sense now?”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Seonghwa nods, eyes trailing over your form.

“Okay, so now you see why I want you to come with. As much as I want you to come with though, I want you to make the final decision. If Hongjoong allows it, that is.” Yunho’s gaze returns to Seonghwa, and he looks up at the lieutenant with a hopeful gleam in his dark eyes. Seonghwa shakes his head ever so slightly, but his smile persists even as he pushes away from the wall and walks closer to where Yunho is sitting. He punches the healer’s arm, swing light, and Yunho laughs in response.

“It’s up to Hongjoong and Y/N then.”

“Perfect!” Yunho grins. It quickly dissolves as he begins to make shooing motions towards Seonghwa. “Go wait in the hall for a few minutes now. I gotta ask some private doctor questions that you don’t need to be around for.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes but steps closer to the door. He stops to look back at you, a slight smile playing at his lips. “Yell if he starts acting weird.”

“Oh, quit it! Get out before I smack you.” Seonghwa has to dodge Yunho’s weakly swung arm, but he doesn’t get away completely unscathed as he runs into the doorframe on his way out, and you have to stifle your laughter along with Yunho until he’s completely gone. “Okay, okay,” Yunho exhales through a chuckle. “Now that we have some privacy let’s talk about how you’ve been mentally and emotionally. How are you sleeping? Flashbacks, nightmares, anything like that?”

“No,” you utter without thinking twice, and Yunho blinks back in surprise. You hesitate before correcting yourself. He’s told you already that you don’t need to be embarrassed about things not working or going well, that it’s part of the process, and there will be slip-ups along the way, but it still feels like you’ve failed in some way. Your old squad from the military – predominantly Jisung – has been haunting your dreams and intruding on your thoughts without rest. Even Yunho’s medications do nothing to cease their presence. Yet whenever one comes along, you can’t push it out or ignore it, which is probably what you should be doing. You just let yourself slip into the memories and be consumed by them. The only relief you get is when you talk to someone because that provides an ample amount of distraction for a while.

“Y/N?” Yunho snaps his fingers in front of your face. You shake your head a little and look him in the eye. “You spaced out on me. All good?”

“Y-Yeah, um, the medications aren’t working,” you admit. Yunho’s lips press into a delicate frown, but he doesn’t seem surprised at all by the information. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and it’s hard to get rest when I do sleep. I just… constantly have nightmares of my time in the military. Some flashbacks during the day as well.” Yunho nods at your words, then he hums to himself for a moment.

“Is that the only thing you’ve been struggling with?” He asks next.

“I mean, talking to San helped clear the air a lot about t-that whole issue. Not completely. Something still feels off and wrong, but thinking about it doesn’t make me as afraid as it used to.”

“That’s really good, Y/N. Even small steps are progress. I’m glad to hear it. As for sleeping issues, I can adjust your dosage and have the new medicine ready by tonight. We can test it out and see how well it works. Not a permanent solution, but something for now.”

“Okay, yeah, we can do that.”

“Now concerning your memories of the military… where do you think that’s coming from? Has it started since we entered Aurum, or is it something else? Is Kebos a source of trauma for you as well?” Yunho has that all too familiar tablet in his hands, and you resist the urge to clam up and panic at the thought of him having all your weaknesses written down in it.

“Um, no, Kebos isn’t.”

“I want to move back to Kebos once I retire from the military.”

You can’t keep the memory from slipping through. Your jaw stutters as you try to recover from the sudden lapse in speech, and if Yunho notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he settles for patiently waiting for you to continue your thought.

“It’s j-just Aurum. Uh, sorry, it’s Eros. The idea of being near Eros stresses me out. Makes me remember my time in the military and the things I experienced while there.” You look up to the ceiling as to avoid Yunho’s piercing gaze. The heat of his stare lingers on you. Silence envelops the air between you for what feels like hours. Then, Yunho pipes up again with another question.

“What is your earliest memory, Y/N?”

“My – my what?” You stammer. The question is random, the last thing you were expecting for him to ask, but Yunho just repeats himself without seeing the oddness of his inquiry.

“Your earliest memory. As far as you can remember.”

“I, um, I don’t really know,” you trail off, shaking your head a bit as you speak. It’s all honesty on your part for once, because you truly don’t recall much about your childhood or life before the military. Everything is hazy as though there is a film over your vision up until the moment you joined the military. “I remember… voices and, uh, people telling me things while growing up, but I can’t picture it or see it in my mind. I don’t know who the people talking are, I just hear their voices. Occasionally I think I remember an old man from my childhood, but he seems to be more of an extension of my dreams. I only see him there but have no memories of him. The earliest thing I remember is joining the military.”

Yunho’s hand hesitates over the tablet. “How old were you when you joined?”

“Around fourteen.”

“Ah…” Yunho’s voice dies almost immediately, expression crumbling a little. “Fourteen.” You don’t want to look at him, but you can hear what sounds like pity in his voice. “Do you remember anything at all about the first fourteen years of your life?”

“I have vague recollections of water. Flowing water and crashing waves and foggy skies. But I really can’t remember more than that,” you say after a slight pause.

“That’s strange,” Yunho mutters back. “No recollection of the first fourteen years of your life. How old are you again?”

“U-Uh, twenty-one.”

“So, two-thirds of your life are empty memories.”

“I’ve never really thought too much about it. Figured that what I went through in the military was enough to block it out.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s a possibility. Do you any happy or – or fond memories? A person or a place that brings you joy?”

Bright eyes and a round smile come to mind in an instant. It isn’t just Jisung this time though; everyone in your unit makes an appearance at the forefront of your mind. The oldest of your group, Hyunwoo, with his broad shoulders and towering persona that always felt so intimidating despite how harmless he was with you all. Jisung’s closest friend, Juyeon, with his dark blue hair and clear laugh that was always resounding through every room he stepped through. Soojin, the only other girl on the squad, as deadly as she was charming and beautiful. And Ash, barely older than you – maybe only a few weeks older at best – who always looked up to Jisung like he held the universe in his hands. If the universe was your ragtag group of neglected recruits, then perhaps Jisung did hold it in his hands. At one time, each and every single one of them brought you joy and happiness. Made you feel warm, comforted, and wanted.

How did it all end so badly?

You can only feel cold and desolate as you think about them now. Guilt eats away at your gut, and you frantically try to push the memories aside before it consumes you and sends you into a frenzy.

“N-No,” you rush to answer Yunho’s initial question. “No, none at all.”

A frown paints his lips, one that is painful to look at, so again, you avoid his face in favor of looking at the ceiling.

“Well, I want to try to make some happy memories for you then. And maybe show you that you have people here now who can bring you joy and comfort. Hopefully, Hongjoong will let us go down to Reinig for a day in the very least.” A sigh passes through Yunho’s lips, then the sound of him tapping away at his tablet resounds shortly after. “You’re free to go spar with Seonghwa now.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and getting to your feet. Yunho stops you before you move for the door though. He latches a hand around your wrist and blinks up at you all of a sudden.

“You’re doing well with the physical therapy, Y/N. Staying on top of it and putting in effort. I can tell you’re taking it seriously this time, and I’m proud of you for that. Not just as your doctor, but as a friend too. You’re doing well.”

The words shouldn’t hit you as hard as they do. You manage a weak nod and shaky smile, then step around Yunho’s chair to step through the door. His words linger like a bad taste on your tongue. You can’t tell whether they make you feel good or not; there was almost an ulterior meaning to what he said that causes your gut to twist and coil. Pushing out of the medbay, you heave a deep sigh and find Seonghwa standing just outside the door. He’s leaned up against the wall, arms back over his chest, and the second he sees you, he pushes himself into an upright position.

“Are you still up for some sparring?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you mutter. Falling into step beside him, you press your hands against your sides, nails digging into your palms. Thinking about the squad was a bad idea, because now you can’t get them out of your mind. Jisung alone was bad enough, but you know where this train of thought is headed, and it’s going to take you straight to those tall brick walls and public execution again. The broad shoulders of the man under a black hood with chains around his wrists.

“You’re getting closer with Jongho and Wooyoung,” Seonghwa cuts through your impeding thoughts with his clear tone, almost sensing your sudden distress and pushing it to the side like it’s nothing. “I’m glad to see it.”

“If this is an attempt at small talk, you’re awful at it,” you tease. Seonghwa huffs a laugh through his nose and shakes his head, but he obviously isn’t too bothered by your comment. “But yes, I am. They don’t ask questions incessantly like some people do.”

“Is that a dig at me?” Seonghwa scoffs, clutching his chest as though offended.

“That’s for you to figure out, pretty boy.”

“It’s also nice to see that you haven’t forgotten your little nickname for me, princess.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes a little, punching at the keypad outside the training room. You smile in response. The memories of Jisung and your old squad are slowly fading away and leaving you with a new sense of peace, at least for the time being. “Do you need to warm up?”

“I’ll just do some stretches,” you answer, moving for the mat while Seonghwa heads for the cabinets to retrieve the tape as he always does. You plop down on the mat, a small oof leaving you. “By the way, how did things go yesterday?”

Seonghwa glances back at you, rifling through the cabinet, and he doesn’t answer right away. You keep your eyes on him while you stretch. His movements are languid even as he wraps the tape around his wrists and hands.

“Everything went well,” he says at last, coming to join you on the mat. He lingers at the edge and tosses the tape onto your lap before starting to stretch a bit himself. “Not much progress yet, but Hongjoong thinks it will take upwards of a week to take care of everything. He has to meet with several other captains of pirate crews while here – discuss business over the inventory in the cargo hold as well as figure out positions of military ships and units, those sorts of things. I’ll be joining him again tomorrow as we have some treaties to negotiate with a couple of crews concerning free travel. It isn’t free to fly around after all. We need to restock some basic necessities too. Food, drink, medical supplies, clothes. Hongjoong will be looking into bringing on some new crew members as well. And of course – Siren hunting.”

You exhale a huff. “He’s a busy man. I’m surprised. I figured he just didn’t give a flying fuck about anything other than Sirens.” Grabbing the tape from your lap, you pull yourself into a sitting position then start to wrap the material around your hands like Seonghwa did. He smiles at your words.

“Hongjoong takes care of many things and manages a lot as the captain. It may not seem like it at times because of his focus on Sirens, but he’s not a captain for nothing.”

You pull yourself up to your feet once you finish wrapping your wrists, not bothering to respond to Seonghwa’s comment, and kick your shoes off the side of the mat.

“Let’s go, pretty boy,” you tease, falling into an offensive stance. Seonghwa’s lips quirk further up as he mimics your position, his own shoes thrown off to the side as well.

“Someone is more confident than usual.”

You answer with a swift kick swung into Seonghwa’s side, and he’s caught off-guard by your haste and power. He rolls out of the way before you can hit him, a quiet laugh leaving his lips as he dodges you. Your moves are more confident and powerful, but only because of Yunho’s incessant urgings that you do your physical therapy and exercises so often. You haven’t sparred with Seonghwa in around a week; Jongho has been taking his place in recent days. Seonghwa would kill you if you said it out loud, but Jongho is a much harder opponent.

“You’re getting your strength back, I see.” Seonghwa catches your next swing, twisting you around, and you have to hook a foot around his ankle to maintain your balance. “Give it a few weeks and you’ll be better than ever.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet,” you laugh as you pull your arm out of his tightening grip. You slide back across the mat to put some more distance between the two of you, gaging his movements carefully.

“Oh, then I’d love to see the full thing.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, pretty boy.” He steps left, more weight on his left foot than his right. “You’ll lose your footing if you do.” You lunge forward and throw your right foot into his. The impact, along with his unbalanced weight, causes him to stumble backward. He nearly tumbles to the ground but catches himself at the last second.

“How about we make it a competition then?” He asks through a clear laugh. “Two of three falls. Five seconds down, just like we did during our first spar.”

You stand up straight and tap at your chin. “There’s no incentive for me to win.”

“Maybe I’ll let you pin me down if you win. Last time you tried it was cute.”

You roll your eyes at his cheeky comment. If it’s an effort to get you riled up and agree to the challenge, then it works quite well because now you really want to plant his ass on the mat and win. Thus, you drop your hands to your hips and tilt your head at the man across from you.

“Okay, if I win then… you get to clean up dinner dishes all by yourself. I normally do it with either Jongho or Wooyoung, and we get no help from anyone else. So, you deserve to do it alone for once. For fairness. You should know what it feels like. And it would be awfully amusing to see the Lieutenant of Death doing dishes.”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in response to your terms. “It’s a good thing that I am going to win then.”

“What do you want if you win?” He doesn’t answer right away; instead, he tilts his head from side to side a few times before letting his sharp gaze settle back on you.

“You’ll find out when I win.”

“You’re too cocky.”

Seonghwa takes the aggressive stance you had before, and he barely lets you finish speaking before he’s crossing the mat. You swing your arms up to block the oncoming attack. Despite the intensity in his moves, they are still quite simple and easy to read. You slip out of his way time and time again, but in your haste, you neglect to watch his feet. Seonghwa slides a foot between yours right as he swings a jab at your hip. You try to sidestep to avoid the attack, and your foot catches on his. The impact sends you to the ground, Seonghwa goes down with you, and a second later, you find yourself pinned to the mat. Seonghwa leans over you, a cocky smirk painting his lips. You struggle against his grip, but he’s too strong for you to escape in this awkward position.

“Five seconds. One for me. Zero for you.”

Seonghwa rolls off of you and gets to his feet. You stay down, however, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, and glare up at him. He extends a hand towards you, which you nearly take, but at the last second, you get an idea and shift your weight on the mat. Taking his hand, you wait for him to shift all his weight into his forward leg then yank hard. He stumbles and almost lands on top of you. You duck out of the way just before he hits you. Your grip on his hand persists, and you twist his arm behind his back and swing a leg over his back. Without the use of both arms, you have Seonghwa successfully pinned to the mat, your weight keeping him down with ease. Seonghwa manages to huff out a laugh as you bend at the waist to taunt him.

“That’s five seconds,” you whisper close to the shell of his ear. Releasing his wrists, you sit back and climb off Seonghwa’s body to let him get up properly. Before you have the chance to get to your feet, a sudden force hits you square in the chest, and you fall back to the mat. “Fuck.” Seonghwa’s weight is back on you a moment later. His knees press against your hips so hard that you can’t even try to wiggle out of the hold, and he keeps your wrists planted firmly on the mat.

“You were saying?”

“That’s a cheap trick, Park Seonghwa.”

“You played that card first, princess.”

“I’m at a disadvantage.”

“How so? Because you’re a girl? Weaker than me? No. You aren’t at a disadvantage because we’re equals in the ring and outside the ring. It’s only fair that I treat you as my equal no matter what.”

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. Seonghwa knocked most of the air out of your lungs when he sent you down to the mat again, but you’re also a bit worked up from the exercise. Seonghwa is in a similar predicament; sweat drips down the side of his face, a few stray drops hitting the mat near your head. Your body reacts before your mind does, but you blame the close proximity and intimate fighting for how you’re feeling.

“But anyway… I won, princess.”

“What do you want then?” Seonghwa dips his chin to his chest, a small laugh reverberating before he looks back into your eyes.

“I want no one else to be on the ship right now because I would love to fuck you into the mat.” You choke on your saliva, teeth clattering as you snap your lips together. The boldness of his words is shocking enough, but what he actually said has you getting flustered within a second. “But, I suppose I can settle for a kiss instead.”

“Y-You – you can’t just… say stuff like that,” you stammer, blinking away from his face. His gaze persists though, and even out the corner of your eye, you can see the way his stare lingers on your lips.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” The question is whispered, but it sounds so loud in your ears. You bring your chin forward again and look Seonghwa in the eye. He doesn’t move, watching and waiting for a sign of approval or denial from you.

“Please,” you whisper back. Seonghwa closes the already minimal distance between your lips. They’re just as soft as you remember them to be, but there’s a bit more hunger when he kisses you this time. He doesn’t let the touch stay sweet and innocent for long, tongue swiping over your bottom lip. A small whine slips through as you part your lips for him, and his tongue meets yours in a sudden clash for dominance. He hums against you, the grip on your wrists tightening ever so slightly, and you lean into his touch without second thought. His lips leave yours too soon for your liking. “W-We – we shouldn’t do th-this here.”

Seonghwa’s eyes drag over your face as he nods. “My room is closer than yours.” Again he hesitates, waiting for you to give some sort of response, and he alleviates the pressure on your wrists to sit back on his heels.

“Hurry up and take me there then before we get caught.” That’s all the permission Seonghwa needs. His hands dart down to your thighs, pulling them around his waist, and you let him hoist you up. He’s stronger than he looks, you have to give him that because the lithe form and lean muscles do not look like he should be able to lift you and stand up with the added weight with such ease. He manages to do it without batting an eye. “What if someone is in the corridor?” You ask under your breath, bringing a finger up to trace over his rosy lips.

“Do you want me to put you down already?”

“Not really but – but you probably should just to be safe.” Seonghwa’s lips twitch into a smile, and he helps you untangle from around his waist.

“Lead the way then, princess.” His smile is teasing as you turn towards the door. Then, the flat of his hand comes down on your ass, and you gasp, whipping your head back towards him. “You don’t know where my room is though, so I’ll take the lead.”

“I hate you,” you grumble, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he steps past you and leads the way out of the training room.

“Say that after I fuck you into the mattress.” The comment has you choking on your spit again, and you nearly trip over the threshold of the door. The walk to his room is both brief and awkward. He walks a little ways in front of you, and even though you’re trying to avoid looking suspicious, you think that your motives are quite obvious. Especially as you reach his room and he taps at the keypad to open the door. You follow his steps as closely as you can without stepping on his heels. Once you’re both in his room, the air of awkwardness is dispelled. His hand finds the back of your neck, the other traveling to your hip, and he pushes you back against the cool metal door. You meet him halfway, lips crashing together in a mess of skin and teeth.

He kisses you with a bruising force, hands slipping away to press against the door instead. You hum against him and loop your own hands around his back to pull him flush against your body. Both of your movements are frantic and rushed, a stark difference compared to last time’s slow ministrations. You fumble for the hem of his shirt, trying and failing to grab at it. Seonghwa pulls back from your lips and gasps for air. He simultaneously yanks his shirt up and off his body. The only noise you can make in response is a startled moan, then his hands return to your body, grabbing the hem of your shirt. Your hands move by instinct to cover his and stop him from pulling it off of you.

“We can stop if you want,” Seonghwa whispers. His forehead falls against yours, and you could cry at the gentleness of his tone and actions. Instead, you shake your head slowly.

“N-No, I don’t want to stop. I… I want you,” you reply, voice equally as quiet. You know you should talk this through with him first, especially after the first time you had sex, but you’ve already made up your mind about this. Something about Seonghwa makes you trust him, and his visual and sexual appeal is very tangible. Still, you aren’t much of the type to go for one-night stands or quick fucks. With Seonghwa, it feels different from a one night stand, as though there is some sort of connection between the two of you that spurs you to do this. His lips brush against yours as his hands find yours. Your fingers intertwine, the kiss growing deeper and deeper by the second.

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else; he stumbles back to pull you towards the bed. He falls to the mattress when his knees hit the edge. You bring your legs up to the bed, straddling his lap without breaking the soft kiss. You pull your hands away from his to grab at the edge of your shirt, and Seonghwa sits back to look at you fondly as you peel the material off your sweat-slick skin. There is a sudden shyness to your movements, and Seonghwa picks up on it in an instant. He brings his hands to your bare sides, tracing small circles against the skin as a form of encouragement. You swallow around nothing and reach around your back to peel the band around your chest off as well.

Seonghwa’s gaze never wavers, eyes peering so intently into yours that your breath hitches a little. It’s only when you drop the band to the floor that he moves, and his lips find yours in an instant. The pads of his fingers trail goosebumps along your skin as he drags them upwards. You gasp into his mouth when his thumbs ghost over your perked nipples, and he pinches them lightly. He pinches them again with a bit more force, causing you to throw your head back and release a throaty moan that’s far too loud. Seonghwa takes it as an opportunity to let his lips trail down to your neck. He sucks softly at the skin, and you know that he’s leaving marks as he goes lower and lower, but you can’t find it in you to care.

The bulge in his pants is pressing hard against the inside of his thigh, straining painfully against the fabric around it, and you stretch a hesitant hand down to palm him through his pants. Seonghwa moans around your nipple, lips parting around the skin. The noise spurs you on, and you hasten your movements to press hard against his concealed member. It’s enough to cause Seonghwa to shift, and he suddenly gets to his feet with you still wrapped around him. He twists in and instant and places you flat on your back against the bed as gently as he can.

When he stands up straight, you whine at the loss of contact and warmth, but you understand why a moment later because he fiddles with the button of his pants. You mimic his movements and tug at your own pants. Seonghwa grabs your ankles before you can fully get them off though. His pants are gone and forgotten on the floor, and he focuses all his attention on you, slowly pulling the material off to completely expose you to him. He moves to kneel on the bed, but you extend a hand and press it against his hip, a sudden boldness to your actions.

“C-Can I… can I suck you off?” You ask, tone so quiet you can barely hear yourself over the sound of your racing heart. Seonghwa’s jaw stutters a little, but he nods nonetheless and lets you guide him back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He groans as you slip off the mattress and between his legs. One hand trails over your forehead and brushes a few loose strands of hair out of the way. Now that you’re face to face with his member, you’re doubting yourself. You don’t do this often for obvious reasons; in fact, you think this might be only the second or third time to do this. Seonghwa keeps brushing over your skin with such gentle and soft touches that it pushes the insecurities to the side for the time being. You reach up to grip his member at the base then lean in to lick a long stripe up his cock.

A hiss leaves Seonghwa at the contact, and you repeat the motion once more before hesitating over his tip. You quickly blink up at him with fluttering lashes. His cheeks are already flushed, and sweat glistens on his skin. Still, his gaze is gentle on you, and you maintain that sweet eye contact as you begin to take his cock into your mouth. Seonghwa breaks the eye contact as your wet heat sinks down further. He throws his head back with a shaky groan, hand falling away from your head to grip the edge of the mattress tight. You hasten your bobs along his cock. His reaction spurs you along, the pretty string of moans escaping him like music to your ears. His hips twitch and jerk, but you can tell he’s holding back and trying to keep from fucking up into your mouth.

“H-Hold on, hold on, princess,” he stammers out, one hand returning to brush through your hair. You pull off him with a lewd pop and curious eyes. “I don’t wanna cum yet.”

“Oh,” you exhale and let your hand fall away from his hard cock. Seonghwa brings his fingers to your chin. You lean into the soft touch and bring yourself up again, Seonghwa’s hands guiding you to straddle his lap once more. Your lips brush over his, hot breath fanning your face as he exhales.

“Do you need me to prep you?” He whispers.

“I j-just want you to fuck me, please,” you plead and drape your arms over the man’s shoulders. He nods against you then reaches a hand down between your hips. You instinctively tighten your grip on him as he guides his cock to your entrance. Your gut coils a little when he pushes against you, but you do your best to relax your muscles to make it easier for the both of you.

“Relax, princess,” Seonghwa murmurs. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear before traveling lower to nip at the sensitive spot on your neck. He sinks further into you when your body relaxes around him. He bottoms out a moment later, and a breathy whine leaves you. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re okay.”

There’s so much warmth in his tone, the fire of his presence consuming you, and you shift your hips to bring him deeper in you.

“Fuck me, please.”

Seonghwa attaches his lips to your neck again, hands guiding your hips up and down along his cock. You try to help him a bit by bouncing a little on him, but the sensation of him being so deep in you is enough to have you slumping against his body like jelly after a minute. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit though; he just continues to nip and kiss your neck. Every once and a while, he’ll whisper soft praises against your skin. Each word sends shivers down your spine, and you clench around him at the sound of the praise.

You know you won’t last long like this, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem to be in a better predicament as he was already close before fucking you. You reach around the back of his head to tug at his hair. He pulls off your neck at the touch and looks you in the eye, brows furrowed in concentration as he continues to thrust into you. Your words die in your throat when you meet his gaze. Instead of speaking, you just lean in and press your lips to his. The gentle touch and soft prodding of his tongue against yours sends an orgasm crashing over you. You whine into his mouth, and Seonghwa just eats the sound up, thrusting into you only two more times before he cums as well. Your muscles fail you in that moment, but you cling to Seonghwa like he’s the only thing you have and ride out your orgasm with him. His lips are on your ear again, whispering and muttering sweet praises, but you can’t hear them through your pleasure.

You don’t know how long the two of you remain like that, clinging to each other and sucking in deep breaths of air with foreheads pressed together. The haze finally passes though, and you can hear his words clearly again.

“Do you want a shower?” Seonghwa asks, chest heaving from the exertion. You’re too fucked out to think straight, let alone speak, so you can only manage a few nods. “Am I going to need to carry you over there too?”

His teasing remark gives you just enough energy to slap his bicep. He tightens his arms around you and lifts you with ease though, and you settle into his touch as he carries you to the bathroom. You have to reassure him multiple times that’s you’ll be fine showering on your own, but he eventually lets you be and shuts the door to the bathroom to give you a bit of privacy. You don’t take too much time showering, only enough to get the rest of his cum out of you and wash the sweat off your body. Seonghwa left an impressive trail of marks from your collarbone down to your right hip. They vary in shade and color, but are quite visible nonetheless. A slight laugh escapes you as you trail a finger over them, then you shut the water off and step out to grab a towel from the rack. Only once you’ve fully dried off do you realize that he brought in a shirt and pants for you. They’re far too big for you, but it’ll do for the time being or at least until you get back to your own room later.

That might be much later than you anticipated, however, because when you step back into Seonghwa’s bedroom, you’re greeted by a sight that has you so stunned that you choke on air. The man – the supposed Elitist at that – has his back to you, and he’s pulling a shirt over his head when you step out. It gives you just enough time to trail your eyes over his bare back and spot a column of black tattoos lining his spine. Directly between his shoulder blades resides an insignia of flames. Aside from that, each and every tattoo is identical to the ones that decorate your own back.

“Holy fuck, no way–” Your voice fails you at the last second, but it’s loud enough for Seonghwa to hear you. He whips around, tugging the shirt all the way down as he looks back at you with wide eyes. “Y-You’re – you – holy shit, y-you’re–”

Seonghwa cuts you off, which is probably a good thing because you can’t come up with a coherent thought anyway.

“A Siren. Just like you.”

✧✧✧ a/n: okay okay OKAY i did it im 5 minutes late but i DID it jfc i didn’t expect it to be so long ;-; but in any case i hope you guys enjoy let me know what you think of this chapter it isn’t my best work but aslkdfjlkdsjf i tried and it’s crucial to the story ;-; so yeehaw woo i would love to hear your thoughts on this one!

if you would like to, you can take the survey here! you can take it at any point or again if you wanna or you’ve changed your mind, it’s up to you really laskdfjlkdf 

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[thegirlintheswivelchair]

You Owe Me Ice Cream || P.P.

Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: +6.4K (...I still write a lot)

Summary: You and Peter made a bet. You won, but right now, Peter is really just hoping he’ll get the chance to get that ice cream with you.

Warnings: Lots of angst (with a happy end). Violence, mentions of blood, surgery, near death moments, talk of death and major injury, anxiety, a few swear words, hospitals, but there is fluff around here somewhere. Let me know if I missed anything. (And as always, bad editing)

A/N: Hey, this is the first fight scene with a major injury I’ve written. (Also, it’s my second fic ever, so that too…) So I’m hoping this makes sense and isn’t too disappointing. It does shift tone a lot after the time lapse! Feedback, likes and reblogs are super duper appreciated

(Italics are a flashback)

——

You were on the other side of the alleyway from Peter. The pair of you were sparring with the rather large group of men you had been trailing since the beginning of patrol. They were putting up a good fight, but it seemed like you and Peter had the upper hand.

“Hey Spidey, if we get done here soon enough, that ice cream shop might still be open.” You spoke into your comms swiftly dodging a punch and kicking the legs out from under one of the men surrounding you.

“The one with the gigantic brownie sundaes?” Peter asked in return, glancing over his shoulder at you while simultaneously whipping one of the thugs he had webbed into the wall.

“Yeah, that’s the one! What do you think, whoever takes down more baddies buys?” You offer the bet, feeling confident as you concentrate your powers to your fists to deliver a stunning blow to the next available target. Your fist makes contact with their jaw, bright energy transferring across their face. They drop like a marionette.

“Oh, you’re on, Sparks.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as the two of you began fighting the men circled around you with new enthusiasm.

With fists glowing, you knocked the last man near you unconscious with a particularly nasty right hook. “Ha! That makes five, Spiderman. I think you might be buying.” You quipped, but your attention was immediately drawn to the other antagonists of the night who were focused on Peter. You ran deeper into the alleyway as Peter kept up his assault on the last two men, dodging their advances and throwing his own hits into the mix. Neither of you noticed one of the bodies on the ground stir, taking an odd looking contraption out of his pocket and aiming it at your oncoming figure.

Peter sensed the attack before it happened. Whipping around to warn you, he shouted your name, but it was too late. He saw the poisonous purple light pierce your stomach and throw you against the brick wall of the alleyway. Peter shot out a web, yanked the alien-tech from the attacker, and stuck it to the wall, quickly sending a taser web to stun the man once more.

He dodged the punches from the other thugs, and began sprinting in your direction as you slid down the wall, one arm holding your abdomen. You looked up at him shaking your head in warning and whispered the word “swing.” His enhanced hearing caught the word just in time to launch himself upwards when you summoned the last of your strength to finish the fight. Raising your hand, shining white hot and blinding, you slammed it against the ground. A pulse of energy flew from your fist at the impact sending the remaining thugs flying into the walls opposite you. Each one hit the brick with sickening crunches and crumpled to the ground.

The moment the wave had dissipated, Peter swung and landed next to you. He fell to his knees with his chest heaving. Big white eyes stared at you wide and panicked as he looked to the quickly darkening patch on your suit. Karen, his AI, was speaking to him, telling him about the injury you had sustained and the state of your vitals. Neither were good. You needed immediate medical attention or—He couldn’t finish the thought. He wouldn’t. He reached out to you, cupping your masked face with shaking hands. You looked up at him with pain in your eyes.

“Shit, Spidey. I’m so—I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the guy was waking up. I should—I should’ve—“ Your words were punctuated with your gasping pants as the adrenaline and your wound stopped you from breathing properly. With your free hand you pulled off your mask trying to get air.

“Hey, hey, no, no, no, it’s ok. It’s not your fault. We both thought he was down for the count.” Peter said his thumb rubbing across your cheek. “I gotta get you out of here. We need to get you to Dr. Cho.”

You looked down at your body. “He really—really got me good didn’t he...” Your voice sounded weak as you spoke. Peter noticed your eyes flutter.

“Y/N, keep your eyes open. You gotta stay with me.” Peter’s voice was soft but urgent. On the outside he seemed to have calmed down. He was trying to offer you strength as you struggled against the black that was closing around you. Just below the surface his heart was hammering in his chest. Fear coursed through his veins as his mind scrambled to think how he was going to move you—and to where. He didn’t think he could actually get you to Dr. Cho. The two of you were miles from the tower in the city.

“I’m not going anywhere spider-boy,” You answered weakly, “You owe me ice cream.” Your lips twitched up slightly as you stared at him with heavily lidded eyes.

Peter wanted to smile, but he saw your grip on your stomach loosen. You were losing too much blood. Red warning signs were starting to go off in the periphery of his mask, alerting him to the steadily sinking state of your health.  He needed to act somehow, and fast. He asked Karen about any hospitals, and she said there was an urgent care about 20 blocks north from your location...It would have to do.

Shifting around and getting into position to pick you up, one of his arms moved under your legs and the other stayed cupping your cheek as he said, “I’ll buy you all the ice cream you want after this, but you have to promise me you’ll stay awake, yeah? Now, we really need to get you help, Y/N/N.” You nodded sluggishly, and he moved his hand from your cheek to snake around your torso and lifted you up.

You let out a cry of pain as the movement jostled you. Your free hand came up to grip his shoulder as if to stop him from moving. The sound ripped through Peter, “I know. I know this hurts, but we gotta go. It’s only a mile from here. Just stay with me.” His soft voice broke at the end as he began to run. Whimpers and little cries of pain came from you with each step.

“Peter!” you yelped, “Peter, you have to—to stop!”

“I can’t, you’re bleeding out,” he said, slight panic finally making its way into his voice as he continued his run.

“Peter, please! I’m—I’m…” Your weak voice trailed off and the grip you’d had on Peter’s shoulder fell away to hang loosely at your side.

Peter skidded to a halt when he saw your eyes had shut. His lungs heaved with adrenaline and a new kind of fear that was sending shards of ice through his chest. “No, no, no, no, no! Y/N!” he called out loudly, “Y/N, open your eyes!”

When you still gave no response, he dropped to the ground placing you on his lap. He was cradling you against his chest with one arm and the other going to place new pressure on your wound. “Y/N! Come on, wake up!” He pleaded.

Focused on repeating his plea over and over as you laid unresponsive, he didn’t even realize Karen’s voice of warning had been replaced by another.

“Kid! Hey! Underoos!” A slightly gruff voice broke through Peter’s growing haze of hysteria.

His head snapped up, as if looking for the location of the voice. “Mr.—Mr. Stark?” he stuttered.

Tony spoke quickly through Peter’s comms, “Underoos, what the hell is going on? Friday’s alarm for Y/N’s vitals is going off. Kid, her stats are plummeting—“

“Mr. Stark! Y/N, she—she got shot by some kind of alien tech. It hit her stomach, and—and now she’s bleeding out. I didn’t—I didn’t see the guy waking up, and now...Oh my God, I can’t—she’s barely breathing.” Peter rushed out, stuttering as the panic was trying to take control. He was looking at your ashen face and hearing your heartbeat weaken slowly, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Peter, I’m on my way. I need you to breath,“ Tony said while a cascade of small metallic clinks could be heard over the comms, no doubt it was his nano-tech suit surrounding his body.

“But Mr. Stark, you’re not supposed to—“

“I can, and I will. She needs help. I’ll be there in five,” Tony said firmly.

Peter looked down at you, not answering his mentor. His hand was still pressed to your wound, and his chest pinched as he watched a dark stain transfer to his hand as he held you. “Please, Y/N/N… please stay with me…” he croaked leaning his forehead on yours.

He kept cradling you, listening to your heartbeat, and wishing with all he was that it would keep beating. Finally, he heard the sounds of thrusters and a low clank of metal hitting the ground.

Whipping his head in the direction of the iron suit, his grip tightened around you. “She’s—her heart...” His voice broke as he stared at the red and gold figure.

Tony, inside the suit, stepped closer answering quickly, “I know, Pete. I need to take her, so we can give her a fighting chance.” The suit whirred as he knelt in front of Peter's and your hunched figures, arms extending in an invitation for Peter to place your body into his care.

Peter hesitated, realizing this might be the last time he’d hear your heartbeat ever again. “I can’t lose her.” Peter’s voice was so small as he looked up at the Iron Man mask with his own bright white eyes. They seemed to plead with the retired superhero to make a miracle happen.

Tony spoke softly, “Then let’s go. Come on.” His hands gestured for your body.

Peter shifted your weight in his arms and gently laid you down in the arms of the iron suit. Immediately, Tony stood up, nodded to Peter, and launched himself into the sky rocketing in the direction of the tower.

Without missing a beat, Peter shot out a web and started to swing and follow your fleeting figure.

——

Peter’s whole body was screaming with fatigue as he finally made it to the tower. Clambering through the window Tony kept open for him, he practically fell on his face, but strong arms caught him and set him on his feet. Peter ripped off his mask, and looked up meeting Steve’s eyes. His brown eyes searched the blond’s face for any sign of how you were doing. “Y/N, is she—“ He broke off, not sure how to end that question. “I—I need to see her,” He breathed, trying to move from Steve’s grip, urged forward by his singular focus of making sure you were ok.

Steve’s grip only got stronger around Peter’s shoulders stopping him from rushing into the medical wing. “They’re still working on her, Peter. You won’t be allowed to see her.”

“But is she ok? Is—is she going to be ok?”

Steve looked into the young man’s eyes, brows pinched together, “They aren’t sure. She’s in critical condition, but they said there’s a chance she’ll make it through.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Peter whispered, “there’s a chance…” He set his jaw and nodded like he was solidifying his resolve not to freak out. You had a chance, and the thought lit a spark of hope at his core, and he was going to cling to it like a lifeline.

——

Peter was officially coming undone at the seams. For the last two hours he had seen nurses rushing in and out of the operating wing, some with extra gauze and others carrying new bags of blood. No one paused or came in with new information, and the lack of news was driving him crazy. His hair was sticking up in every direction now having been finger-combed and tugged on countless times. His eyes were burning holes into the ground when he wasn’t looking at the doors the medical team was frequenting. An anxious energy spilled from his body as he paced and bounced on his feet.

A few of the other team members who had trickled in to wait for news about you sat watching him move back and forth, unsure of how to comfort him. Tony had given up trying to get him to calm down an hour ago when he had gotten Peter to try and sit down only for him to fidget and jiggle his legs until Peter felt like he would explode from the anxiety and trapped emotions that were sizzling under the surface. Peter had jumped up the moment he saw a nurse come through the doors, but immediately groaned in frustration as the man had kept moving past the door. Spinning on his heel, he continued his pacing. Tony, seeing it was what helped distract him, let Peter resume pacing—even if it was making his own skin crawl. Anyone who tried to talk to Peter, or even tell him to change out of his suit was met with silence and an intense stare that told them to back off.

Another hour passed, and it didn’t matter how much he moved, how much he paced and tried to zone everything out, he was going to snap soon if he didn’t get an update. He was contemplating charging through the doors that led to where you were being operated on and demanding information, but he knew that wasn’t going to help anyone, especially you.

You—his partner in crime and in battle, the person he turned to when he needed a good hug or a laugh, the friend that challenged him and inspired him. You—the woman that was fierce, good, and beautiful. You—the one who had slowly taken root in his heart, the one he never wanted to let go of—were hanging on to life by a thread, all because he didn’t notice a thug waking up.

He should have been able to stop the attack or warn you faster. If you died…

The thought was enough to stop his breathing and still his movement—something he barely noticed as his mind was starting to crumble under the stress. He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. Immediately tensing up, he turned toward the intruder ready to lash out, but was met with familiar hazel eyes and his body language softened at the sight of his friend. Her hand came up to cup his cheek. “Breath, Peter,” she said quietly.

“Wanda…” Peter whispered as he tried to take a breath in.

“Just breath. Take a deep breath with me.” The hand on his cheek moved to his chest, and she breathed deeply while looking into his eyes. He followed her breath letting her presence ground him.

“Wanda...what if she doesn’t—” Peter murmured biting his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

“Don’t give those words power, Peter,” She said, cutting him off with her accent coming out strongly. Peter saw the worry around her eyes and realized she was saying this not only for him but for herself too. Wanda loved you. He knew losing you would be devastating for her.

Peter pulled Wanda into a bone crushing hug wanting to offer her comfort, and some kind of apology for everything that was happening, and he just really freaking needed a hug right now. She wrapped her arms around him, and they stayed that way just silently offering each other strength.

They didn’t break apart until they heard a small clearing of the throat coming from the door of the waiting room. Peter’s head snapped up, and moved to give his full attention to Dr. Cho.

“Do—Do you have news? How is she? Is she ok? Please tell me she’s ok.” Peter rushed out, eyes pleading with the woman.

She looked tired, but her face and body language didn’t suggest the news she had was bad. Instead, with a sigh that seemed relieved, she offered the room full of waiting Avengers a small smile as she said, “Y/N made it through the surgery, and should make a full recovery.” All around the room, mutterings of ‘thank God’ and huge sighs of relief were heard as Dr. Cho continued, ”You can go see her. She is in the room at the end of the hall recovering, but with her injuries being as bad as they were, we are keeping her sedated for the night to—”

Peter didn’t listen to the last part of what the doctor said. As soon as she had said you were going to make it, he had rushed passed her through the door and was running down the hallway looking into each room until he saw you in the room at the end. You were pale and wires were hooked up to you everywhere. An oxygen tube was placed under your nose, and an IV ran from your hand leading to drip bags. The room was filled with electrical noises and beeps, but all Peter could hear was your heartbeat. Your beautiful, strong, living heartbeat.

Peter rushed into the room and stopped at the head of your bed. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he ran the pads of his fingertips lightly over the side of your face gently trailing down your jaw line and coming back to delicately caress your cheek. You were warm to the touch, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt something more wonderful.

Suddenly, the world blurred, and he sucked in a violent breath of air. A sob broke from his mouth as he collapsed into the chair by the bed. The relief and the overwhelming release of all the emotions he had been keeping at bay that night were flooding out of his body with each sob. His hand found yours and he held onto it like his life depended on it. In his head, he could only think one thing:

She’s alive, She’s alive, She’s alive…

——

2 Months later

Right now, Peter had butterflies in his stomach so severe he was sure he was going to barf. He was sitting in the living room of the Avengers compound bouncing his legs and tapping his fingers in an attempt to relieve any of the nervousness that was churning in his stomach. It really wasn’t helping, so he tried to distract himself by picking up his phone to look at it for a few minutes, but then he didn’t want to miss you coming in, so he put it down, and turned his head towards the entrance of the hallway he knew you were going to be coming through. But then as he over thought that, he realized it might be weird to just stare until you came, so he went back to staring through the window. Except that didn’t distract him enough from his nerves, so he went back to trying the phone again. 

It became a cycle, and by the fourth round of Peter doing this, and the added leg bounce shaking the couch, Nat finally shut her book with a loud thud and stared at the nervous guy on the other side of the couch. “Peter.” She said in a flat voice.

He was scrolling on his phone again, and didn’t notice her call him.

“Peter.” She tried again. 

Nothing.

Rolling her eyes, she picked up the pillow next to her and chucked it at him. It hit him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for?” He questioned a little annoyed as his hand went up to his hair to make sure it didn’t get messed up. 

“You’re shaking the couch, and I can tell you’re nervous. What’s going on?” She asked evenly.

Peter’s cheeks and tips of his ears flushed a light shade of pink, at her observation. “Oh sorry,” He mumbled, his legs stopping for the moment. “It’s nothing. Just waiting for Y/N to go get ice cream.”

Nat just stared at him for a moment, her eyes doing their usual cool assessment, until the corner of her lips quirked up in a small knowing smile. “You hang out all the time? What’s different about today?” She asked.

His nerves turned into insecurity quickly as he looked at her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t trust Natasha, she’d been his confidant before. He might even say their relationship had grown into some kind of friendship with the long hours of training and missions they had done together, but this was different. He had barely admitted to himself the thing that was making his heart pound and his palms sweat, let alone anyone else.

See, it had been 8 weeks since your near fatal accident. The one where Peter hadn’t known if you would make it for a better part of 7 hours. It had been some of the worst hours of his life, and he’d had plenty of terrible hours. He still wanted to cry every time he pictured your body lying limply in his arms barely breathing. He had been so scared to lose you. 

Between that night and now, Peter had thought a lot about why he’d been so scared. Sure, you were one of his best friends, and yes to lose any of his teammates would be devastating, and ok the situation is traumatic and heartbreaking even if you had been a stranger, but he’d felt a very specific fear that day. It reminded him of the fear he had felt the day his uncle died, and the day he saw Tony burnt and broken after the snap. In fact, he realized in all three situations, it had been the same exact fear. It was the kind of fear that didn’t just plant itself in the chest and make it hard to breath. It was the kind that rooted itself in the soul, making one’s whole being want to scream. It was the kind that anticipated pain, but not of a broken heart. No, this fear knew that if the worst happened the heart would be shattered and never whole again. That was the fear that had raced through Peter’s veins the night you’d gotten hurt.

But in usual Peter fashion, he hadn’t understood why the same fear connected you to these other events in his life until about a week ago. That was when Peter had, what he says, a ridiculously cheesy lightbulb moment. It was during a game night with the rest of the team. 

For some reason, the team had landed on Dance Dance Revolution for the night’s entertainment—much to your chagrin. You were being a good sport about it, until the betting part of the night began. Then your competitive side had no choice but to come out. Bets for using someone’s cool new fighting toy, doing someone’s laundry or their paperwork for a given amount of time, sacrificing a favorite food for another person, or simply just lots of cash began circling between the team. 

You’d won and lost a couple rounds with Wanda and Sam, and were currently rolling your eyes at Sam who was circling you in a victory dance. You turned to Peter, and just by the look in your eyes, he knew he was your next challenge. You jutted your chin at him like the “cool kid” you were, making him laugh, and said you could do better than he could. 

“What do you think, Spidey?”

“What do I think? I think I can win this,” He said a bit cockily, teasing you with his confidence. “But what do I get when I win, Sparks?” He asked using the nickname he’d given you. 

“Oh please, this is clearly going to end with me winning.” You shot back before pausing to look at him thoughtfully, “What’s it worth to you?”

Peter smiled a little darkly before humming in thought, “How about, if I win, you have to clean up my web fluid station for a week?”

You grimaced, “Ugh, you always leave the worst mess when you’re experimenting.”

“Yup,” He said, not losing the teasing smile. “And I’ve been thinking of some ways of tweaking it lately. So, I’m sure there will be—” 

“Ok! Ok! Deal, I’ll clean up your mess if you win,” you huffed cutting him off, “But if I win,” You pointing your finger at him with your eyes shining, “you finally have to watch the Pride and Prejudice mini series with me!” You exclaimed a big smile coming over your face.

“What? No! I can’t listen to old fashioned talking for that long!” He cried.

“Oh don’t be such a baby, it’s so worth it! Come on, Pete. Do we have a deal?” You asked.

“More than 6 hours of old fashioned drama for a single DDR dance?” Peter sighed dramatically, “Fine.” He held out his hand as he added, “Hope you're ready to deal with a web-filled disaster for a week.” 

“Please,” you scoffed while taking his hand, “Popcorn and hours of Colin Firth is where this is headed,” and just to mess with him you let some of your power flow through your hand, shocking him.

“Ow! Hey, no powers!” He whined as he rubbed his hand. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Spidey. You ready to get creamed on the dance floor?” You said, a competitive smile spread over your face as you stepped up to the dance space.

Soon enough the two of you were dancing, laughing and throwing some truly childish shade at each other. At one point, Peter had looked over at you and felt something starting to bloom in his chest. It filled him with a warmth that didn’t have anything to do with the physical exertion of dancing. You were laughing and your eyes were bright, and he just felt overwhelmed by the thought of you being alive next to him. He had had so many of these moments over the last two months that just reminded him of how much you meant to him. How thankful he was you were alive, and it wasn’t helping that each time he looked over, the feeling in his chest got stronger. It was all he could do to not tackle you in a hug. 

Once it was over and he had won—fair and square he might add—you had decided to pout over losing to him, and made your way over to sit by Nat and Wanda. You looked back at him and stuck your tongue out, making him laugh. You really were one of his favorite people...then, for some reason, that’s when the feeling in his chest seemed to explode, and it all made sense. 

He loved you. 

He loved you so much, he stopped breathing for a second.

All the pieces started to fall into place. His fear that horrible night, holding you in his arms and hearing your heartbeat weaken slowly, had been like the day his uncle died or with Tony, because he loved you. He had been petrified, knowing to his very core he’d never be quite whole again if he lost you.

He also knew he needed to tell you. If that night had taught him anything, it was that he was not going to waste a second of time with you. 

Which is why Peter was now sitting in the living room, acting like a nervous wreck, and hoping that he doesn’t actually puke due to nerves. 

He had decided when the two of you made plans to get ice cream together, he would tell you then. Except, he didn’t actually know how you felt about him. He knew you liked him, but could it ever be as more than a friend? It wasn’t something he had ever thought of. It certainly wasn’t something the two of you had ever talked about. So, he was freaking out that he was about to tell you something that would alter your whole relationship for better or for worse.

Nat was still sitting patiently waiting for Peter to speak. He had turned his head away and had seemed to have gotten lost in thought. His leg had started jiggling up and down again, so she reached over and put a hand on his knee. It stilled and he looked at her. This time, her eyes held more softness as she asked again, “Peter, what’s wrong?”

His worried eyes looked back at her. “I’m gonna tell Y/N, I love her…” He whispered cheeks going pinker than before.

Nat’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “I didn’t know you two had made it official.”

The statement caught Peter off guard. “What do you mean?”

Nat looked at him for a second, “Are you two not dating?”

“Oh, uh no. No, we’re not.” He mumbled looking down at the ground.

“But you still want to tell her you love her?” 

Peter took a big steadying breath, “She almost died that night,” He started quietly, “I still can’t get the thought of losing her out of my head. I was so scared that night, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been more relieved than when I found out she was going to be ok.

“Now, everytime I see her, I just want to be around her all the time. I don’t want to miss a moment of life with her, you know? And at first I thought that was normal after something like that night happened, but I don’t think it is. That’s when I realized it’s because I love her, and I feel like I need to tell her...I just don’t know what to expect when I do.” He finished and looked up at Nat, his tone just as quiet as it had been when he started. 

She stared back at him with a small smile that told Peter she knew something he didn’t, “Tell her what you just told me, and you don’t have to worry about it going badly.”

“How do you—” He was cut off when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Peter jumped up from the couch, butterflies raging in his stomach again as he looked towards the hallway’s entrance. Nat smirked and got up from the couch, leaving the room to give Peter and you privacy. 

When you rounded the corner, your eyes met his and a large smile spread across your face. Just looking at the way your eyes lit up made the butterflies in Peter’s stomach burst into flames as a new heat radiated through him. How could you be so beautiful?

“Hey, Pete! You ready for the world’s biggest brownie sundae?” You asked brightly as you made your way over to him.

“Uh, yea-yeah, I’m so ready. Couldn’t be more ready.” Peter stuttered out.

Your smile faltered slightly as you looked at him. “You, ok?” You asked lightly.

“Yeah, totally!” He said, mentally cursing how his voice came out higher than normal. He was hoping you wouldn’t notice, but of course, you did.

“Are you sure? Cuz we can get ice cream a different day.” You offered, this time placing your hand on his arm to reassure him it was ok to cancel.

The heat in his cheeks grew even more, and Peter hoped he didn’t look like a tomato. He really needed to calm down.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “No, really, I’m ok. I still want to get ice cream.” 

You didn’t push him, just gave him one more searching look that Peter hoped wouldn’t see too much. He knew how well you could read him. 

You must have decided he would talk to you when he was ready because you nodded and looped your arm through his, and started to head for the door. “Ok, then let's go! I cannot wait to see how massive the brownie sundae actually is. MJ told me they give you an entire can of whipped cream, which sounds like heaven.” You rambled as the two of you made your way out.

On the way there, Peter was quiet for most of the ride into the City leaving you to do most of the talking while he listened. When you did let silence fall, it was filled with a kind of awkwardness and strain that was foreign in your relationship. He felt you throwing him glances from time to time, concern clearly present whenever you did. 

It wasn’t until you were just walking up to the ice cream parlor that you finally tugged on his arm to stop him.

“Pete?” You called softly.

He turned to look at you while casually saying, “What’s up?” He was trying to play it cool, even though he knew full well what you were about to ask.

“I know there’s something bothering you. What’s going on?”

Peter’s heart rate picked up slightly. He couldn’t tell you here, not randomly on the sidewalk, shouldn’t it have some romantic build up? He tried again to brush it off, “Nothing, come on. We need to get those sundaes!” He said, a little too energetic while turning to head to the door. He felt your hand slip off his arm. 

Once he got to the entrance of the ice cream shop, he looked back and saw you hadn’t moved. The look of genuine concern on your face told him you weren’t buying his act. 

He knew you weren’t going to push him to say anything. If he really wanted to he could ask you to drop it and you would, but something about doing that sat wrong with him.

The butterflies came back in full force as he realized this was the moment. He took a breath to steady himself, and shakily made his way over to you. His body buzzed with nerves. 

Looking at him as he made his way back in front of you, you seemed to notice the tells of his newly amped nerves which only increased the worry in your eyes. “Peter—” You started to say while raising your hands towards him, but Peter cut you off while grabbing your hands in his.

“I’m ok. I promise. I—I’m just nervous,” He gave you a very small smile. 

Confusion added itself to your concerned features as you asked, “Why?”

Peter looked down at your joined hands, “Because...Because I need to tell you something, but I’m really scared to do it.” He looked back up at you and his heart tugged in his chest as he met your y/e/c eyes. They had softened and held a warmth that he felt spreading through him, soothing his nerves just enough to breath.

“You can tell me anything, Pete. Nothing's going to scare me away. Not from you,” You spoke softly, squeezing his hands in encouragement.

A sweet smile started to make its way across his face as he stared at you, and soon he was lost in your eyes, in the sound of your heartbeat, and that familiar overwhelming sense of love for you flooded through him. Without thinking he breathed out, “I love you.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your eyes widened, and your smile dropped into a look of shock. If it hadn’t made his heart sink to his stomach Peter might have thought your face was comical. Instead, he started to panic as he watched your whole body freeze.

“Bu-but i-it’s ok if you don’t love me back!” He blurted out, which snapped you out of your shock enough to cut in before he continued talking.

“What? No, I—why wouldn’t I love you back?” You stuttered out.

It was Peter’s turn to freeze. Was there actually a chance you loved him back? His heart skipped a beat at the idea. He swallowed as he whispered, “Do you?”

You brought his hands up in yours and hugged them to your chest forcing him to come closer to you. Just inches apart, a soft sweet smile slowly spread across your face as you said, “Of course I do.”

Peter might have said the sun had exploded in his chest with how strongly the happiness spread through his body. The smile that made its way onto his face almost hurt it was so big. “Really? Y-You love me?” 

“I really really do, Peter.” You said smiling just as big as him now.

He let go of your hands and picked you up to spin you around. You squealed at the suddenness, and the two of you giggled when he set you back down. 

Your arms were around his neck now, hands playing with curls on the back of his head. You both stared at each other for a while, basking in this new euphoric feeling, until he noticed your stare flitting to his lips. Ever so subtly your head moved towards him and your lips brushed his in a tentative kiss before pulling back to make sure it was ok. Peter answered by crashing his lips into yours. 

You were new to each other so the kiss was slow and patient, and filled with what felt like a lifetime of emotions. He couldn’t believe how right this felt as he held you close. You tasted like peppermint, and your lips were soft against his. He really didn’t want the kiss to end, but eventually you broke away. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. 

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” You answered, brushing his nose with yours.

Suddenly, the ice cream parlor’s door swung open aggressively, causing the store’s bell to ring loudly. The two of you jumped apart at the sudden noise, and turned to see two kids running out of the building, giggling loudly with chocolate ice cream smeared over their faces. You smiled at them, and turned back to Peter.

“I think you still owe me a brownie sundae,” You said coyly. 

Peter chuckled and held out his hand for you to take, “One giant brownie sundae coming up.”

[clonecest-bin-account]

Hurt/Comfort: Wolffe/Cody (Maybe during Rebels???) Wolffe and Gregor decided to help Rex and the Ghost crew with a little mission given to them by the Rebels, what they didn't know was that the Empire sent a purge trooper after them. The the three instantly recognize the actions of the vid but there was something familiar to all of them that they couldn't quite tell. So, they decided to help him get free from the chip but when the helmet finally came off they froze to see Cody, they instantly became even more determined and tried their hardest to make Cody remember them and fight the chip.

Then Wolffe became all fluffy and acted like how he was before the war 🤗

(Boy I don’t know what to say. This is the longest prompt I’ve ever written. It kinda too a life on its own lmao. Hope you like it!)

Another day, another war to fight. Wolffe should be used to it, but to be honest every day feels harder that the previous one, even though now he has weekly appointments with a mind healer; he’s been told that it’s normal, that progress isn’t always about going up, but he’s tired of this nonetheless.

It’s during these moments of particular weakness that he allows himself to imagine Cody sitting beside him, calling him a di’kut and a chakaar; he has to bite his tongue not to reply to him, knowing that if someone saw him talking to nothing it wouldn’t be pretty.

It hurts, hurts like nothing else, but it also brings him a strange sense of comfort to imagine his lost love. In Wolffe’s mind, he hasn’t aged a day since the last time they saw each other: his hair isn’t white, no wrinkles adorn his face, his gaze is still fiery and determined, body toned and ready to jump to action if the situation requires it.

 In moments of even greater weakness, Wolffe wishes he were there with him.

He’s failed him, he’s failed him so bad: instead of trying to rescue him, he’s decided to hide, broken and afraid. Now he doesn’t even know if he’s alive or not; deep down inside, he hopes he’s dead, knowing that Cody would hate what the Empire has done to him and the rest of the vode.

 Even deeper down he really must want him to be alive, because as soon as the news of the Empire having sent a squad of purge troopers after them, he immediately begins to hope that he’d find a familiar face behind one of the buckets.

By the footage they’ve gathered of this squad, one of them does appear to move like one of them; it’s not a feeling that can be described, a sort of sixth sense that makes him, Rex and Gregor understand immediately that it’s a brother.

Now comes the hard question: what should they do about the mysterious vod? Trying to free him would be a tedious task, but if Wolffe has learned something about the Ghost company - he can’t speak for all the Rebel Alliance cause he still doesn’t trust the organization as a whole - is that if there’s a chance that they might get to save even just one life, they’ll take it with no hesitation.

So they ask, almost beg even - if only their pride didn’t stop them before they could - to help, and are all relieved when they agree to help them free their vod.

 “Wolffe, do you think…”

“I don’t know.”

He was about to chew Rex out for having had enough courage to say what Wolffe himself has been thinking for a while, but he supposes he should at least be grateful of the fact that he’s been sensible enough to wait until he and Wolffe were alone to talk about it.

Rex sighs, sitting beside him. They weren’t built to sustain being alone for too long, meaning that the closeness is now much appreciated.

“I don’t want to believe it,” Wolffe admits in the end. “Because if it’s not him, then…”

“I know,” Rex nods, understandingly. “I know…”

They remain silent, knowing that it’s best to close this discussion before they can begin making theories that would only result into them getting hurt once they find out the truth.

It must seem pretty gloomy from an outside perspective, because when Gregor finally gets to join them, he too doesn’t say anything; he just walks up to them, settling on the other side of Wolffe and immediately closing his arms around his brothers.

Even as old men, they’d never say no to a good ol’ cuddle pile.

 The plan is simple: they need to isolate the clone from his companions, so that they can drag him away and have his chip removed. Ghost company will take care of the other troopers, while Wolffe, Rex and Gregor will take care of the clone.

All three of them have been granted a tranquilizer syringe that they will use to get the vod to sleep; it doesn’t feel good having to do something like this, but it’s necessary.

Wolffe’s so nervous…

 This feeling of uneasiness accompanies him throughout the entire mission. He and his brothers are supposed to pretend that they’re on a recon mission, and that they haven’t noticed they’ve been followed, thus convincing the purge team to strike and ambush them, only to be then ambushed by the rest of the Ghost team.

Well, it doesn’t sound like a professional tactic at all, but it’s not like Wolffe isn’t familiar with unconventional tactics at all; his Jedi - traitor, no, Jedi… no! - might’ve been more reasonable than Skywalker, but he’s winged it many times as well, with Wolffe that had to chase after him to keep him alive.

Honestly, as long as it works…

 Somehow, it does work.

Wolffe will have to thank whatever cosmic entity governs the universe that it did, but not now. Now he needs to focus on the task at hand.

They have surrounded the vod, though he doesn’t seem intimidated by the situation. Wolffe wonders if he’s capable of feeling anything at all.

Just hang on, brother. You’ll be free soon.

 Despite being flanked, the trooper’s holding his own: he’s knocked the blaster right out Wolffe’s hands, and the two of them are stuck into a hand-to-hand combat. Wolffe isn’t as young as he used to be, and it’s hard for him to keep up; just what the hell have they given to this trooper? He should be as old as Wolffe and yet he moves faster and hits harder than he should be able to do.

The worst thing is how familiar this all feels to Wolffe: he’s spent so many sparring sessions dancing around like this with…

He gets kicked to the face by a powerful roundhouse kick, which makes him stumble, but after shaking his head slightly, Wolffe recovers immediately, knowing that even a moment of distraction could be fatal in situations like this one.

There’s no time for hesitation, and after yelling his heart out he rushes at him, tackling him to the ground in one go. The trooper immediately tries to free himself, kicking and screaming, but no matter how much he’s hurting him, Wolffe doesn’t let him go. He’ll be damned before he does that.

 Immediately Rex and Gregor rush to him, Gregor going to remove the bucket while Rex prepares the tranquillizer.

As soon as the helmet’s removed, Wolffe feels the bile rising in his stomach - he’s so close to vomiting. There’s no mistaking that brow scar: indeed the trooper that has been sent after them is Cody.

“Cody…” Wolffe can’t help but to mutter.

Cody doesn’t stop struggling; it’s like he doesn’t even recognize his name. It hurts watching him like this, it hurts so much, but soon he’ll be free.

Even with him pinned it’s hard for Rex to get him tranquillized: not seeing any alternative, Cody has begun biting. Wolffe’s gotta give it to him, he still has his combative spirit.

 Once Cody goes limp, eyes closing as unconsciousness takes over, Wolffe can finally relax.

He should pull away, get up and take Cody to the ship, but he still doesn’t move, curled protectively around Cody, his Cody, who is back to him, or well, he will be hopefully.

“Wolffe, we need to go!” It’s Rex the one who brings him back to reality. Right, Gregor’s cover fire can protect them only for so long.

“Right…” he mutters, only now getting up. He’s still the first one who reaches for Cody, resting his body on his shoulder as they begin to make their retreat, leaving the Ghost crew to deal with the rest of Cody’s squadmates.

Wolffe would feel bad about leaving them on their own, if not for the fact that they need to bring Cody to safety. This is his priority, now.

 “It’s going to be alright.”

Wolffe knows Rex is saying it more to reassure himself than to reassure him, so he stays silent. On the other side of the wall, Cody is undergoing to chip removal surgery.

He has no idea about what he’ll find after it’s over: first of all there’s not even the certainty that it’ll work, secondly, if it does, will Cody be the same Cody Wolffe knew and loved, or will he be different? Just how much of his old self will be in there? Wolffe’s afraid to find out.

In an attempt to distract himself from those thoughts, he focuses on how Cody looked when they’ve found him; his hair has gotten completely white as well, and it’s shorter than his usual cut. What caught his attention however isn’t that, nor the wrinkles or anything else that he already sees on his own old face, but the new scars he had at the corner of his mouth and on his right eyebrow, which makes him wonder how he got those; if he finds the cause of them, he swears to the Force itself…

 He gets pulled away from those thoughts when the medic comes out of the room.

“How did it go?” Wolffe immediately asks, worried. Please let him be fine please let him be fine please let him be fine--

“The chip has been removed successfully, but… He doesn’t remember anything.”

Wolffe freezes in his place, what does he…

“It’s still too early to discern if it’s just a momentary condition or not. For now let him rest and recuperate from the surgery, then I’ll see that you can visit him.”

Wolffe almost drops to his knees as the news comes crashing down upon him.

Have they really lost Cody then? Just right when they thought they had gotten him back?

Why? Why did this have to happen to him?

 “Wolffe? Wolffe!”

Rex shakes his vod, who only then comes back to his sense.

“Y-Yeah? What is it?”

“You need to calm down, vod. Get some rest.”

“I can’t, Cody… He’s in there,” Wolffe replies. He must be so pathetic, but he doesn’t have the energy to put himself together at the moment. This is all so confusing and painful it makes him want to scream.

“And he’d want you to get some rest,” Rex retorts, gently - but firmly - grabbing Wolffe by the shoulders. “I want to stay too, but I know Cody wouldn’t want us to neglect our health for him.”

He’s right, damn it, he’s right, Wolffe knows it, but… He sighs. Fine.

“Alright, let’s go…”

 There have been only a couple of times in which Wolffe has felt this defeated, and yet, in the bleakness of it all, there’s still a ray of hope: Cody’s condition might not be permanent, and even if it were, Wolffe swears he’ll still stay by his side.

It’s the least he can do, as a penance for not being able to save him sooner.

 “Did it really happen?”

“Of course it did! Would I lie to you about it?”

“Well…”

Wolffe should be mad, but there’s a smile on Cody’s face as he speaks, so he can’t really bring himself to do it, even at the cost of his own dignity.

 He’s gotten used, by now, to Cody not remembering. It was painful during their first visits - he couldn’t even stay in his presence for too long or else it would’ve become too much - but they’ve made progress.

Cody’s still in forced rest, and Wolffe does whatever he can to remain by his side. He might’ve reverted to some old habits he had before everything went to shit, but he still tries to keep his distance, since he can’t be certain that Cody would want him to act like he used to, not while he doesn’t remember him.

One thing that surprised him the most is that Cody asked him - and not just him, but Rex too since they were close as well - to tell him stories of their past. Wolffe has no idea if it’s just so that he can distract himself from everything else that is going on around them, or if he genuinely wants to remember. Nonetheless, he’s more than happy do to it, which brings us to the present.

 “You’re telling me that you pushed me forward when Alpha asked for a volunteer to show off a grappling move, that I got my ass kicked, but then I used the same move on you on our next sparring match?”

It pains Wolffe that he sounds so doubtful of his skills, or of anything else about him. He’s familiar with how it feels like not knowing who you are anymore - he’s gone through the same things, and he’s not even sure he’s over it now. This Cody has no idea about how great of a person he used to be, which makes it Wolffe’s job to remind him.

“Yeah, you whooped my shebs,” he replies. “Somehow you’ve managed to pull that move off after being subjected to it only once. It was infuriatingly impressive.”

A light smirk appears on Cody’s face.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

Despite everything, Cody still teases him like he used to do when he was himself. Maybe this isn’t such a lost battle after all.

 Days pass, then weeks. Wolffe still doesn’t stop visiting Cody and staying by his side, alternating with Rex since Cody himself seemed quite unhappy about the fact that he was neglecting his health for him - Rex was right about that.

His memory still hasn’t come back completely, but he’s beginning to remember some small things, especially names, which might’ve not been that great, since now he must also carry the weight of the knowledge that, of all his old friends and acquaintances, very few remain.

Even though sometimes Wolffe can’t help but to feel hopeless about this whole deal - what if Cody never comes back? What if he doesn’t want him anymore? - he still keeps going, pushing himself for him.

Until…

 “Oh, Wolffe…”

“What is it, Cody?”

Cody stretches a trembling hand towards him; he’s shaking.

“Wolffe, I remember…”

A chocked sob escapes his lips, and Wolffe’s immediately beside him, keeping him tight in his arms, whispering that everything’s fine, that he’s safe.

“I-- We… We kissed, I remember,” Cody continues. “It was right before Utapau. You told me that I’d better come back alive or that you would’ve killed me again.”

At those words, even Wolffe can’t hold back some tears. What Cody just said really happened: it was the last time they saw each other before the Republic fell. The fact that Cody remembers it now is… great.

“Yes, we did,” he says then, knowing that Cody needs a confirmation that yes, it’s all real.

 Silence falls between the two, before Cody reaches a realization.

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes wide and a horrified expression on his face. “Wolffe, I’m so sorry--”

“Nothing about this is your fault,” Wolffe interrupts him before he can say some really di’kutla shit. “You didn’t ask for this, and don’t you think that I blame you for this, because I don’t.”

Cody nods, not saying anything about it. Nobody mentions the fact that they’re both crying.

 They must be such a pathetic view, two old fucks crying their eyes out like a bunch of shinies, but that’s not what matters.

“Do you want me to stay here?” Wolffe asks, afraid that, now that he’s beginning remembering things, his presence might be too much for Cody. He doesn’t want to leave him, but if he needs a moment - or more of them - alone, he’d be willing to grant him that.

At those words, however, Cody grabs his arm, keeping it tight in his own.

“Please,” he says, sounding so vulnerable that he breaks Wolffe’s heart.

 They make some space on the cot to accommodate both of them. It’s a tight fit but it works just fine.

Things are still pretty bleak but there’s still hope.

Who knows, maybe it’s really beginning to get better.

[clareguilty]

Yeehawgust Prompt 3

Jesse McCree/Female!Reader Rating: Explicit | No Warnings but lots of tropes Word Count: ~1200

“Jesse…” your teeth chattered, “I’m going to freeze to death if we don’t get to this safe house soon.”

He reached across the console and squeezed your arm. “Almost there. I promise.” His hand felt scalding even through your jacket.

He tapped the one comm left between you. The speaker crackled just a bit. “Hey, Boss, did you turn the heat on?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“I couldn’t get the remote access to work.” Gabe sounded tired. More tired than usual. “But there will be supplies and charge there for you. Get dry and get warm.”

You shuddered but did your best to sound alert as you picked up the comm to speak into the receiver. “Thanks, Gabe. We’ll contact you for pickup in a few hours.” You powered off the comm to save what little battery life was left and raised your hands up to the car’s vents to try and warm your nearly numb fingers. The heat was cranked up to max, but it didn’t feel like it was making much of a difference. Jesse’s foot hit the floor and the car sped up as it raced down the back roads.

“Are you feeling tired?” he asked. He didn’t have a cigar. Instead he was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah, but it might just be from the mission.” You hoped it was just a normal fatigue and not hypothermia. You were sure Jesse was thinking the same thing.

He was a good driver -- you had seen him take a bike through a crowded city at top speed -- but you were still amazed at how he navigated the dark, icy highlands. Jesse had grown up running guns in the desert, but he was just as adept in colder climates.

You weren’t too bad in the ice either. On days when you hadn’t been thrown into an freezing river, you were pretty hardy and had no problem running missions in the cold.

The car skidded to a stop just outside the safe house, pitch dark and buried under the snow. Jesse threw open the door on your side of the car before you’d even realized that he cut the engine. He scooped you into his arms, trudging through the snow and tearing off his glove with his teeth to punch in the access code for the door.

The safe house was much colder than the car, and you really wished that Gabe had been able to access the heat remotely. Athena was going to get an earful from you for sure. Jesse was quick, setting you down and running to the panel in the wall to get everything powered on and cranked up. He ripped open a can of soup and threw it in the microwave before running back to your side.

“We gotta get you out of these clothes.” He was already tearing off your gear. You were too shivery and clumsy to even help, nearly toppling over as he pulled your shirt over your head.

There was a loud beeping somewhere behind Jesse, but you were struggling to stay focused. Shit. Maybe it was hypothermia.

“Soup’s done,” he threw something warm around your shoulders and went to retrieve your food.

You pulled the fabric around you, breathing in the smell of tobacco and gunsmoke. Jesse’s serape. He had wrapped you in his serape to keep you warm.

You watched him move around the dark safe house, plugging the comms in to charge, setting out weapons and ammunition, filling up canteens. You could have helped with that. But you were currently struggling to stay upright. Fuck that asshole that had thrown you off the bridge.

Jesse sat next to you on the bed, pushing the bowl of cooled down soup into your hands. It was still steaming, and you let it warm your face before taking a sip. “Drink as much of that as you can,” he said. You leaned into his side and worked your way through half the bowl.

“That’s good,” he set the bowl aside and adjusted his serape to keep you covered. “Let’s get some rest, okay?”

The bed was small, one single bunk barely even long enough for all six feet of Jesse. He had pulled down a thick woolen blanket to pull over you. You curled up on your side, trying to keep as warm as possible.

Jesse kicked off his boots and gear and climbed in beside you.

“What?” you slurred.

“I’m gonna keep you warm,” he grinned at you. The wink was only half-hearted, though, and you realized he was more worried than he wanted to let on.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You couldn’t even stay awake long enough to thank him for caring for you. You didn’t even register the way his lips brushed against your forehead.

-

When you woke up, you were laying on top of Jesse, sprawled over his chest in nothing but your underclothes. He was still asleep, mouth half open and hair mussed up. Fuck. He was cute. You tried to push up to cimb off of him, but he wrapped an arm around you and rolled over, pinning you beneath him.

“Wha-?” he mumbled groggily, blinking awake and squinting down at you.

You were flushed, pinned beneath Jesse on the bed. It was different than a sparring match back at base.

“Mornin’” he grinned. “You warmed up pretty quick after you fell asleep. Pulse never even dropped too low.”

“Good to know,” you nodded. “Are you going to let me up?”

“Maybe,” he winked, and this time it looked like the Jesse you knew.

“You ass,” you shoved at his chest. “We need to call the boss to come pick us up.”

Jesse didn’t let you move. “Jefe can wait. You still need to warm up a little bit.”

You were going to tell him that you were feeling just fine, but the words died on your tongue as Jesse leaned in to kiss the column of your throat. One hand slid over your chest, fingers teasing at the band of your bra. He made the smallest sound against your skin, lips trailing down your neck and across your shoulder.

“I had hoped we would be able to do this last night, but someone had to go and get thrown in a frozen river.” He grinned up at you.

You shoved him, shaking your head and trying to hide your smile. “A romantic evening in an Overwatch safe house? Five star meal of rations and electrolyte water? I sure missed out.”

He poked your side and began pulling your underwear down over your thighs. “It’s not a good date unless someone almost dies of hypothermia.” Tossing the underwear aside, he began kissing from your knee up your inner thigh. You let him settle between your legs, tongue moving in just the way you liked. 

“Jesse…” you moaned. The sound only spurred him, on and he held you still by your hips and made you come with just his mouth.

“That’s better,” he wiped his chin on the back of his hand. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” he moved to climb out of the bed.

You grabbed his wrist, yanking him back to you. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Can I help you?”

“Get back over here and fuck me, cowboy.” You were pulling your bra over your head. “I’m still a little cold.”

Ko-fi | Paypal

[chaotictommy]

Excerpt Chapter I.

Chapter I. The Drop

“You heard Sensei...” a sigh passed through the brunette’s lips “I’ll never pass the belt test if I keep doing what I’m doing, I just won’t, he’ll fail me,” James Dean Walker Jones, affectionately known as Jimmy to friends, groaned and fell into a chair, anxiously icing his jaw where an hour previously Jimmy had come in contact with the strong heel of his sparring opponent... it was swollen, already forming the shape of a depressed and chaotic almost circle of swelling, the skin mottled yellow, blue, purple, and spots of black, an impressionist like painting spreading painfully against a backdrop of light skin “You saw him, he looked livid that I didn’t finish Peterson off when I had the chance, he was laying on the mat and I could have, but I just — I just,” Dutch threw him a beer “You shoulda done it man... punched him in the face, kicked him when he was down, it woulda cost ya nothin,” the bleached blonde muttered while inspecting the label of his beer with sudden suppressed guilt, having been the one to ask his younger brunette friend to switch sparring partners with him in the first place. Johnny sat in front of Jimmy, handing him another ice pack wrapped in a work out towel “You just need more practice, that’s all, next belt test, I promise you’ll make it, you’ll have it in the bag,” Tommy punched Jimmy’s shoulder as in some type of encouragement “Yeah, man, that or they’ll be needing a body bag to scrape you off the floor, but I washed my hands of it... I’ll write something nice at your funeral, something poetic and with imagery...”

The sandy blonde scrunched up his nose in thought before grinning “here lies Jimmy, less cute now that he’s all dead and corpsified and — ouch man don’t hit me, that hurt, and I wasn’t done...” he stepped up on a chair with his beer and raised it “My fellow Cobra Kai Brothers, today we lost one of our brother Cobras, Jimmy, in a freak karate accident,” Dutch took a swig of beer and smirked “Rip... a heel to the head ain’t a good way to go...” Bobby turned from a desk and looked over “Poor, good, kind Jimmy, what’d he ever do to anyone? Why? Why god?” He dramatically shook his fists.

Johnny snickered, sitting down as he unconsciously wrapped an arm over Jimmy’s shoulder “He’ll be missed, by all, but we can only hope that if there’s a heaven...” Jimmy rolled his eyes, shooting every one of his friends with a rarely seen death glare and cutting Johnny off, moving out awkwardly from under his arm “Stop telling everyone that I’m dead...”

Tommy cupped his ear and looked around as if he was shocked and pretended to wipe tears from his eyes “Sometimes I can still hear his voice, coming to us from beyond the grave,” Dutch grinned “Spooky” Jimmy swatted his hand “Okay, cut it out you guys... my parents keep getting random weird bouquets of flowers from austere relatives that think that I passed away suddenly, thanks for starting that rumor Tommy,” Tommy grinned “Any time man,” the two best friends glared at each other, staring each other down “I hate you... I really do,” Tommy chuckled “No, that’s not true, you absolutely love me, need me, there would be only grey clouds in your sky if I wasn’t here to give you the rainbows and everything, I’m a gem,”

“You’re a darn nuisance,” Dutch grunted out with another swig of beer, finishing it and giving his friend a smirk “But you love me...” Dutch rolled his eyes playfully “We put up with you at best...” Tommy leaned into Dutch’s space, usually combative when this happened, Dutch just shrugged as Tommy leaned closer with a grin “Cause you love me? Come on — say it Dutch, ya love me, I know ya do,” Dutch shoved him gently away playfully “Yeah, I’d love you to leave me alone, ever heard of a man’s personal space, Tommy?” “What’s that? I thought rules and stuff were meant to be broken,” Bobby rolled his eyes “Don’t send me home with these two please? I’m begging you?” He joked, Tommy pulling him up by his arm.

After that, three of the five Cobras left, leaving only Johnny and a thoroughly unhappy Jimmy, alone with their beers and separate thoughts. Johnny hunched into his red cobra jacket more, the leather feeling good against his skin, he put the bottle to his lips, intending to drink, but pulled it away so suddenly, he’d thought he’d spill “Hey, I can teach you man, teach you till you gotta take the belt test, you’ll be a black belt in no time man,” he stated coolly, wondering why his heart raced when Jimmy looked up and locked surprised eyes with his... brown... he hadn’t realized Jimmy’s eyes had so much — depth, warmth, a person could get lost in those eyes (like Johnny was at that moment) and would never wish to get out, they were brown, with — Johnny studied him and tried not to show that he was studying him, which only made it the more obvious.

His eyes were — gold, Jimmy Jones had specks of gold in his eyes, in certain lights they were almost black, in others there was a tinge of grey. Johnny suddenly found himself studying other parts of his friend, such as the waves of dark lighter chocolate hair, the way it spiraled down over his head, the way a single piece of — his throat was suddenly dry and his Adam’s apple bobbed a little as he gulped and licked his lips, when had it got hot in here? Did Jimmy know how hands— “You alright Johnny?” Jimmy’s eyes focused on Johnny’s lips, taking in the rose stained color to them, the irritatingly beautiful nibble or bite at his lower lip, before his eyes widened for the briefest moment, he then tugged himself back into reality “I I’d like that, if you’re willing to? Oh, but are you sure? We’ve got the tournament soon,” Johnny downed his beer, giving what he hoped Jimmy took as a brotherly hug and nothing more “Screw the tournament man, I already got it covered, I got all the time to help you,” and so that’s how Jimmy found himself pinned to the ground with a triumphantly smirking Johnny Lawrence on top of him.

[luobingmeis]

“People are staring.” with Carey and Killian please? :3

A/N: it is past 2am....... i am dying bc of my allergies and also bc ive been sick for four days............. ive binged four episodes of eleventh hour in a row........................ my entire upper body hurts bc ive decided to take up knitting and i guess i knit too hard.................................. and im on mobile............................................ but this prompt speaks to me too much to wait to answer it

(this also takes place during the time before carey and killian were dating but i'll leave it up to you all as to whether that's pre-canon or not)

--

Carey was a good sparring partner.

Not that Killian was paying that much attention.

But Carey was cunning, quick on her feet. They had dropped their weapons in what felt like eons ago (or maybe Killian was just too focused on... the fight) and, when left to just fisticuffs, Carey ducked under Killian's blows in ways that would've been frustrating if Killian wasn't so awestruck. For once, Killian's height did little to her advantage as Carey, small and nimble, seemed to just be playing a game with her; it was as if she was just seeing how long Killian could last.

And, for once, Killian, typically so sure of herself and her presence (especially physical), felt clumsy, flustered.

Again, though, not that Killian was paying that much attention. It was just... everyone was watching. Killian didn't quite know how her sparring practice with her regulator partner had become fisticuff fighting with a crowd, but if people were watching (and she was pretty sure Avi and Boyland had started making bets), they had to put on a show, right?

And putting on a show meant analyzing Carey's every step and the way she danced her way through a fight while never dropping her shit-eating smirk.

It was almost frustrating and incredibly impressive.

Carey caught her in the ribs, not hard enough to do anything more than a bruise but, nonetheless, they had clerics on the Bureau for a reason.

"Gotta stay sharp, Killer," Carey teased with a wink before bringing her wrapped fists back to her, tucking them in close.

Killer Motherfucking Killian! Carey had shouted from the Icosagon Viewing Platform when she first saw Killian, crossbow hefted up, take out every single practice target stationed. Killian was just glad she made a good enough impression for the nickname to stick.

"You just wait, Fangbattle," Killian said, trying to keep her voice level as she deflected one of Carey's kicks.

She then dodged a punch before landing a blow to Carey's shoulder, knocking her back just a step.

"You holding back?" Carey smirked.

"You wish." Killian couldn't quite tell if that was the truth.

"Well, you know what I really wish?" Carey asked, dodging one of Killian's own kicks.

Killian furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

Carey grinned like the devil and grabbed Killian's forearm. "That Avi will share his winnings with me."

Killian couldn't track what exactly happened next, but all of a sudden her back was slamming onto the mat underneath them and Carey was straddling her, pinning her and restraining an arm over her head.

The crowd watching shouted at the claimed victory, some in appraisal of the winner while others tried to call bullshit in hopes of winning back what money they just lost.

All Killian could focus on, though, was how the hanging ceilings lights made it look like Carey, still smirking (always smirking), had a halo.

She was also suddenly very aware of her own breathing. And her own heartbeat. And Carey's hand around her wrist. And Carey's weight on her hips. And how close Carey was to her.

"People are staring," Killian whispered and made no attempt to move.

"Let them," Carey whispered back. "Besides, you're not a sight for sore eyes yourself, you know."

Before Killian could even try to process that, Carey rolled off her and stood. Killian watched as, dramatically, she bowed to the crowd before raising her hands victoriously.

She was amazing.

Killian, having that thought, sat up and didn't trust her legs to carry her without shaking.

Carey Fangbattle was really, truly, fucking amazing.

Carey threw her a smile, an actual smile. "You put up a good fight, Killian."

Killian smiled, too. "I'll get you next time."

Carey winked before turning on her heel. "I'm sure you will," she said before leaving the training dojo.

[modestlyabsurd]

Survival Pt. 3 (Loki x Reader)

So far, a few things have been discovered through your Asgardian-Jötun defense training: for one, Loki is literally a soldier. Well actually, a warrior. He's a goddamn fighting machine. For some odd reason that has never crossed your mind. With the privilege of guns and bows and knives, exactly how skilled he is in hand-to-hand combat has never really come into play.

The second thing you've learned is just how unskilled you are in hand-to-hand combat.

It's embarrassing when you think about it. Of course, thinking about it is what got you knocked down with a blade to your throat probably eight out of ten times. Oh yeah, Loki wasn't fucking around. He showed you a few things. Without any weapons, you're shit.

You shudder to think what you'd be without him. Dead? No, probably worse. In a lot of ways.

He lay, after finally giving in to slumber a few hours ago, under a pink mildewy comforter on the mattress. He'd trained you all night and well into the morning. Gone was the bright springy sun from yesterday, and in its place was a grayish blue sky covered in fish-scale clouds. That's always a sign of a cold front, but damn, how could it get any colder? Surely some sort of solar collapse would take place if it did. Regardless, that meant problems.

The physical training had not been the best thing for Loki to do. He won't admit it because he's as stubborn as a jackass. But he's hungry.

Despite feeling the effects of not sleeping much after taking the Advil, you got up at daybreak when the light came in the kitchen window and reviewed your stocks. You already know it's bad but that doesn't matter; Loki's gonna eat today even if you have to force feed him.

Not that you could possibly restrain him long enough to do so. Not that you could restrain him at all ... God, you're sore from training with a famished person. It was nice, though.

Loki had already replaced the food into your backpacks, but he left the notepad open on the counter with them. At first you struggle to read his ridiculously pretty, loopy cursive handwriting. It's prettier than your grandma's.

18.2.2020

x1 tinned pineapple

x2 tinned tuna fish (cat food)

x1 handisnacks cheese and crackers (what?)

x1 smashed cereal bar

a bit of peanut butter.

We MUST find more.

~L

"Well no shit, Sherlock," you mumble.

The logical option is obvious. You dig into your backpack and find the cans of tuna, as Loki begins to stir in his sleep. Green eyes shine from across the room and long arms emerge from the blanket like butterfly wings. You can't help but grin a little.

He groans upon seeing you. "Good morning."

"Morning. Nice hair."

"Mm, yes. The morning after look suits you nicely as well," he murmurs. Damn your burning face.

"You wish."

Loki sits upright and slowly stands up, looking around the heart of this small house. As if it didn't look bad enough, it became sparring grounds last night. Everything was fine - until he decided to reverse the roles and let you practice a bit. Scattered glass from broken artwork, a dented kitchen cabinet, and now one of the floor boards is bowing up. Loki smiles, remembering that last take-down of yours and feeling something come loose beneath him.

You'd thought you broke one of his bones, and he let you think it. His muscles cramping from laughter and nearly getting punched in the face established the end of your first training session.

The floors creak even louder now as he approaches you by the kitchen sink. He places a hand on your shoulder with pride. "You did well last night."

You scoff, "Tell that to my ass that got kicked."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," he encouraged, his voice not fully awake. "I'm no easy teacher. But you learn quickly. You just need a bit of patience, grasshopper." He booped your nose.

"Yeah, whatever," you try not to smile. "Oh, by the way, this is not cat food. It's real tuna and you're gonna eat it."

Loki visibly gets on the defense. "Are you ordering me?"

You notice the jab but remain composed. "Yeah, Mr. Prince of Asgard, I am."

"And if I refuse?"

"Don't worry, I have a plan."

He shrugs. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are! Would you stop lying?!" the slam of the can rings through the walls and makes Loki jump.

"I don't need - "

"What did we agree on?" you demand.

He purses his lips solemnly. "No lies. No lies between us."

"And you've been lying about this for a minute."

"I haven't!" he hisses. "I don't know what you're so worried about but it's senseless! I can take care of myself, my body is not the same as yours - I'm not human!" The harshness of his eyes, so literally and figuratively transparent, along with the gauntness of his cheeks unnerved a distant part of your mind.

"I think you're the one that's worried."

His slightly agape mouth sighs and his eyes blink in disbelief. The harshness melts away. He looks anywhere but in your face. You're so bloody perceptive. Normally it's quite helpful, and it's one of the things he likes about you. But not when you read him like a cheap, paperback novel.

"Loki, I don't wanna be mad. I don't want us to yell and scream at each other. Just ... be a good cat and eat the fucking tuna." You slide the can over to him, "For me."

He picks up the can with pale, deft fingers, looking it over deep in his thoughts. The only other person who knew him so well was Frigga. His hidden feelings. The right things to say. The code to crack his walls. How, especially in such a tumultuous world, does someone else know the same things? A human nonetheless. Of course, he knows if he thought about it too much he'd eventually figure out the answer.

He's not sure he wants to know the answer. At least for now. Maybe even for eternity.

Having gathered the will to look you in the eye, he notices your face painted with dirt. Your hair, growing over your eyes and nearing your shoulders. The rip at your jacket collar. The healing cut on your lip.

"It seems you possess patience already. What you lack is the ability to harness it."

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. "Was this a test?!"

"It was," Loki chirps while opening the tuna can, "and you passed with excellence."

~

More training filled the rest of the morning easily. Amidst the physicality of sparring in life-and-death scenarios, Loki assessed your mentality as well. He sharpened your strengths, which grew the fastest in your fighting, and honed in on your weaknesses. Most, if not all, stemming from your emotions.

He went so far as to create illusions to test you. Only, you didn't realize they were illusions.

Whilst showing you one of the many ways to escape someone's grip without the help of a weapon, he mounted you with his knees pinning your shoulders. Your arms useless, your neck exposed to his silver dagger. The coldness of the blade was paralyzing.

"This feeling means you're not dead and you have time to act."

"Fuck, your breath reeks."

Loki nearly loses it all. "Focus, you sausage! You have to act fast!"

You try to move what little you can when suddenly the weight holding you down is thrown to the floor. A man has Loki down and connects with a few punches before you can launch to your feet. The dagger was dropped in the struggle so you grab it and drive it through the stranger's neck, only to lose balance and nearly fall. Your hand went through air.

The man was air?!

Someone seizes your mishap from behind and wraps their arms around your throat. You distantly hear Loki scream your name before the feeling of cold, hard metal presses against your skull.

"Whatever you've got, give it!"

Once your vision focuses you see Loki, his hands above his head, begging. "Let her go. Please."

"Now!"

"We don't have anything!"

"The backpacks! Get 'em! Empty everything out!"

Loki keeps looking at you, as if he's begging you to do something. Then you remember the dagger you're clutching in your hand.

You swing toward the stranger's head. Again, your arm goes through air, but at last you're free. Frantically you look around to find where the air people are coming in. Before you pass Loki, he haults you.

"Come on! We gotta stop them - "

"Easy, darling, easy," he coos, "it's alright. There's no one here."

"But they, they are! They were here ... "

"Shhh," he grips your shoulders down to your triceps, looking deeply into your eyes. Instantly calming you down. "It's alright, darling. It was all an illusion. We're safe."

"Wh... Illusion..?" you ask breathlessly. The house is quiet. The wind howls outside. Everything begins to play out in your head again; how your hand kept going through the robbers. They weren't real. In one hand, you want to melt into Loki's embrace due to the draining withdrawal from raw fear.

But in the other hand is the dagger.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you swing wildly, not aiming at anything but definitely aiming for something. Loki disarms you before you poke an eye out.

Many, many obscenities later and you're sitting on the mattress together discussing your strengths and weaknesses while cleaning your weapons.

"Your reflexes are a bit slow, but they're improving. Just when the fear is about to consume you beyond return, you recover, and you recover well. Your strikes are deadly. But that bit of time when your emotions dare to take over ... it could be enough time for anything to happen."

"Yeah, yeah. What's my grade?" you wipe the barrel of your rifle.

Loki laughs. "You've graduated from grasshopper to novice. Well done."

You smile at him.

Then, you hear it.

Far off, but approaching.

Your eyes dart toward the sound, then drift back to Loki staring back at you.

A herd.

Loki frowns, his brows furrowing above sorrowful green eyes.

"We have to move."

~

i aint fuckin around no more y'all. this is a motherfuckin Last of Us AU

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai

[supersoldiersruined-me]

Sinful Dance

A/N: This is my very belated challenge entry for @siren-kitten-his 2k followers challenge! Congrats again love! My prompt was the Lust sin. I took a different approach to my normal writing. The whole text is the same story, but cut into the five senses. Every other part changes pov between Bucky and reader.  Warnings: Pining? Dirty talk, swearing, implied sexual situations Word count: 3.7k Additional prompt: “Your lips are getting really close to mine.” from an ask.

Main Masterlist | Challenge Entries Masterlist

- Sight -

A squeaky door slides in front of him, indicating his arrival, fifteen minutes late to the monthly meeting. He grunts as he takes his place between Steve and Nat. A grumpy Tony sits at the end of the oval table, flipping through his binder, not paying any mind to the impatient crew around him. Neither Steve’s pen tapping nor Pepper’s shoulder nudge take him out of his focus. Focus that has the cold room feeling even more tense, and the people in it even more fed up of the eventful week behind them.

It’s a shy Peter Parker who breaks the silence, “Guys, I just really want to, um…”

“Queens, don’t sweat it.” With a captainesque smile, Steve proceeds to reassure him.

“We always have your back,” adds Carol over the hologram.

After a shared laugh over the poor boy’s mishap, the meeting goes on accordingly without too many interruptions. Notes over the new weapons and tech are handed, along with old-men jokes from Nat towards Steve and Bucky’s ever-so-astonished faces. The plans and maps from their regular intel seem to satisfy everyone; Bucky is the first up, ready to leave for a much needed shower and sleep. He stops short before Pepper can even begin to introduce what has a cold shiver running up his spine.

Standing there behind the glass doors, a young woman clothed of the prettiest silk blouse, tucked in a pencil skirt waits for her cue. She walks in, keeping her eyes on the ground as she takes a deep breath. He looks at her, at the way her hair waves over her shoulders. Preppy glasses frame her face and he’s ashamed to admit he wants to paint them with arousal. Weak in the knees, he retreats to his seat, the room suddenly closing on itself, becoming warmer by the second. Her shaking hands set a pile of paperwork in front of Tony for him to sign, then she straightens herself, hopeful eyes finally daring to look around the room. His insides shake; he wishes someone would strap him to the chair because he’s not sure how long he can handle himself before he’s gotta get his mouth on her. It’s grotesque. It’s new. He has no clue what took hold of him.

“This here is Y/N Y/L/N. Thank you, miss.” Tony nods her way as he flicks his pen open, his gaze running through the contracts. “If you have any orders to make for outfits, gear, what ever really, you go through her. And no funky shenanigans, please.” She smiles shyly and scans the room, brushing her nerves aside to make a good first impression. Bucky watches her wipe the palm of her hands over the jersey material of the skirt that’s so tightly hugging her bubbly behind. He wants them on his chest, his stomach, his thighs. He wants them around his d-

“James Barnes!” Nat whisper-screams into his ear, eyes shooting arrows at him. He has the nerve to look at her in wonder. Not concerned by the nature of her accusation. A chuckle on his left, the usual that comes before a snarky remark, finally has him realising something is genuinely wrong. 

“Thought your arm was the stiffest thing you owned. But dude,” Sam jokes around, his hand on his teammate’s shoulder as he slowly exits the room, saluting the young lady with a military wave.

Her eyes meet Bucky’s then, and she lets them fall down his features, until they grow wide at the bulge in his sweats. He’s ashamed, caught red handed as he flattens himself the best he can. He wants to run. But there’s a rope tying them together he just doesn’t know how to rip; doesn’t want to anyway. So he stays there in his chair, rolling so he’s at least facing the other way, and waits for everyone to leave before he can make a move.

- Smell -

The sun is down, enabling Y/N to relax and get ready for bed. She was given her room before they had finished renovating it, so apart from her bed sitting in a corner, she has to use the common facilities for another week or two. She walks out in nothing but a thick robe - a neat embroidery of her name sits over her left breast - and heads towards the gym’s bathroom with her toiletry bag. Her sleepiness has her walking through the wrong door and into the men’s room, which she only notices once she walks by the row of urinals against the left wall. She shrugs with a soft sigh, but proceeds. It’s late and who’d be around anyway?

The stalls are made of tall, expensive ceramic walls that even the supersoldiers can’t top. They have actual doors rather than cheap curtains. The only thing joining them is the small gap on the ground where the water runs to a single drain, and another about a foot down from the ceiling to allow the steam to dissipate. 

She turns the water on from the separate cubicle before taking off the robe and stepping in, letting the warmth soothe her tense muscles; she hadn’t thought this day would be as stressful as it has. She’s halfway through rinsing her hair when the door slams shut behind hurried footsteps. Her breath hitches in her throat. She freezes. It’s quiet for a minute until the water from the neighbour stall starts running. She stays under the stream, not saying a word and hopes she doesn’t get in trouble.

“Lavender?” His voice is deep and raspy. She’s not sure she heard this one yet. “Guess you forgot your stuff and had to take the samples, huh.” He adds a chuckle to his remark. She scuffs, thinking it would give her away if she laughed with him. 

The cap of his shampoo bottle snaps, and slowly the scent rushes through the room, through her senses, to finish its journey between her legs. It’s rich and spicy. A hint of teakwood lets her know this isn’t regular drugstore shampoo. He had it made for him. To fit his needs, to smell like the woods with a faint vintage charm. Only one man in the room earlier could enjoy such details.

Bucky. The man she had read about and researched. Twisted things about him she never understood seemed to be what fed her hunger. He had a je-ne-sais-quoi that drew her in. She’d managed to put it aside; closing books and web browsers was an easy task. Unlike her current situation.

Her body trembles at the scent. Her slick fingers begin to knead into her skin with a mighty need. He’d be the death of her if she didn’t leave the room quickly, but with her head resting on the wall between them, she lets her hand succumb to the craving. She focuses on the sound of his hands rubbing over his hard body. Of the soft hum of satisfaction when he passes over a sore spot. The image of his hard cock in his sweats surfaces. She had never seen something so big, never owned a toy that looked like him in the least. He’d be a new sensation she’d have to have once in her boring life.

She has to bite her cheek to stifle the moans that threaten to give her sinful actions away. Her fingers - now clean - squeeze into her core, pumping in sync with the motions of his hand on his dick that she pictures in her mind. She’s quickly building her orgasm; the inevitable cry of betrayal turning her on even more. She holds on as he turns the water off. As he ambles out of the room and she swears he’s trailing on purpose. When her thumb flicks over her clit just right, Bucky walks out (finally) and she falls to her knees, sitting on her feet with her forearm on the cold wall - her head rests on top of it as she bites down her climax. The soap makes it hard for her weak legs to keep steady as she attempts to get back up. Her hand reaches for the robe, too out of this world to care about drying first. She brings the thick material to her face, hiding her blush from herself as if it was going to erase what had just happened. She wouldn’t handle this much longer. What ever had her feeling this way needed to stop. Or did it?

- Hearing -

His heavy body drops to his bed, making the headboard smash onto the wall. A rather thin wall he shares with Steve - the poor boy. His mind fails to recall the last time he kept his friend from sleeping. Too long, he thinks. Much too long. Y/N comes to his mind then; her soft features and the faint darkening of her eyes at the sight of his appendage. The way her hair would feel between his fingers, bunched up as he had his way with her until they matted on her face. He knows he’ll never get a second chance with her. He’d blown it. So it’s him and his imagination against the odds, but tonight exhaustion has the best of him before he can venture his hand down his pants. He’d have a hard time rushing his blood to where he needs it anyway.

He’s up in a heartbeat the next morning, refreshed and feeling dapper. He walks out of his room covered in nothing but another pair of sinful sweatpants - commando, of course - and one of his tight sparring t-shirts. The smell of fresh coffee and burnt toast welcomes him into the kitchen area, where everyone seems to have settled for brunch. As usual, he’s the last to show up, but his serving along with his double mimosa wait in front of his assigned seat. Placed on its right is another flute of liquid sunshine, a small plate with a half-eaten croissant and a notebook stretched to its limit with notes and clippings and whatnot. He steps towards the table and sits. Y/N fills the seat beside him a minute later, acting casual with a little nod hello.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky notices the oversized white t-shirt she most likely wore to bed. He’s sure she’s wearing shorts but most of them are covered by her top, leaving her smooth legs on display. He’s salivating, and it has nothing to do with the thought of ravaging the pile of bacon. He dares turn around slightly. Just enough so to see her licking the excess chocolate that’s dribbling from the croissant onto her fingers. He forces his eyes shut, his fingers soon digging holes into the fabric of the chair. Then when he thinks he’s gained control, a whisper of a moan escapes her lips when the sweetness hits her tongue, proving once more his infuriating vulnerability. He grabs his plate and he’s up in a flash before his body betrays him again, almost knocking Wanda to the ground as he shuffles around the island. With a lamentable excuse, he disappears into the hall towards the living quarters.

The smell of barbeque lingers in the air as he steps onto the rooftop a couple hours later. He sets the yoga mat down by Bruce’s experimental garden; he had grown fond of this hideout over his healing process. He’s slowly winding down, breathing in and out like Nat had taught him. With a new draft of wind comes the scent of the flower pots that bathe in the sun next to him. He remembers the sweet smell of the flowers his mom kept around the yard; magnolia, lilac, lavender… Lavender?

His eyes scan the surroundings. Lavender doesn’t grow in pots, he reminds himself. He has a look around the yard, as if he didn’t know the place like the back of his hand. Curiosity has him on his feet and roaming around to find the source. He feels a pang to his guts when his sight falls onto Y/N. She’s sitting on a lounge chair, alone. Over the back of the chair he sees one of her legs folded over the armrest, the other is bent at the knee towards her chest. The same white shirt covers her top but her hair is now loose from the messy bun she sported earlier. He watches it dance as the wind carries through. He closes his eyes and it hits him; she was the mysterious man in the shower the night before.

His mind runs wild at the thought of her naked body. At the water running over her skin, tickling her every inch. Or the fact that she must have heard him relieve himself, the squishing of his movements unusually fast for someone who’s cleaning up. 

“Fuck,” he hears her clear as day; she just moaned the word out in the open. He’d walk closer if he didn’t have enhanced hearing. There’s another soft moan following and he’s going wild.

“B-Bu,” he shivers. “James, ah, please!” He stands there unable to move as he listens to her calling out his name. Her head falls back onto the chair and her other leg spreads out, mirroring the other. He curses himself because he can hear just how wet she is. He has to bite his lip to prevent his own begs from spilling out.

“So good,” she continues. Another finger slides by the others. He could tell she’s pumping fast with his eyes closed if he wanted, but seeing her shoulder bounce seems to prove he’s not so wicked after all. There is no mirage here and he’s on the verge of snapping his restraint. His sweats allow him extra room for his arousal but there’s no hiding it. His back rests on the brick wall of the staircase now. It’s cold and he needs it. Bad.

“I’m gonna,” No. Please don’t. “I’m gonna come Bucky,” she whimpers. It would be a lie to say he didn’t want her to. He also doesn’t want this to end. Until one of them makes the jump, they’d be dancing this agonizing dance and those little moments are all he’s going to get. She’s right there though, he hears her gush. He rushes into the stairwell. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to break the perfect bubble he’s put around her. There’s one way he’d let himself hear that and it’s if he’d be the cause of it. Literally.

- Touch -

She pulls her leggings up, hips swaying with the music on her TV. It’s late and she needs the extra motivation to get her ass to the gym. So she struts down the hall, waits for the elevator and makes her way to the basement. The gym’s door is ajar when she gets there, a stripe of light colours the linoleum floor at her feet. She shrugs it off; she made it this far, might as well go through with it. 

A tall, square figure gets up from a bench on the far end of the room. Hair well sorted in a bun. White tank-top snug against his back. He turns around and their eyes meet. Her hand reaches for the handle on her way to desertion; a reflex she would have later regretted.

But, “Wait!” He calls after her. The muscles in her arm become frail making her hand fall to her side. She looks at him again, taking longer this time. Allowing herself to indulge and he’s letting her. He wants to take a step forward but she waves him off.

“Bucky, I can’t…” Her words are weak.

“It’s okay. I’m not sure I can either,” he confesses. They sigh in sync. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She watches his expression of defeat and swallows the lump in her throat. She walks over to the mirror, keeping a safe distance between them. Her eyes meet themselves as she scans her face. They close with another sigh - her forehead leans against the mirror. Fists clench.

“I don’t know either, Bucky. All I know is whatever happens next scares the shit out of me. It’s like Schrodinger’s cat. Open the box. Taste the fruit, and you’ll know. But there’s an outcome I don’t want to face...” She hears Bucky’s shuffle. He’s right by her when she opens her eyes, startling her. She looks at his reflection now. Both of them silent as they go through each other’s doubled features. A wave of spice hits her nose just as she manages to steady her breathing. She bites her lip, eyes looking at his in the mirror. Her finger lifts until it reaches the image of his bicep. She slides it down, the soft squeak of her fingertip against the hard surface makes them shiver. He mimics her action and draws along the line of her hip. He’s bending so low she can feel his breath on her shoulder.

She grants herself to turn around, tired of faking. Tired of hiding her desire and whatever comes with it. He’s right there and accessible and she’s spiraling down a panic attack until he steps up and breaks the tension. His warm hands grab onto her forearms, effortlessly pulling her close to his chest. She’s putty. She’s everything but the confident and sexy woman she wants to be right at this moment. The speed of his heartbeat under her palm lets her know he’s not at his best either. The depth of his eyes sucks her in and heat travels through her, blushing her cheeks.

“Your lips are getting really close to mine,” he says with a cocky grin. It would be impossible to slide a sheet of paper between them. 

“Bucky, please,” she whimpers albeit the uncertainty of the moment. She smiles when the weight of her words makes him shiver.

“It’ll change everything.” His hands are on her cheeks now, ready.

“I damn well hope so.”

- Taste -

“I’m sorry Mr. Barnes. Mr. Stark has asked me to inform you that public facilities of the compound are secured with cameras. High definition cameras.” The AI blurts out through the intercom, and it’s as if it, too, doesn’t want to see the following scene unfold.

“Fucking kidding me,” Bucky grunts, eyes shooting to the ceiling.

He feels her giggle onto his chest. The proximity should be firing up his arousal, but the cute gesture hits a whole other cord. Maybe this is what she meant by ‘unbearable outcome’, he thinks. He shakes the thought away, not wanting to break his one and only chance.

“You know, there is one public place that definitely isn’t monitored,” she mentions, wiggling her brows at him. His furrow for a second before he catches her intention. He picks up an elastic band from the rack in the gym before they amble down the hall and back up into the living quarters. He’s first to peek around the corner that leads towards the bathrooms, her body following with a hand on his shoulder for balance. Once the coast is clear, he finds the back of her thighs and picks her up. With a sharp kick, the door opens before them, and to their benefit, the room seems deserted. He sets her down before securing the doors with the elastic; an extra security measure that he knows isn’t the strongest, but it eases his mind nonetheless.

“Go start the showers on the left, I’ll take care of the lights,” he asks. When he turns back around, she’s standing at the other end of the room, five meters or so, but it feels like the world. He looks at her. The tight material of her leggings against her legs. How it delicately rises into her lips. The tank top she sports lets him see the bumps of her breasts perfectly. He palms himself through his sweats, bead of precum already setting a visible round spot at the tip. She’s biting her lip and he wishes he had mind reading abilities. He’d know what she wanted. How she wanted it. He damn well knows what he wants, and he feels nauseous at the idea of finally obtaining it.

“What’s with the staring,” she jokes. He grunts and she smirks.

“You’ve had control over me ever since I laid eyes on you. This has never happened. You’re so fucking hot and I don’t want to ruin this,” he admits.

“Talking will get you nowhere, Barnes.” There’s a wink, followed by her hands reaching for the hem of her tank top - it’s on the ground as fast as Bucky can blink. He takes his own top off, the movement of his muscles making her whimper and he quivers through the steam that’s slowly filling the room. She takes her bra off as he begins to walk closer, only spurring his intentions.

“Jump,” he commands when he’s within reach, grabbing her legs and pushing her against the cold wall. Her legs fit perfectly around him, her short arms hold her steady onto his neck. Her moan when their groans grind together almost has him finishing in his pants.

“God the things you do to me,” he adds between pants. His eyes roam her face and land on her parted lips. He catches her doing the same when his eyes look into hers before giving in. They crash lips in a passionate kiss, making the world stop around them. The showers become distant waterfalls and the steam is nothing but a tropical weather. It’s as if he had just bitten into the sweetest peach. Soft and subtle. Her lips dance with his and it’s the best thing he’s ever lived. They part shortly, only to allow him to take her carefully into a stall.

“Bucky, our clothes,” she whines.

“Don’t fucking care sweetheart.” His lips are back on hers and she’s safely stuck between his broad chest and another ceramic wall. The stream of water glides over his body, matting his chest hair and making his skin glimmer. His tongue travels onto her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. It’s salty from her ever lasting arousal and he hums at the contrast. 

Before she can even understand the new dynamic, he’s got his fingers on her pussy through her leggings. It clings deliciously to her body and he needs it. Needs the taste, needs the feel. He has to hear the soft cries he can pull from her.

“You’re a sin, baby. You know that?” he adds in a growl.

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 24

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Feels, growth, smut, plotting. Not necessarily in that order but at least it’s peppered with errors as work has prevented me from focusing on proofreading. A/N: The plot thickens. Lots of love for liking and reblogging!!

24 - Bait and Trap

“Keep moving,” the instruction rings out, “hands up, elbows in.”

If she could just sound tired. But Maria Hill is in excellent shape, meaning that seemingly nothing steals her breath as she circles you with the clumsy focus pads. Of course, your hits don’t make the woman stagger either, although she’s claiming you’ve improved.

It was hard at first to really want to hit hard. Maria had suggested imagining HYDRA agents in her place or maybe even Brock and it had kinda worked…until a split-second before the impact when you’d suddenly become acutely aware that it was, in fact, Maria standing there ready to take the punch. Screw the padding and your weak arms, the idea of potentially hurting someone made you hold back a bit.

Not today.

Today your fists are coming in heavily, sending little shockwaves through the rest of your body as the pad stops the forward movement. Gotta get ready. An urgency is fueling you, allowing you to take her comments and turn them into action while each breath burns in your lungs and your arms are getting tired. You know what you’re working towards. More importantly, there’s finally new clues on where Brock Fucking Rumlow is. Finally, for the first time, there’s a quiet grunt as Maria takes a tiny step backwards.

“Again.”

She doesn’t have to say it because your arm is already drawing back. We’ll find him. Fist hard (and with the thumb safely outside the other fingers’ grip). I’ll never ever be his again! The sound is both sharp from the latex cover and muted from the foam inside, creating a sharp thump or a silenced slap depending on how you look at it. Either way, it feels satisfying. I gotta get better.

 …   Romanoff   …

[Y/N] is not the one to greet them as the quinjet lands and Natasha’s surprised to feel a tiny sting of something uncomfortable in her heart at the idea that her girlfriend hasn’t made it out there despite ample warnings from Jarvis and maybe Maria Hill too. At least the latter is waiting rigidly by the doors with a frown plastered on the face.

“’Bout time you got back,” she announces with the business voice.

Stark scoffs. “Missed you too, honey.”

But the dark-haired woman ignores him, going straight to Natasha instead. “I’ve tried to get [Y/N] to take time off between training, but she won’t listen to me.”

“After the intel?”

“Of course.”

“Does she eat?” Clint gets involved with one of the major concerns he has, having spent more than enough time as a kid and adolescent stealing or scrounging for food.

“Some.”

Regardless of food-intake or training regimen, Nat would be hurrying to wherever the woman is because a few days had turned into more than a week and the distance, the absence, had been so horrible that not even Thor or her oldest friend could soothe the ache. So close now. The red-head stalks down the halls under the guidance of Jarvis. Soft lips, perfect voice, oh god the scent too! In a moment she’ll be able to drown herself in the nearness of [Y/N].

The slapping of flesh against latex can start vastly different tracks of thoughts especially when hard breathing is added. Natasha knows what to expect as she silently steps into the gym and her eyes are immediately fixating on the near perfect stance and the fists’ paths to the sandbag.

“Elbows in, babe,” she offers after a few minutes, making the woman squeal in fear and/or delight.

The ensuing pounce sends them sprawling onto the sparring mats, limbs tangling delightfully (though uncomfortably) to provide maximum proximity. It doesn’t matter that teeth clank against each other or that half the kisses don’t even land fully on the lips – it’s still the best greeting Nat could wish for.

Out of breath, [Y/N] eventually does pull away long enough. “Welcome home!”

“Imma have to leave more often just for the sake of this.” There will always be missions, but it’s still an empty threat. “C’mon, girl, training’s done for today and you need to tell me everything I’ve missed, ‘kay?”

 …   Rumlow   …

It’s a gamble, and one that Brock would normally stay the hell away from in any other situation, but allowing the right information about his plans to leak out might just do the trick and lure [Y/N] out of hiding – if for no other reason then simply to find some sort of closure as it’s naïve to assume Rogers and his pets haven’t gotten her mind all twisted and set against Brock and Hydra.

He doesn’t see the files about the new safehouse, rather the gaze has travelled through time to a rainy morning where Brock and [Y/N] had snuggled up in bed with each their steaming cup of coffee and candles lit on the dresser while they simply listened to the sound of wet Washington.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that those idyllic days are far away, that the woman he’ll bring back from the Avengers won’t readily accept the change…but there are ways to make people forget. Make them comply. Now more so as Strucker’s experiments have payed off in the shape of the twins. The little witch could be useful.

“Make sure t’ set up full security to a dummy server,” Brock orders to the lowly agent who’s been waiting for the superior to act, “and secure the rooms here and here to block ground penetrating scans…that’s where backup’ll be.”

“…yes, sir.” The hesitation is audible, making Brock raise an eyebrow in question. “It’s just erm uh…the uhm…won’t…-”

“Won’t they know it’s a trap?” he calmly finishes the question for her and allows time for an unsteady nod before nearly shouting: “Not if ya do ya goddamn job properly!”

 …   Reader   …

You’re all for preparation, avoiding stepping into a trap set up by Brock. But Hydra doesn’t know what you’ve seen, the advantage it gives you and the Avengers. There are a handful of options where your ex might be, sure, but not more than what can feasibly be kept under surveillance.

Snuggling a bit closer to Natasha’s sleeping form, it’s hard to be pessimistic. I might even see more about it all. It’s not an actual invitation for a vision…but a little bit more knowledge? Yes please. Especially to explain why on earth you’d walk up to Brock’s door on your own – Natasha had of course objected to that idea and even ventured that you shouldn’t be anywhere near the place. Ever. Is that possible? Perhaps the lovely redhead will accept you to be bait to lure Brock out. I’ll be safe with Tasha there.

Careful not to wake her, you turn in her arms only to find she’s looking at you in the dimmed light. Lips plump, eyes nearly black, and hair tousled. Gorgeous. There’s nothing more natural than kissing Nat, playing with her responsive mouth to draw out a sigh even before your bodies try to melt together. Hands wandering along the curves, hills and valleys which you know by heart but never tire of exploring.

Tonight Natasha takes charge, dancing along your neck to your nipples while she greedily massages your waist, breasts, hips until you’re free of what little clothes you were wearing, and she zones in on your clit. Never breaking eye contact. There’s no gentleness now, but heavy licked stripes each ending in a flick of the tip of the tongue.

You’re keening. Reaching for her, it’s all you can do to maneuver yourself and her on the side with heads resting on each others’ thigh.

Damn.

Nat might have favouring you, but even in the dim light it’s obvious that she’s enjoying everything and the moment your lips touch her fold, chin brushing against the red curls, her moan makes you shiver. Both of you know this will be a battle where you each bring the other to the edge. A balancing act where one’s fall will drag the other over the edge too.

[autumnalfallingleaves]

How to be a Lapis Lazuli (By Lapis Lazuli)- Jim Lazuli Lake AU

AO3

Jim whoops as the warm summer air hits his face. He’s high off the ground, watery wings carrying him aloft. On the ground, Toby laughs as Peridot berates Amethyst for something-or-other, which only serves to make the purple Gem taunt Peridot right back. Jim blushes at the sound, the other boy’s laughter making his chest- his own gem- warm. He does a backflip and hears Claire clap in response.

 

“Jim!” He looks down. Rose is gesturing for him to land. “Come have lunch, honey. You haven’t eaten since early this morning.”

 

The boy hears Toby whoop again, but this time, it’s excitement at the prospect of a meal. Jim had prepared the meal himself this morning with a little- just a little!- help from Pearl. Jim knew Toby and the other humans he knew liked when he cooked. He was good at it and everybody knew it, including Jim himself. 

 

With a flap and a little gliding, Jim touches down on the grass next to the barn, and with a little added concentration, he directs the water he was using for his wings back into the little pond Lapis and Peridot had built. He laughs as Toby and Claire- his best friends, he loves them so much- wave for him to come join them. Pumpkin yaps at him and runs around his feet as he joins his family for lunch. 

 

“What did you make today?” Claire asks, tying her long, curly hair back into a ponytail. Jim shrugs. 

 

“The usual. Sandwiches and some fruit salad.” He grabs the picnic basket and starts to pass out food. A sandwich and some salad each for Toby and Claire, three sandwiches and a full bowl of salad for Amethyst, a sandwich for Rose, a sandwich for Garnet, and a little fruit for Pearl. He looks to Lapis and Peridot; he knows what his close family and friends like, but not the two newest additions. Peridot wrinkles her nose. No food for her, then. Lapis considers, then shrugs. 

 

“I’ll try it.”

 

Jim gives her half a sandwich to start, as well as a few pieces of fruit. She’s a lapis like him, so maybe she’ll like it? Do Gems of the same type like similar things? Jim really doesn’t know much about Gems like him. He’s the only hybrid, after all, and Lapis is the only other Lapis Lazuli he knows, and she’s, like, really old. Older than everyone else other than Pearl and maybe Rose, he thinks. He doesn’t really know. 

 

(He wishes he did.)

 

Lapis, after a moment, takes a small bite of her sandwich. She chews. She looks thoughtful. She swallows. 

 

And a thumbs-up! She likes it! Jim grins and gives her the other half of the sandwich. The blue Gem takes it with a small smile. 

 

Peridot shakes her head. “I don’t know how you can stand to- ugh- eat that stuff,” the green Gem directs at the other Gems. She frowns, “Gems don’t need to eat, so why would you?”

 

Amethyst waves her sandwich around. “Because it tastes good, dude! That’s why! And also, like, Jim makes a mean sandwich.”

 

Jim blushes at her praise, but shakes his head. “If you keep eating all the stuff in the fridge, I won’t be able to make sandwiches.”

 

Amethyst shrugs. “Not my problem, bro.”

 

Jim splashes her with a bit of water from the pond in retaliation. Amethyst shrieks and goes to tackle him, but a raised brow from Garnet is all it takes to calm her down. She raspberries him instead, and Jim giggles. 

 

The conversation goes from there, Toby talking about his warhammer training with Pearl, Claire going on about her and Peridot’s efforts to get the Gem-tech staff Claire found up and working. It’s a wormhole-making staff, Peridot elaborates, made for creating quick transpiration over a planet. You could also fight with it, Claire adds. 

 

Jim would like that, if Claire learned to wield her own weapon. He’s got his sword and Toby has his warhammer, so they can defend themselves pretty well. Claire, however, is weaponless. Yes, she’s an expert at hand-to-hand combat, but that wouldn’t work well against a Gem who is ten times stronger than her, like Jasper. 

 

(Jim doesn’t like to think about Jasper, because he’ll end up thinking about the time the orange Gem almost killed Claire- no, no, Jim, stop thinking about it. Claire’s safe. She’s safe and she can learn to wield her own weapon and be safe.)

 

A gentle hand lays on his shoulder. Jim looks up into Garnet’s visor. She’s impassive as ever, but Ruby’s gem is warm against his skin. He knocks his head against her side and she pulls him into a brief hug. He gives her a whispered thanks, and she lets him go. Garnet and Rose are the two Gems who can help ease his anxiety the best, but Garnet is the best at it. You know, with the future vision and all. Rose looks over in concern, but Garnet nods at her. He’s okay, the nod says. He’s anxious, but he’s okay. Rose nods back.

 

They finish lunch, and Toby goes back to training with Pearl. Jim makes drops of water float around him, distracting him, while he and Claire laugh. They love Toby, but it’s fun to mess with him during training. Pearl gives him a Look, but she’s smiling. Her boys love each other, so the distraction is in a non-malicious spirit. That doesn’t mean, however, that Jim can continue to mess with Toby. She sets down her own warhammer and claps her hands, eliciting Jim and Toby’s attention. 

 

“Jim, why don’t you do some of your own training? You’ve been doing well with your sword, so it would be a good idea to practice your other abilities.” 

 

She means his hydrokinesis. Jim’s been getting better, but he still hasn’t figured out how to summon his wings out of basically thin air like Lapis. He nods, and Pearl looks to Lapis, who is lazily watching Claire and Peridot tinker. 

 

“Lapis.”

 

The blue Gem looks up. 

 

“Would you be able to help Jim learn about his Gem abilities?” 

 

Lapis looks startled. Her? Teach this skinny hybrid how to use his powers?

 

“Please,” Pearl finishes, and Lapis looks at Jim. He’s beaming up at her, the gap between his two front teeth making him unfairly cute. Actually, he’s giving her the same look Pumpkin gives her when she wants food or pets. And she can never resist Pumpkin. 

 

Lapis sighs and stands. “Alright. I’ll… try.” Jim cheers and hugs her. She hugs back, hesitantly. She’s not really used to the physical displays of affection Jim and the other children use daily. 

 

Okay. Where to start? Lapis looks over the hybrid appraisingly before snapping her fingers. She knows where to start.

 

A few moments later, the two are standing near the small pond. Lapis summons her wings and gestures for Jim to do the same. After a moment and some concentration, Jim pulls water from the pond and affixed it to his back in the shape of wings. Lapis shakes her head. “That’s not the best way to do it.”

 

“Do what?” Jim asks, confused. This is the way he always summons his wings.

 

Lapis gestures to the pond. “You’re not always going to have a water source to draw water from. You know how the water I use always comes out of my gem, right?” 

 

Jim nods.

 

“That’s because I store water in my gem.”

 

Jim’s eyes widen. That makes a lot of sense! “So… like how I store my sword in my gem?”

 

Lapis shrugs. “I guess. I don’t have a weapon.”

 

Jim contemplates this. That’s true… Lapis, from what he’s seen, doesn’t have a weapon in the sense that he and the other Crystal Gems do. He has his sword, Pearl has her warhammer, Rose has her own sword, Garnet has her gauntlets, and Amethyst has her whip. They all store these in their gems. Lapis… Lapis stores water in her gem and uses that to fight. Jim looks up suddenly, startling the other Gem. 

 

“But you do have a weapon!” He exclaims. Lapis looks confused, and he gestures to her wings. “You store water in your gem, and you use that to fight, so that’s your weapon!” Lapis looks skeptical, but doesn’t get a chance to talk as Jim, in all his 14-year-old excitement, barrels on. “So if you store water in your gem and water is your weapon, it should be easy for me to put water in my own gem! It’s gotta be like when I use my sword!” Jim pulls his sword- a broadsword with a notch in the blunt side- out of his gem with a flourish, then puts it back. It’s an odd sensation, to be sure, to pull a full sword out of a gem embedded in your chest. Jim has gotten used to it, though, with all the times he’s had to use it. 

 

Lapis looks contemplative now and less skeptical. “I guess I see. So try it.”

 

Jim nods and concentrates. He can feel his gem glow, and the water on his back start to shift. He can hear Toby and Pearl stop sparring, and Claire tell Peridot to watch. He’s self-conscious now. He doesn’t really like it when people stop what they’re doing to look at him. 

 

He persists, anyway, and envisions the water in his control entering his gem and staying there. There’s a splashing sound and an odd sensation in his gem, and Jim opens his eyes. There’s no more water on his back and the ground is dry. He blinks. 

 

“…I did it?”

 

“Dude! You did it!” Toby crows and slaps his back. Jim stumbles. Toby’s getting strong with all that warhammer training. Lapis, standing off to the side, looks something resembling happy or proud. Jim can’t tell.

 

He then turns his focus inwards, like Pearl had taught him, and focuses on his gem. It feels… different, but not in a bad way. It feels full. It feels good, like something that he was missing had finally been found and replaced. Is this what it feels like to be a full Lapis Lazuli? To have water in your gem and feel good because of it? Jim concentrates a bit more, and water flows out of his gem and forms into his wings. A little more visualization, and the wings form large hands and arms. He pokes Toby and Claire with them. The three children laugh, and Amethyst slings an arms around his shoulders. 

 

“Nice job!” She ruffles his hair and he ducks out from under her arm and hides behind Pearl. The soft-spoken Gem rubs his shoulder and says that she’s proud of him, that she’s happy he’s finally figuring out his powers. There’s a sort of nostalgia to the words, though, and Jim doesn’t understand why. Maybe it has to do with his mother. Pearl and Lapis- his mother, not his friend- were close. Maybe she remembers when she was using her powers.

 

He pushes it aside for now. Now, he and his family are happy and together and having fun. This is what he wants. No threats from Homeworld, no corrupted Gems attacking them, just happiness. Just peace.

 

He wants it to stay this way forever. 

[buns-with-a-book]

Hunger

First NS/FW fic and I’m diving right into Devil Trigger with these two. Hopefully I won’t get hit with the banhammer.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/OC (romantic) Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @harlot-of-oblivion @synchronmurmurs

Summary: Vergil has a need. So does Cassandra. And when two particularly aggressive personalities come to a head, it leads to heated interactions.

All was quiet in Devil May Cry. 

The rain poured outside, a gentle song played on the jukebox in the corner, and Cassandra was sitting comfy on the chair behind the desk. She was flipping through a book, refreshing her memory on curative herbs. Everyone was out on missions, with her staying behind in case there was an emergency within the city limits. It was a role she had back when Dante and Vergil were in the Underworld, cleaning up the mess that Vergil caused with the Qliphoth tree and a role that she didn’t mind as much as she used to, content in the knowledge that Dante and Vergil were walking on the mortal plane once again. 

As the weeks passed, her fondness of the icy elder brother became something...more romantic. Vergil was obviously unused to such romance, perhaps out of a lingering hesitation born from some sort of trauma of his past. It was a slow careful affair for them but they made it work.

But that did not change the fact they had their moments of aggression, as two dominant personalities were bound to clash. Most of the time, the aggression could be sparred out of them, but the moment that a mere spar would not sate them...what would happen then?  

She sensed it, demonic energy. She snapped the book shut, grabbing the picture of Eva and putting it away in a shelf to protect it from damage. Astra snapped into existence, Cassandra moving to stand in front of the desk in wait for whatever came through the door. It opened, revealing that it was only Vergil. Cassandra tilted her head, dismissing Astra. That look on his face told her that his mission was no frolic through the fields. His ice blue met hers, irritation and frustration burning in his eyes. 

“Cassandra.” 

“Who pissed in your cereal?” She growled, circling around the hunter. He did the same, eyes focused on the other like predators fighting for a mate. As she passed the door, she lifted her hand to lock the door behind her. As much as Vergil was angry, she knew that he wouldn’t do lethal damage to her, lest he wished to earn Dante and Nero’s ire. She noticed a flicker of blue fire in his eyes, a flicker that made her grin. She looked to the hallway, the briefest of flickers.

“Don’t you dare.” Vergil growled. She smirked and dove through the hallway, just barely missing a swipe from the older devil hunter. She heard a more intense growl behind her and skid into Vergil’s personal office, a far cleaner room than the main office. She barely had a moment to flip around before Vergil was atop her, pinning her against the wall. 

“Brat.”

“What’s got you so pissy?” She breathed. “Did Dante say something to rile you up or did you set yourself too high again?” He let out an irritated growl, moving to lay her on the desk. 

“Silence.” 

“Make me.” He growled at her defiance and flipped her over onto her chest. He grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back tightly. Pulling up the skirt, he yanked down her pants to expose her. He let out an audible tut.

“You enjoy this, the chase, disobeying me…” He murmured, almost in disappointment. 

“Gotta make you work to get your dick wet.” She panted. “It’s not fun to just bend over now, isn’t it?” She looked back, catching the ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

“A time and a place for everything…” He gave her exposed ass a smack, making her shiver. “But it does not change the fact that you were still a brat.” He growled. “That warrants punishment, does it not?” 

“You think I cannot handle you?” She whispered, a quiet dare to the elder son of Sparda. “I’ve been through half of your shi-” She was cut off by another smack to her ass, a yelp tumbling from her mouth. 

“You will count out how many times I spank you.” He said coldly. “The number is ten. If you can do that, maybe I will forgive your brattiness. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, Vergil.” She whispered, the argumentative personality melting into cool focus. With that, he began. She shivered at the hard hit against her skin but began to count each hit. The skin reddened, followed by a pleasant stinging from each hit. It was difficult to keep her head focused on the task at hand. She groaned, feeling his hand rub at her sore flesh. Was that five…? She shook her head, trying to keep focus. That was five so far, she knew it, he was spacing them apart to distract her. 

‘There’s better ways to distract me than th-’ Her thought was cut off by the sixth slap, her body tensing up. Damn him! 

“Six…” She growled. “Come on, make it worth my time. It barely stings.” A bit of a lie, she could feel the sting and she was certain he knew she was only doing this to get a rise out of him. His nails dug into her flesh, followed by a growl from him. 

“Insatiable…” He growled. She heard a shuffling sound behind her before his hand let go of her wrists, replaced by a thin belt. 

“Taking cues from Dante, are you?” She teased. His now-freed hand gripped her hair, giving it a harsh pull. She gasped from the pull, back arching a little. Well that was certainly a way to earn a rougher touch from Vergil. His hand slapped her ass, the long-awaited seventh. “Seven!” Another followed, quick and harsh. “Eight!” And the final two, in quick succession. “Nine! Ten!” His hand slipped out of her hair, letting her head hang forward. She took in deep breaths, feeling her ass sting and legs quiver. A silence fell in the room, broken only by her breathing.

But a quiet Vergil was a dangerous Vergil. Cassandra knew that too well. It meant he was planning something. 

“You’re quite fond of aggravating me until I bend you over and put you in your place.” His voice was suddenly in her ear, so soft it made her shiver. She smirked a little.

“Once again, it’s no fun to just bend over and give you what you want…” She breathed, pressing her hips against his. He let out a low hiss. “It’s more fun to rile you up.” 

“Temptress.” He growled, his voice warping. Cassandra shivered, not having to see to know he was Triggering. “I will take what is mine.” She felt his cock press against her cunt, still exceptionally slick from his spanking. His nails dug into the desk, resting next to Cassandra’s hands, as he slowly pushed himself into her. He let out a hiss as he sheathed himself inside her, leaning down to suckle on her neck. She shivered at the teeth pricking at her skin, certain that he would leave a sizable lovebite on the skin. She squirmed underneath him, grinding back against his hips to get some sort of pleasure. The devil groaned at the grind, beginning to suck harder on the skin. She whimpered from pleasure, hearing a strained exhale against her skin. He pulled back, tongue licking the blooming purple mark. He slowly pulled back his ridged cock, each ridge rubbing against that sweet spot as it made its way out, before he slammed back into her. She let out a groan, shivering as he began to move at a harsh pace. Vergil stood back up, his hand grabbing the belt that held her forearms together, and began to thrust. Cassandra shuddered at the pace, brutal and rough accented with the sting of her still-sore ass. Vergil growled at each thrust, his clawed hand moving to grip her hair. She let out a moan, her head falling backward as she moaned out into his office. 

“Vergil!” 

“For all of that bravado…” He growled. The sound, warped from his Devil Trigger, made her shudder. “You still become undone under me.” He thrust hard at that, hitting that sweet spot. “So easily undone…”

“I-I could say the same...fuck!” She gasped out from a particularly pleasurable thrust. “F-For you, Vergil. Railing me your Devil Trigger over your own desk…” She smirked a little. “Who’s easily undone now?” 

“Says the one who’s moaning out my name.” If he could smirk, she was certain he would be doing it. “My insatiable wild rose.” 

“You love it.” 

“As do you.” He leaned over, pressing his lips to her head. Cassandra let out a soft moan, a hand reaching up to hold one of his horns. He let out a pleased rumble. “Mine.”

“Yours.” She panted, guiding him down back to her neck. He took the hint, moving his head just a little to bite into her collarbone.  She gasped and let out a moan, the bite sending her over the edge. Vergil groaned as she clenched up around his cock, making him spill his load deep inside her. He let go of her hair, moving to her hip to keep them connected. After a minute, she let go of his horn. He pulled out of her, letting out an exhale as he watched seed drip out of her. 

“Vergil…?” Cassandra panted, looking back to him. She noticed his gaze was still focused on her entrance and smirked. “We’re not done yet, are we?” 

“No.” He growled, flipping her onto her back. Her smirk widened.

“We have all night, big guy. You better make it worth my wh- mmf!” He pulled her close for a hungry kiss, silencing her. 

This was going to be one very long and very pleasurable night.