#only if i actually looked this this :pensive: i have yet to get a hair straightener so most of the time im in r.amona flowers cosplay

[philistiniphagottini]

hi i hope you don’t mind my coming back 😅 as i mentioned before i really enjoyed how you wrote my request before! c:

i had this kinda specific idea of something along the lines of a confession that gets rushed along via the ever famous only one bed trope with cloud strife? soft cloud is rare and underrated <3

thank you if you take this on, as always no pressure! all the best!! :D

Hi, welcome back! :D Oh my god yes, we need more soft Cloud, he's such a sweet bean. Thanks for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this. And sorry, I got a little carried away and it's over 2.5k words :P I hope you like it~

cw. fluff

"Sorry, this is all they had left…"

You blinked slowly, eyes drinking in the current predicament both you and your friend, Cloud, had somehow managed to land in. Your eyebrow twitched in irritation as a loud sigh fell from your parted lips, blowing a few stray strands of hair off of your exhausted features. Just great. Of course, the only room left available in this cheap ass motel just so happened to only have one bed in it. Yep, that would be your luck.

Your tired eyes scanned the dimly lit room, the light flickering occasionally as it struggled to stay on. You could empathize. After a tiring day of running errands and fighting off monsters, your lights were struggling to stay on as well. You noted how small the room was and it only caused you further irritation, seeing as how you and Cloud would have to huddle together like mackerel and live on top of each other for the next few hours. But what did you expect for such a cheap price? And there was no way in hell you were sleeping outside again. You had enough fill of outdoor camping to last you a lifetime. With another small huff you gave Cloud a tired look, noticing how the tension in his shoulders had yet to ease since he broke the news. It was highly inconvenient for both of you but it wasn’t his fault. No, you’d just let the owner have an earful in the morning. Right now, you were too exhausted to complain. You just wanted sleep.

"It’s fine, Cloud" you said, a small smile tilting your lips as you tried to ease his worries. "It’s not your fault."

He nodded along to your words but a pensive frown still tugged at his lips, eyebrows pinched together as he silently chewed on his lips. It was obvious something was bothering him but you decided not to push it further. Instead, you dropped your bag at the foot of the bed and proceeded to kick your shoes off.

"Well, we could complain about this all night but it’s probably better to just get some rest" you stated.

Your eyes flickered back to where Cloud was. He had yet to move from the door. You sat at the edge of the bed, the springs creaking loudly in protest as your heavy boots hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Could you close the door?" you asked.

Cloud finally stirred from his thoughts at the sound of your voice. "Huh? Uh…sure."

He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He dropped his bag beside yours as his eyes scanned the room. There really wasn’t a lot of floor space left and he was starting to regret booking a room here for the night. He should have tried to find somewhere else. Though, he doubted you would have been too pleased with that idea. You had claimed that if you had to stay seated on his bike for even one more mile you were going to hurl. His eyes flickered in your direction as you scooted further onto the bed, deciding to settle one side as you rearrange the pillows to your liking. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, heart racing in his ears as his cheeks started to burn. He didn’t know if his poor heart would be able to handle this tonight. Having you sleep so close next to him, barely any room between your bodies. He was pretty sure if that happened the massive crush he had on you was going to inevitably get so much worse after tonight.

Cloud continued to stand at the foot of the bed awkwardly, debating whether he could actually huddle up into a ball on the floor and sleep comfortably. His attention snapped back to you when you cleared your throat.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Cloud opened his mouth to speak but he decided to close it. He gathered his thoughts, eyes flicking nervously between you and the floor as he finally spoke up.

"I think I should sleep on the floor tonight" he mumbled softly.

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost disappeared into the back of your head. "No, you won’t."

Cloud’s frown only deepened. His lips parted but you cut him off before he could argue with you.

"You are not sleeping on that shitty floor tonight. There’s no room for you down there. Just take your gear off and get into bed."

"But-"

"I don’t want to hear some bullshit about you trying to be considerate, Cloud" you continued. "We’re grown ass adults; we can sleep in the same bed without it being weird."

Cloud’s posture was still tense, like he was anticipating an attack from an unknown source. You offered him a soft smile.

"I promise I won’t bite" you added with a teasing remark.

Cloud scowled softly as he waved his hand at you dismissively. "Alright, alright. I get your point. Man, you’re stubborn."

"Takes one to know one~"

His lips twitched into a ghost of a smile as he turned his back to you, proceeding to take off his clunky gear and settle in for the night. His heart would not stop racing, fingers trembling as he undid the various clasps and buckles of his uniform, both elation and trepidation making his blood boil beneath his skin. And if it wasn’t for his own heartbeat droning so loudly in his ears, he might have been able to pick up on your own rambunctious heartbeat threatening to break free from your chest. You were silently screaming on the inside as you buried yourself under the covers of the blanket, mind swirling with thoughts that kept spinning like a record so fast that it made you dizzy. You started picking at the lint under your fingernails to try and keep your mind occupied but it wasn’t working. You were going to spend the night with the man you liked and it made your head feel giddy. You had been friends with Cloud for a very long time and somewhere along the way, your feelings for him shifted. What started out with mutual respect and pure platonic feelings bloomed into pure affection and ever longing yearning. You didn’t know if your poor heart was going to be able to take it this evening, having Cloud so close to you.

Once the last of Cloud’s gear clattered to the floor he straightened his back with a long sigh. He was tired so tired and sore from such a stressful day, yet the tension in his muscles refused to ease. He doubted he would get any rest tonight sleeping next to you. He stepped towards the door, making sure that it was locked before securing his weapon close to the side of the bed he would be sleeping on.

"I’m going to turn the light out now" he said.

You hummed in response, eyes falling shut when the light switched off, bathing the room in darkness. You tried your best to remain still, hands clasped tightly to your chest as your ears perked up to the sound of Cloud moving to the other side of the bed. Your pulse spiked rapidly as the mattress abruptly dipped, springs creaking as he settled in beside you. He hesitated for a moment but decided to join you under the covers, his back almost touching yours as he subconsciously shuffled closer to the warmth your body provided. You could feel him so close to you and you almost rolled away as your heart threatened to leap out of your throat. But if you did that, you’d just end up on the floor. This bed could just barely fit both of you on it. At least it was decently comfortable. Not the best but you’ve slept on worse. And at this point, anything was better than the cold scent of dirt and the unforgiving earth beneath you.

"Goodnight" you whispered into the darkness.

"Night" Cloud replied softly.

You buried your face further into your pillow, body curling further into yourself as you tried to focus on sleep and not the warm body that was resting right behind you. The soft chirps of crickets filled your ears, accompanied by Cloud’s light breaths tumbling from his slightly ajar lips. The darkness was a small comfort as your eyes felt heavy and you tried to get your wandering mind to sleep for the night.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then fifteen minutes passed.

Your eyes cracked open as an irritated huff stirred in the back of your throat. You fidgeted, moving your body to try and fall into a more comfortable position. Your eyes slipped close once more as you nudged your cheek against your pillow. Another five minutes eventually passed. A long sigh blew out your lips as you flipped onto your back, eyes peeling open to stare at the ceiling above your head, the old fan spinning above you barely even blowing a gentle breeze in your direction.

"Cloud, you awake?"

He hummed in response.

"I can’t sleep."

"Me neither" he admitted.

You turned your head in his direction, a frown pulling at your lips as you stared at his back. His shoulders were almost pressed against his ears, tension winding tight in his muscles as his body refused to relax next to you.

"Are you okay?" you asked. "You’ve been tense ever since we got here."

Cloud nodded; strands of his wild blond hair ruffled against the pillow supporting his head.

"I’m fine."

You didn’t believe him. You rolled over to face him, your breathing wavering as you slowly reached out to him. His spine went rigid as you placed the warm palm of your hand between his shoulder blades, his skin erupting with goosebumps at your mere touch. You slowly ran your hand along the ridges of his spine, trying to soothe the ache in his muscles.

"Come on, you can tell little ol’ me" you spoke gently. "Something is clearly bothering you."

"No, it isn’t" Cloud denied.

"Yes, it is" you prodded, your fingers poking at his arm. "Tell me."

"No."

You scowled. "Cloud-"

He couldn’t take it anymore. The soft melody of your voice whispering so soothingly next to his ear, the soft dulcet tones of concern lacing your voice. The way your hand felt on his body, accompanied by the trace of your fingertips. His head felt like it was going to explode, heart swelling with so much affection that it all came spilling out.

"I like you" he blurted.

As soon as the words left his lips, he wished he could pluck them out of the air and shove them back down his throat. That was not supposed to come out. This was not at all how he imagined he would confess to you. Any scenario but this one. Perhaps you hadn’t heard him? But that thought was quickly dashed. Your silence spoke volumes.

You fell eerily still behind him, the ministrations of your hand pausing. You stared at the back of his head in disbelief as every single thought in your head came to a screeching halt. Did you hear him right? Surely you didn’t. There was no way Cloud thought of you more than just a friend…right? Your tongue darted over your dry lips as you swallowed the lump in your throat, the gears in your brain working overtime to start moving again.

"I…huh?"

That was the only response that could work its way out of your mouth. You were frozen stiff, eyes wide and ready to pop out of your skull. Cloud shifted, slowly turning over to face you. Even in the darkness, you could see the bright shade of pink that dusted his cheeks and crept up to the tips of his ears. His eyes flickered around nervously, refusing to settle on one part of your face and instead focusing on any minute twitch in your expression. He sighed. You had obviously heard him and there wasn’t any going back now. He had to be brave and take the plunge. His hands slowly reached out and grabbed yours, fingers curling around your wrists and pressing against the sensitive pulse of your wrists. Your skin was boiling as he looked down at you with lidded eyes, lips so close you could almost taste him on the tip of your tongue. You did not pull away and he saw it as a sign to press forward.

"I said I like you" Cloud repeated, his voice much softer and intimate than before. "I have liked you for a long time now."

The tension in the air was so thick now you could cut it with a knife. The longer you continued to stare into Cloud’s bright eyes, the more you realised how sincere his words were. He wasn’t joking. He was serious. If you were dreaming right now, then you didn’t want to wake up. His warm breath tickled your skin as you took a deep breath, his familiar scent curling in your lungs and making your chest feel light. His fingers rubbed against the sensitive skin of your wrists; the pads of his fingertips lightly calloused from years of fighting. You were silent for a long time as Cloud patiently waited for you to pick the right words out of your head to respond. Much like his confession, the next words you spoke were rushed out on impulse.

"Kiss me."

Cloud blinked rapidly in response, the flush of his skin getting hotter as he stared down at you.

"Huh?"

Now it was his turn to act dumbfounded.

"Kiss me" you repeated, softly; slowly.

Your eyes lingered on his lightly chapped lips, the soft curve so enticingly inviting. The emotions inside of you were ready to boil over and you weren’t sure if you were going to start laughing or crying from the intense swell you felt inside your chest. You sucked down a sharp breath as Cloud suddenly leaned in and closed the distance between your lips. His lips were a lot softer than you imagined and before you knew it, you were kissing him back. The contact between you was much too brief for your liking. When Cloud pulled away to allow you to catch your breath, you were eager for more.

"Again?"

He obliged and placed another chaste kiss on your lips. Your eyes were lidded when he pulled back.

"Again."

You barely got the words out before your lips were smothered by his again. A contented noise stirred in your throat as you threw your arms around his neck, body pressing and tangling closer to one another in the passionate embrace. You were so happy that words couldn’t describe. It felt like a weight had been lifted off you, months and months of one-sided pining finally being reciprocated in a way you didn’t think possible. You didn’t know if you could pull away once you got a taste. The tension in Cloud’s body finally eased as his arms coiled around your waist and squeezed you tight, his excitement and relief of your acceptance expressed in the way he pressed his lisp to yours, his awkwardness slowly fading with each small brush.

"I like you too" you suddenly said; realising that you actually hadn’t verbally confirmed your feelings.

Cloud smiled softly as he pecked your lips once more. He didn’t need to hear you say it. All your affection for him had already been poured into your breath-taking kisses.

"I’m glad" he replied, lips tasting the shape of your mouth.

He squeezed your waist tightly, grip nearly bruising as the air was slowly squeezed from your lungs. You couldn’t contain your breathless giggles. You nuzzled your face against his, the tip of your nose brushing along the bridge of his as you smiled softly.

"I think we have a lot of lost time to catch up on" you said.

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 4 - Thigh Riding

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: set during top gun: maverick, instructor!mav, established relationship, thigh riding, slight praise

word count: 1734

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

You weren’t expecting him home yet.

He must’ve gotten home while you were in the shower.

Brushing through your freshly conditioned hair, you swing your bedroom door open and catch the sight of him on the couch. You nearly beam with excitement from down the hall until you realize he’s very visibly sulking.

Even at the sound of the door opening, and your steps, he doesn’t look up. His sage green bomber lies carelessly beside him, like he’d just removed it and tossed it there. Arms crossed over his plain white tee, his face is pensive, his eyebrows tight. 

“Baby, is everything alright?” you ask in a soft voice, standing where the hallway ends and the living room begins.

You seemingly startle him, and he looks up at you. Then there’s the immediate Maverick-style smile: the kind where his eyes remain downcast, his lips pulled together loosely in a shallow attempt at hiding whatever is bothering him. The kind of smile where he still looks sad. 

You’ve been seeing it a lot lately, ever since your sudden move to North Island. It hadn’t been so bad at first, but the mission was getting closer. He was smiling less, his eyebrows tight on his face. Constantly thinking. You couldn’t do anything about it, either, and it frustrated you a bit. The only option you had was offering comfort, which usually fell short with Pete. Not very keen on comfort and assurance.. Very much on sulking and impulse decisions. 

Still, you believed in him. And you had the utmost amount of trust in his ability to get his pilots through whatever the mission required.

“Why are you home so early?” 

“Fight broke out. Dismissed everybody.” He momentarily shuts his eyes, drags a hand down his face and takes a deep breath. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask softly, leaning against the wall. 

It’s then that he visibly takes in your appearance, his brow cocking ever so slightly. 

Underwear, oversized shirt and your fluffiest white socks. Cheeks pink from a warm shower.

You watch the intrigue grow on his face.

At your question, he chuckles humorlessly and shakes his head, signaling you over with two fingers. “No. Come here.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. 

When he’s able to reach you, he immediately pulls you to him. You land on his thigh, almost kneeing his crotch. You snicker for a second, but then situate yourself, cupping his face in both hands. In a serious tone,  “Are you sure? How do you feel?”

Mav just shushes you, choosing to place his attention on you instead of on the lingering cloud of stress hanging above him. You gradually sink into him as he leans up to press his lips to your collarbone. Very soft, gentle kisses, the tip of his tongue teasing your skin. Your hand absentmindedly finds the back of his head, fingers in his short, dark hair. His mouth always takes you by surprise, how good he is at making you feel with it.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a small groan escaping you as his tongue connects to his favorite spot on your neck.

“You look good,” he murmurs against you, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you forward, even closer.

His words go straight to the pit of your stomach, igniting your desire; the urge to feel every bit of him under you. “I do?” It’s almost like an immediate itch, and your hips involuntarily roll against him for friction. He looks up from kissing along your neck, tensing his thigh when he feels it. He stares at you, pensive. 

“Is that what you want?” he wonders in a dangerously low voice.

You don’t respond, biting your lip in anticipation instead. Not that he gives you time to respond anyway, immediately deciding what it is he wants to do. 

Mav swipes two fingers on his tongue, the sight alone nearly making you moan and then you have to actually bite one back when they immediately travel under your shirt and into the band of your underwear.

Pleasure buds at your core and you squeal in excitement as the wet pads of his fingers pry at your slit. He touches you roughly, eager to turn you on and have you grinding down on him as soon as he can. The thing is, you’re already turned on—were at the first sight of him, really, with that scowl on his face, knowing that he likes it when you help him relax sometimes. It feels like it’s the opposite right now, though, Mav eliciting a wet warmth over his fingers and onto your underwear. Your body beams in ecstasy; it’s just two of his fingers but it’s enough to have your head rolling back slightly, your hips bucking against his hand, needing more.

The tension in your muscles begins to unravel, and, at the same time, one grows in your lower abdomen. When Maverick decides his fingers are drenched enough, he removes his hand. You whine, low in the back of your throat, at the sudden emptiness. You instinctively roll your hips against his thigh again, but he grabs at your waist, interrupting you.

“Get your clothes off,” he orders, sneaking a finger into the band of your underwear and pulling it so that it snaps against your skin. 

His hand is already under your shirt, and he aids you in removing it and tossing it off to the side, your torso now bare to him. There’s a growing desperation inside you, something he started that you need to finish, and so you barely remove yourself from his thigh to take your underwear off. If there was anything sexy about this, it certainly wasn’t the way you pulled on the stretchy band of your garment, leaning forward against Mav as you wrestled it down your legs. With your tits in his face, it’s Mav’s turn to snicker, grip strong on your ribs as you flop around on his lap in a harder-than-it-should-be attempt at stripping. You just really didn’t wanna have to be off of him for even a second. Not when he’s got you this hot and ready for him.

The material of his Levi’s is slightly rough on your skin, but you don’t mind, seating yourself on the meat of his thigh. With his hands around your torso, you fully expect him to guide you against him until he removes them completely, a very tiny smile on his lips. 

“Mav,” you whine.

Tiny smile aside, Mav’s eyes are dark with perversity. “Work for it, come on, sweetheart,” he urges, tone sweet and entirely condescending.

Your hands grasp at his shoulders for a bit of leverage, your hips immediately rolling against him.

Maverick leans back against the couch and it leans you forward too, your clit roughly dragging along the dampening material. Your noises are whiney, impatient, and they go straight to Mav’s cock, half-hard and trapped in his jeans. Your knee rubbing up against it with each motion certainly isn’t helping, either. You know, though, that no matter how hard Maverick was aching to fuck you, he was always willing to power through if it meant that he got to play with you first. Him and that fucking ego—but God, it feels so good. He’s allowed to play with you as much as he wants, you decide, mid-haze. 

Your fingers bunch up the material of his shirt, nails nearly clawing through at the skin of his shoulders as you buck against him. Maverick just watches patiently, hands at his side, ignoring his hard on. The corner of his mouth is still pulled up slightly, eyes still dark. He fucking loves seeing you like this.

You roll your hips again and again, drunk on the pleasure and on the scent of Mav’s cologne. Through your daze—and frankly, the lack of touch on his part—you find yourself gravitating closer and closer, mouth lingering on his jaw. He doesn’t deny you, but he remains nonchalant, watching you. 

Heat spreads in your cheeks under his tantalizing gaze. He’s unfortunately way too good at intimidating you. A part of you feels small, vulnerable, exposed—how could you not? Sitting here fully bare, grinding down on his clothed thigh, grasping at his shirt for any sort of skin to skin contact like it were your one mission on Earth—but the other part of you doesn’t really care. You’ll play his game. Not just because it always leaves you gasping and whining for more, but because you know how much he likes it. You enchant him just as much as he does you.

Maverick suppresses a tiny groan when your knee brushes his aching cock again, but tries to remain collected as you near your orgasm. He’s not going to touch you until you’re cumming, he’s decided.

His jeans are soaked through when you’re eventually seconds away, which make it a bit easier to rub against, your hips rolling faster and faster as your moans spill near his ear.

“Good girl,” he praises softly, turning his face slightly to press his cheek to yours. “Look at you.”

You practically feel your pulse in your core at the sound of his voice, and it shoots through you like a pinball, settling into the tight knot in your stomach. “Touch me,” you gasp, hands roughly finding the back of his neck and wrapping around the back of his shoulders as the pleasure inside you reaches its peak. “Please.”

Maverick cocks a brow again—he fucking loves giving you that look—but you close your eyes in bliss as it washes over you, the white hot blaze licking you all over. You gasp again and again, and it’s then that Maverick’s arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him as you ride the wave. 

“Just like that, baby,” he whispers, a hand tangling in your hair as you twitch in his grip. 

Your grasp on him is probably stronger, holding onto him like you’re scared you’ll slide right off and melt into the floor.

You don’t, though, gradually sinking into his warm embrace instead. Your head rolls onto his shoulder as you float through your high. There’s a tiny stinging feeling down below where your skin dragged along the rough material, but you feel good. A bit more relaxed, even. You hope, as he smiles at you lovingly, that he does, too.

[nonranghaes]

heads up! mentions of a past abusive relationship (for reader). this should really go on wooahaes but i'm too lazy to format it rn and i need sleep so take this ig??? i might repost over there some other time....

there's things that are unfair about having a boyfriend like vernon. you think one of them is how pretty he can look when he's sleeping.

of course, he's still human. he ends up with messy hair, and sometimes he drools, and there's about a thousand other things you can list off about him when he sleeps... but he's still your boyfriend. and thus, every little 'flaw' he has is something you consider pretty on him. he would (and will, when he's in a sappy enough mood) say the exact same about you, to be fair. he shifts a little in his sleep, stretching and reaching for you.

you still remember overhearing him talk to his mom the morning after you slept in the same bed as him for the first time. it'd literally only been sleeping, but you heard him quietly say 'they trust me a lot,' to her while on the phone. he'd been unpacking breakfast. when she asked about it, he merely said "they fell asleep next to me. they've never done that before. i think... i think they trust me," in that pensive way, like he's thinking more than he's actually saying.

(i do, you told him later. trust you. i think i love you, too. and it'd been what made him say that he loves you for the first time--something he didn't expect to hear back without that 'i think' to protect yourself. you said it to him a few weeks later, and he teared up--although he'll always deny it when you bring it up now.)

"you're staring again." he pulls you out of your thoughts with ease, and his eyes meet yours in the low light. "what's wrong?"

you saw today's date. some birthdays never leave you, and that's true of the person who hurt you. the person you only told vernon about a few months ago in full, although he knew of the person's existence before then. you remember what that person said to you, too. that you didn't need anyone else aside from them...

"nothing," you say, and it's a half-lie. it'll bother you a little more, but you don't want to have this talk now. not when you're already starting to drift off, safe in his presence. vernon's good at protecting you from ugly feelings that settle into your bones like an unwanted guest. "we'll talk later, honey."

he gives you a uncertain look. "you only call me honey when you're upset."

(it's a mutual thing: he calls you either by your name or a casual dude any other time, and baby and babe and love of my life whenever he's trying to avoid a topic temporarily. the two of you communicate: vernon's good at making you feel safe in that, too.)

"right," you say. "we'll talk in the morning... homie."

it earns a crackling snort from him, and he smiles that cute gummy smile as he hides his face for a moment. "ah, really... god, you're such a dork sometimes, i swear."

"a dork who landed you," you always remind him. yet when his eyes meet yours a moment later, you feel something warm in your chest that washes away that ugly feeling all too easily. you reach out, holding his face. "i think... i won."

"you won?"

"you love me," you say. "my friends love me... i'm loved," you say quietly, and the feeling still feels a little foreign. you are loved, you repeat mentally for a moment: because they see you as you, not the broken mess you feel you are. "so i won."

vernon gets it soon enough, and he nods. "you won," he says quietly. "i'm glad you're here... homie."

you crack up, too, and he quietly laughs at his own little moment with you. his laugh and his smile always make you giggle, too, and he pulls you in to kiss you happily.

"i love you," he mumbles against your lips, "i love you, i love you, i love you--" and he keeps planting kisses against against and around your lips to punctuate every repeat of the phrase, before he draws back, satisfied after being struck with the need to be overly sappy. "alright?"

gone is that bitter feeling that once flashed through your veins and settled into your bones. all you feel now is love, soft and sweet, as you're so openly reminded that you're not alone. that the two of you shoulder these problems together. you won, you think, because you are alive and being loved and learning to love wholeheartedly again.

"yeah," you settle in to sleep, planning to keep to your promise of talking come morning. "i love you, too, you big sap."

[luimagines]

Visitors From Another World Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Time, Twilight and Warrior.

Content under the cut!

Time

Time was going to wage war against the gods- of this he was sure by now.

“I wonder where they are.” The young boy in front of him pokes and picks off a few leaves from the nearby bush. “My dad would be home sometime next week but grandma and Bubbah would be wondering where I am.”

“So... Link...” Wild has to pause a little, feeling the name sit strangely on his tongue. “You say that you’ve never left home like this before.”

He shakes his head. “I usually stay home with Grandma and my cousin, Zelda. But Bubbah left for a long time a while ago. They haven’t come home yet, so I should look for them too.”

“Do you know anything about Ganon...or Ganondorf?” Wind pokes his shoulder.

Time winces. Standing next to each other, it only shows how young they really are. Wind is still significantly older than the boy. He might be younger than he himself was when he first started.

Said boy shakes his head. “Who’s that?”

Many of the boys shift uncomfortably.

He notices and hums pensively before he tugs on Wind’s shirt. “Is he the one in charge of the monsters? Bubbah went to go fight them when they attacked. Is he a bad guy?”

“One of the worst.” Wind replies instantly. “So you’re sibling went to fight them?”

He nods. “I got caught by a HUGE one! But then Bubbah stepped in and saved me. I got to stay home after that.”

“Sounds like you got lucky.” Legend runs his hand over his face.

“Well we’ll try to get you back home safe and sound, just as before, ok?” Time kneels to look him in the eye. “That way no one worries about you.”

The boy smiles and nods, entirely too trusting. “Ok!”

Something catches in the back of Time’s throat. He’s not sure what it is. This boy should be on his adventure by now. The youngest of them yet. But instead for the love they had for him, he had someone to take his place. No one knows if they’ll come back. He might be first to have escaped the worst of it.

Time reaches over and ruffles his hair. “We’ll make sure nothing happens to you, ok?”

“We’ll need to give him a name.” Four points out. “If we’re all named Link, we can’t exactly call him either.”

“Woah- you’re all named Link too?!” His jumps a little on his toes. It looks like there’s little stars in his eyes at the thought. “I thought I was the only one named Link!”

Time snorts. “It’s quite common actually.”

With a small hum, Time pokes his shoulder. “How about we just call you Lucky? That way no one gets confused when we’re trying to talk to one another.”

He giggles happily and juts his thumbs toward his chest. “I am pretty lucky.”

“Then it’s settled.” Time ruffles his hair one last time and stands again.

“This is going to be interesting.” Legend bites the inside of his cheek. “He doesn’t knw how to fight.”

“And he won’t learn.” Time mutters his breath. “Not if I can help it.”

“That doesn’t sound wise, Old Man.”

“He’s escaped fate enough as it is... I won’t plunge him any further.” Time turns to the group. “There are nine of us. Surely we can all look after one boy.” 

Lucky tilts his head and grabs Time’s hand. Something about these people seem safe to him. So they can’t be all that bad. “Ready to go when you are!”

Something in Time softens even more. “Alright.” He turns to the others. “Let’s go.”

Twilight

“I am Lenora, daughter of Apollo.” The blade poked close to his throat as the young woman stared him down. She couldn’t be much younger than him, if at all. “Who are you and why am I here?”

Twilight can feel his heart beat in his chest as he eyes her. “I am Link... you are in Hyrule but I wouldn’t be able to tell you why.”

There’s a power in her blade, he can feel it. He goes to touch the edge of it and push it aside. Only for his finger to completely go through the blade as if it didn’t exist.

They both freeze.

Twilight does it again. And again. And again.

“Ok that’s enough.” She coughs and pulls her blade away, sheathing it on her back. “That clearly didn’t work as well as I had hoped.”

Twilight stands, dusting himself off. “Can I ask you one question before you go off again?”

“I really don’t think it would work a second time but ok.”

“Who’s Apollo?” 

She freezes a second time.

“Is he some important figure? A king? Chief?” Twilight tries guessing. “You must be from really far away because I’ve never heard that name before-”

“He’s... a god.” She cuts him off. Twilight shuts up in an instant. “The god of music, youths, art, healing, the sun and light-... virtually everything?”

She sees that none of it is clicking for him. She deflates a little. “The one time I get to throw that title around and of course you don’t even know who he is.”

“Our goddess of light is Hylia.” Twilight answers for her. “Are you even from Hyrule?

“Never heard of her.” Lenora sighs. “I’ve never heard of this Hyrule eith- wait.”

Twilight waits.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Link.”

A beat passes. Lenora takes a deep breath turning around to pull at her hair before she turns back around again, sticking her hand out. “I owe you an apology.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll take it.” Twilight takes her hand. “Does being a daughter of Apollo makes you a god too then?”

This could be quite dangerous for them if that was the case. Twilight didn’t exactly know the protocol here on how to deal with gods- but he had hoped that perhaps he could just treat her like he would Zelda and not get cursed in the process. He hopes her gods were just as forgiving as their own...or so he can imagine. He was never the spiritual type to begin with. He’s never felt so out of the loop.

“Good grief- no way!” She waves him off and his unvoiced fears. “I’m only half. I’m just as human as the rest of you but I have like powers and stuff. Nothing fancy. If anything it only gives us trouble. Getting hunted down by monsters since you’re young isn’t exactly a fair trade.”

“Monsters, huh?” Twilight tries to smile. “We have those here too. You should meet my traveling group, they probably more familiar experience with that than I do. Most started out younger than me.”

“Oh yeah.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Would they be able to help me get back home?”

“Doubt it.” Twilight explains. “But they would probably be able to explain what’s happen better than I can.”

“Great. More questions. Love that.” She rolls her eyes, walking past him.

Twilight follows her, putting his own hands behind his back. “I know the feeling.”

“Let me guess...End of the world?”

“Most likely.”

“Monsters coming from different realms and time periods?”

“You know it.”

“...I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

Warrior

Warrior didn’t know what to think about their new comer. They were opinionated and headstrong. Someone he thought he knew how to deal with- but Warrior wasn’t sure what to think of them. They’ve only been around for the span of a few days and even then he was already at his wits end

He pulled his shirt over his head, diving into the river to think and clear his head. It wasn’t often that he indulged himself with a swim, but with so many others keeping an eye out, he didn’t think there was any harm in it.

Beside him is another splash and Warrior has to bite off an earth shattering groan. He dips under the water in hopes to avoid coming in contact with whoever joined him but he needs breath sooner than he realizes.

Coming back up with a gasp, he shakes his head, freeing the water from his hair and wiping it away from his eyes.

“Hello Captain.”

“Yes, hello.” He looks up and screams. “Ah!”

Bare chested and unbothered, the woman in front of him keeps running the water through her hair now that it’s been let out of the daily up do. She stands there coming it with her fingers. “Is there a problem, sir?”

Warrior feel himself flush instantly and looks away to save face. “You’re a woman?”

“Always have been.” She shrugs, still unbothered. Then she pauses. “Did you not know?”

“No!”

“I never tried to hide it.”

“It’s harder to figure it out when you dress and act like a man.” He rubs his hands over his face. Differing opinions makes more sense now- but now Warrior begins to come to the conclusion that there’s getting out of this.

She seems to start taking offence. “And who was I supposed to act?”

“My god.” Warrior gasps, horrified. “I wrestled you!”

He turns around to say it to her face- only to turn right back around and cover his face again. His entire face has turned red by this point. It stretches from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck and travels all the way down his back until his body is a bright pink color.

A beat passes, letting Warrior struggle with his inner turmoil before the woman behind him starts to laugh. 

“You did wrestle me. ...And lost.” She adds through her giggles.

“I don’t care about that.” Warrior whines. “I’m going back on land- you can just... I have no clue... keep doing what you were doing, I guess. I’ll let the others know not to bother you.”

“It’s not that bad.” She adds. “The soldiers back home didn’t have a choice. We get used to it.”

“I’d... rather let you keep some dignity- soldier or not.” He add, moving out of the water. He’s never been so happy to keep his trousers on. He can’t face her anymore. “Is this why they call you Mulan?”

“She was a hero who snuck into the army, pretending to be a man.” Mulan dips backwards, floating on her back against the water. “I got found out a lot sooner than she did but I was allowed to say because they couldn’t afford to kick me out. The General hated it, but eventually we came to see eye to eye.”

“I’ve never heard of that story.”

“I thought it was quite obvious.”

“Well its’s nOt.” Warrior shucks his shirt over his head, ignoring his voice crack.

“Are you going to tell the others?” She gets up suddenly and Warrior senses that there’s an underlying fear there.

He keeps his face to the ground as he talks to her. “No... I don’t know the laws of your land but our queen typically leads the army. It’s not unheard of to hear of women in the army. But we all have secrets. If you’re not going to come out and say it, then I’ll keep this to myself.”

She seems to relax, sinking into the water with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Yes... well..” Warrior clears his throat. “I’ll get going then.”

To then walk directly into a tree.

He powerwalks away, ignoring the giggles he leaves behind. He’s got some reconfiguring to do before he can get anything else done.

[lambtail-tales]

Beg

!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Ichiro Yamada x F!reader (Hypnosis Microphone)

Wordcount: 2510

Paragraphs: 52

I dug this up from the depths of my laptop and did some hardcore editing to it. I wrote this thing like 5 years ago actually so it really needed the fixing up. Not beta'd again, sorry >> Also, surprise, I'm HypMic trash too <3

Warning for sexually explicit 18+ material!

This drabble features light bondage and femdom as a heads up. Maybe orgasm denial if you squint?

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉

He was so cute, squirming under you like this. And you had barely even done anything yet. You got a little laugh out of it. “Ichiro,” You crooned. “You’re so adorable…” You sang softly, admiring the deep shade of red his face had become.

You felt quite proud of yourself, sat atop the man’s waist, straddling his hips. Now that his hands had been bound to the headboard, he had turned his head into the pillow, and he wouldn’t look at you.

You leaned forward, now chest-to-chest with the odd-eyed man. “You have nothing to be shy about…I’ll make you feel really good.” You whispered lasciviously, taking extra care in the soft kiss you pressed to his ear. You would swear you had just heard him whimper.

You sat up straight and began rocking your hips back and forth. You felt his half-hard member stiffen under your slick heat. You took great pleasure in seeing him screw his beautiful eyes shut and watching his chest begin heaving. “Mmm, you like this, don’t you? How dirty…” You purred, staring him down with a glint in your eye. “And that face you’re making!” You chuckled. “So sweet.”

Ichiro opened his mouth to retort, and you decided that grinding your hips a little harder would remind him who was in charge. He groaned, and you eased up just a little.

“I hope you weren’t about to talk back to me…or perhaps, you want more?” You taunted him, leaning in to bring your face close to his again.

Ichiro opened his eyes but kept them averted. You grabbed his chin, holding it firmly between your thumb and index finger. “You know, you should look people in the eye when they’re speaking to you.” He was now forced to meet your half-lidded gaze. “If you want something, all you need to do is ask for it,” With a wicked grin, you looked the man over, dragging one finger slowly over his chest in circles. “I won’t know what you want unless you tell me. I can’t read your mind, Ichiro.”

He muttered something under his breath that you chose to ignore in favor of dipping your head and latching onto the nape of his neck–kissing, biting, and sucking on the skin, reveling in the knowledge that you would be leaving your mark all over him. You made your way to his throat, and you could feel his quickening pulse beneath your lips.

“I could untie you, y’know? I know you want to touch me.” You spoke against his collarbone in soft, licentious tones. “But, only if you ask.” You reminded him. Ichiro glowered just a bit, and you wanted to laugh again. You had wondered if at any point he was starting to reconsider agreeing to this, but he knew what to say if he wanted to back out, and he hadn’t uttered anything close to it. Who would have thought Yamada Ichiro would be this submissive?

“So untie me.” He snipped, and you raised an eyebrow, making a small, pensive sound, though there was nothing that needed thinking about. His brief look of desperation pleased you. But unfortunately for him, that was far from a question.

You thrust your hips against him once more, and he moaned, jerking his own hips just slightly, and you smirked.

“I said you need to ask.” You batted your lashes with unabashed innocence. “Should I make you beg for it instead, since you don’t know how to listen?” He stayed quiet, and you licked your lips. “But then again, I’m getting a bit impatient…” You complained, and you felt his cock twitch. “Looks like you are, too, Ichiro.” You raised one hand and tenderly pushed a few loose strands of hair away from his face for him. “Ah, what to do, what to do…” You tutted, rolling your hips again at an agonizingly slow pace.

The more worked up he got, the more you enjoyed this. Was it cruel? Perhaps. But there would be time for an apology later. For now, you planned to thoroughly enjoy yourself, and take advantage of how vulnerable the man beneath you currently was.

You watched him struggle against his restraints, and an amused hum escaped your lips. “I made sure to make them very tight. Now, Ichiro, what do you want?” You reached between your legs, taking hold of his erection. He grunted as you began massaging circles around his head, occasionally brushing your thumb over the slit as precum beaded at the tip. You felt him begin writhing again, and you laughed. “Cute!” You murmured.

“Do you really need to ask me that?” Ichiro complained, and you just loved how obvious it was that you were driving him crazy. “Quit screwing around!” He barked, though it sounded more like he was pleading with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, and chuckled. “Oh, I don’t need to ask at all,” you said nonchalantly. “I just want to hear you say it.” You spoke in a hushed, seductive tone. “It's so much fun to watch you squirm, and you make the sweetest expressions when you’re needy.” You added, words dripping with carnality, yet still saccharine like honey. “So,” You paused to bring your hand to your lips and lick his taste from your fingertips. “tell me.” You susurrated, and his reaction elicited a muffled laugh from behind your hand.

Ichiro’s face hadn’t yet been this flushed all afternoon, and you had been toying with him like this for quite some time; his embarrassment made you even more eager. He made a noise of frustration and averted his gaze, but you could still see that his shame had crept all the way to the tips of his ears as they grew rosy, much like his cheeks.

“Just hurry and fuck me already.” He growled. “Please.” He added, and his obedience was nothing short of delightful.

“Good boy,” You leaned forward as you lifted your hips up. “that’s what I like to hear.” 

You once more reached for his throbbing member and lined it up with your entrance. You were more than ready for it—you were practically aching to feel the dark-haired man inside you, but you wouldn’t tell him, because he was supposed to be the one begging you for release.

Sinking onto his cock, you leaned back and watched him ball his hands up over his head, and his hips slammed up into you almost instinctively, and you were shameless about the mewling sound that slipped past your lips

 “Mmm, not so fast, Ichiro,” you scolded. “Don’t get greedy.” Placing your hands against his abdomen. You rolled your hips slowly, working yourself into a rhythm. You bit your lip, wanting more already–so, so badly. “Slow,” You whispered. “go slow.” You repeated, and he obliged.

You threw your head back, feeling yourself being taken over by pleasure as heat spread from your core to your chest, then to the very tips of your fingers. How quickly would you fall apart if he had his hands on you, you wondered? But just for a moment.

Without warning, Ichiro picked up his pace, and as much as you wanted to keep bossing him around, it felt too good to stop now. You whined, surely giving way to how desperate you actually were, and you were quite sure in your hazy line of sight, you saw Ichiro smirk triumphantly. You wouldn’t let him win that easily.

“Is that…the best you can do?” You growled between suppressed moans. “I would have thought a former Dirty Dawg would be a bit more impressive.” You leaned forward, so your noses were close to touching. “Do me harder.” You demanded in a husky whisper, grinning at him provocatively.

The glint in his mismatched eyes told him that he was all too ready and willing to do just that. You braced yourself, and he began to rut into you more fervently than before. More moans began to rise from your throat, and to silence them, you smashed your mouth against his, and he invited it by kissing back fiercely, twining his tongue around yours. You had no desire to hold back any longer; you let yourself be overcome by your shameless desire, and it only got better. Breaking your kiss, you watched the thin trail of saliva between your mouths before you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. Sure, you looked messy, but that was all just part of the fun, wasn’t it?

“Mmnnn, Ichiro, are you close?” The closest thing you got to an answer was a single thrust, more intense than he had been just a moment ago. “Haah,” Your voice echoed around the room, above the sound of skin against skin. “d-don’t just think you can cum whenever you want to.” You tossed your hair over your shoulder, noticing that some had stuck to your face thanks to the sweat you had worked up. “You finish when I say you can.”

Ichiro grunted between thrusts, and you knew that had aggravated him, because he was practically scowling at you. He never liked to be ordered around, and you knew it, which just made all of his reactions that much more satisfying, on top of him actually obeying you. Your giggle melted into a wanton sigh, and you arched your back, feeling the bed give out just a little as you rode him harder and faster.

The room was filled with gasps and soft whimpers, and the occasional name on a euphoric breath. You both wanted release, but you were stubborn enough that you wouldn't give it to him just yet. You liked driving him wild like this, and you would make use of your control over the man by teasing him as much as you could for as long as you could hold out, if you could hold out.

“If you can’t handle it anymore, all you have to do is say so…” You reached out to caress his cheek. “Just a few simple words, and you can have what you want…” You panted.

It was quite endearing, the way Ichiro was putting on a tough front, but you knew he couldn’t keep going much longer, and really, you weren’t in much better shape, determined as you were to outlast him. He had slowed down just a bit, and you wondered if he was running out of steam. “Well?” You cooed.

His face was crimson, and it was positively captivating. “D-don’t make me say it out loud.” He groused, and he was met with silence. His exasperated whine was music to your ears. “Let me cum,” He hissed. He was impatient–more so than you had ever seen him, and you adored it. “please.” he finally begged, squeezing his eyes shut.

You definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him like this more often, you thought to yourself. You had turned the tables on Ichiro for once, and now you had him completely wrapped around your little finger.

“What a good boy, using your manners.” You were craving release, so that was certainly good enough for you. “Go on then, Ichiro,” You purred. “give it to me.”

As if on command, rather than with your permission, he came inside of you. 

You reached your own climax as he spilled into you, swearing loudly and moaning his name as orgasm shook your body. Riding wave after wave of pleasure, everything around you seemed softer—fuzzy, even. You slowly eased yourself off of him and settled carefully against his hips, hands at his waist. As the two of you panted heavily, catching your breath in the afterglow, you hovered over him and took his face in your hands, peppering sweet kisses across his face; his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose–anywhere you could reach.

“I’ll untie you now, okay?” Ichiro just nodded, perhaps still unable to properly articulate coherent words, perhaps just content to bask in blissful silence for a bit longer.

You reached above him, making sure to take extra care when undoing the knot around his wrists. “There.” You soothed when you finally got it loose, and you couldn’t help but feel bad, watching him rub at the angry red marks that had been impressed into his wrists as you tossed the rope away. “Does it hurt?” You frowned.

“No,” Ichiro muttered. “but damn, that sucked!” He complained, and he was pouting.

You tilted your head. “Oh?” You took one of his arms and pulled it towards you. “Sorry…anything I can do for you?” You asked timidly, pressing your lips to one particularly deep mark on his skin.

Ichiro watched you, eyes shifting from your mouth to your eyes after a moment. “Let me touch you next time.” His words came softly, and you felt one curled finger graze your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, thrilled by the promise of a next time.

Your airy laughter echoed around the dim room. “Is that all?” You murmured, turning his hand over to kiss his knuckles. “I suppose I could let you have your way next time.” You teased

Ichiro rolled his eyes, but he did nothing to hide his smile. “What a handful.” He combed his fingers through your hair, and you rested your hands on his shoulders.

“Ehh? Me?” You craned your neck to place one more kiss up against his jawline. “That isn’t a very nice thing to say.” Even so, your crooked grin was one of adoration.

You laid against him, head to his chest, and you could hear his rapid pulse slowing down little by little as his strong arms wrapped around your waist. After a quiet moment in which you had settled down comfortably, you found your voice again.

“I really love you, y’know…” You closed your eyes, thinking it both strange and wonderful that your bodies fit together so perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. You didn’t think you could ever love anyone more than you loved Ichiro.

You felt his breath catch for just a moment, and he kissed your temple. “Mmm, I love you, too.” He murmured. “But next time I won't go easy on you.” He joked.

You giggled, giving him one more kiss, featherlight on his lips. “Of course, Ichiro.” You humored the man, patting his cheek before standing on weak legs.

He raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbows as he watched you, just waiting for your knees to buckle. “And where are you going?” He objected.

“As much as I would love to stay in bed with you, I need a shower before your brothers get back from school.” You said nothing of the mess dripping down your thighs–he had noticed. You could tell by the sheepish look on his face. “And so do you.” You added while you turned away to head to the washroom. “You’re more than welcome to join me if you want.” You called behind you before breezing down the hall stark naked.

You could hear him laugh, and in no time he was padding along right behind you, catching you around the waist and pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, eliciting a startled squeal from you, that only lasted for a second, quickly dissolving into contented laughter as you returned the gesture in kind, kissing his cheek once more.

[spreadyovrwings]

Straight Through The Heart

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (f) reader

Warnings: Smut (pegging, dirty talk, slight sub/dom dynamics if you squint? but this is pretty tender stuff i hope and much shorter than my usual tomes)

//

“So I just..?” 

“Pretty much!” 

“And you’re sure about this?” 

“Oh, very sure.” 

“This is crazy.” 

“Remember, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfy with. Okay?” 

A pensive look crossed Eddie’s face, then he shook his head again, glancing down at the strap between you.  

“This is so crazy.”

You laughed softly, gently, looking up at him with a quiet fondness that you would only ever associate with Eddie Munson. 

The creases bracketing his smile vanished for a moment as he got himself comfortable, shifting around on your thighs.  

He was sitting in your lap, a position Eddie had never actually been in before. It had taken a lot of coaxing to get him there - he spent a good three minutes fretting about squashing you - but now he was settled nicely, his knees on either side of your hips, looking down at you with those big brown eyes.

He really was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.  

“How long have you been planning this, sweetheart?” 

He was teasing you, his wicked smile told you so, but Eddie’s voice was edged with trepidation. 

“Never figured you for such a deviant.”

As he spoke, he wound his gangly arms around your neck, crossing his wrists together so that his hands could hang behind your head.  

“Hmm, probably since I saw you bending over that pool table at Rusty’s a few months ago.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head and making his hair fall around his shoulders so prettily, it was enough to drag your gaze away from his pink, parted lips.

“I knew you weren’t paying attention. I should’ve known.”

“I can’t help it, pretty boy,” You feigned innocence, even as you dragged your hands down his back to rest on his hips. “You’ve just got such a cute little ass.”  

To your delight, Eddie arched his back a little, trying to tempt your hands further down.  

“Baby…” 

He was so desperate to be touched, he didn’t care how whiny he sounded. Eddie always felt safe with you. 

You beamed, pleased with yourself when you felt him start to shift in your lap again. 

“Couldn’t help thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you. Had to stop myself bending you over that table and pressing my hips against your ass right there and then.” 

As you spoke, you began to circle his hips, pulling him around and around, so delicate and slow that Eddie’s dark eyes appeared to gloss over.  When his cock bumped against the strap, he hissed softly, half shy, half too turned on to care.

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, catching it between his teeth to stopper the moan sitting in his throat as images of what you described flashed through his head.  

“You’re out of this world, sweetheart. God, you’re fucking insane.”

“You didn’t seem to mind when I was getting you nice and ready for me.”

You slipped your hands round to grip the undersides of Eddie’s thighs, pulling him up so that he was kneeling now. You dug your nails into his thighs, not enough to hurt but it had its desired effect.  

Eddie whined, his aching cock pressed tight against his soft stomach.  He’d started to leak all over himself. He wouldn’t last much longer and you hadn’t even fucked him yet.

You kept your eyes on his, even though your heart was hammering in your chest and the way he was starting to roll his body into yours was almost dizzyingly hot. 

“Mm, no, you seemed very in favour when I was fingering you open for me, pretty boy.”  

You clasped his ass in both hands, spreading him open just enough to make Eddie whimper and squirm in your lap.  

“Almost made a mess of the bed and we’ve barely even got started.”

You smiled when you felt his fingers dip into your hair and immediately start to tangle themselves at the back of your head. It was something he often did when you were cuddled up on the couch watching TV, or when he’d stretch his free arm behind your headrest while he was driving.  

His chunky rings were cool against your neck, his skin, in contrast, shockingly warm against yours as he leaned forward to bury his face in your shoulder. 

“Please don’t stop touching me like that. Please.” 

He mumbled the words against your skin, his lips, his breath, his slightly slurred speech all hot as he dragged his mouth along your chest.

“Oh, Eddie, baby,” You smiled and caught his jaw in your hand, pulling his head up so that you could meet his gaze. “You always sound so pretty when you beg.” 

Eddie whined as you pulled him into a messy kiss, your fingers pressed into his hollowed cheeks as you held his lips against yours.  

You dipped your tongue into his mouth, taking what was rightfully yours, pulling moan after needy moan from his heaving chest. 

If you were being completely honest, doing this with Eddie had been racing around your head for far longer than you’d ever admit to him. It was his long legs, those tight black jeans, the way he whined when you kissed him hard and you knew he was completely at your mercy.

When you first mentioned the strap, Eddie had turned very pale, but after discussing the mechanics and after he’d read a few articles about how good it could make him feel, he was fully onboard.

It had taken a while to get him ready tonight. When you first suggested pegging him, you knew it might take a lot of work to get Eddie comfortable and prepared, but you hadn’t expected the wrist ache and his impatient whimpers. 

He was tense at first, as were you, but it didn’t take long for Eddie to relax, not when you were scissoring your fingers inside him with one hand and stroking him with the other.

Flat on his back, his long legs spread, he’d looked almost sinful as he begged for more and more, until you had three fingers inside him. Even when Eddie raised his head from the pillows and caught you grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he couldn’t stop whimpering and rolling his hips against your hand.

You talked to him sweetly, encouraging him and pressing soft kisses around his bare hips, while your fingers curled inside him.

You were just starting to get tired and almost suggested switching positions, when you happened to drag your fingertips in just the right way and Eddie yelped, his entire body tensing up.

You paused, making sure you hadn’t hurt him, but Eddie immediately began to gabble, begging you not to stop, to please do that again. So you moved your fingers again, brushing against just the right spot, and Eddie melted into the bed like candle wax. 

“Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Baby, baby, baby…”  

You smiled to yourself, self-satisfied and smug, and began to nip at the pale skin of his hips, watching Eddie’s face contort in pleasure as you massaged the area with your fingertips.  

“Mm, God, fuck me,” Eddie’s mouth fell open, his long fingers gripping the mattress. “Fuck, I can’t- We need to stop, sweetheart, or you’re gonna make me cum like this.”

You paused with your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, looking up at him daringly, before pulling away with a noise that made Eddie whimper pathetically. That didn’t sound like the worst idea right now. But you were here for a reason.

“How would you like me to fuck you, honey?” 

“In my ass?” 

“No, I m-” You both giggled, glad for the break in the tension. “I mean, what position would you like to be in, hot stuff?” 

Eddie thought about it for a moment, then gave you a wobbly, almost drunken smile, his cheeks red. 

“Can I ride you?” 

And now, here you were. 

You’d gently persuaded him into your lap, kissing him as often as you could to keep him relaxed and smiley, while your hands skirted over his body.  

“You ready, baby boy? I wanna make you feel so good, love.” 

Eddie’s legs were wiry and slim, and as you ran your hands up and down his bare thighs, you could feel his muscles tensed in anticipation. 

“Just go nice and slow, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world, pretty boy.” 

Colour rose in Eddie’s cheeks at the nickname. 

It was one of the more innocuous terms of endearment you used for him. He even let you get away with calling him it in front of his friends. Right here, right now, it had a new depth to it, and his already shallow breathing began to shudder at the thought of what else you might have in store for him. 

He lifted his hands from the headboard, hovering them just above your bare shoulders.  

“Can I..?” 

You smiled and rubbed his thighs sweetly. 

“Sure, honey, anything you need.” 

He didn’t lean on you, just used your shoulders for balance as he sat back a little, then raised himself onto his knees.  

“Am I doing it right?” Eddie asked, even though he’d barely even started. “It’s not like I’ve done this before.” 

“Neither have I.” 

You gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, but after watching him moan and arch his back all evening for you, the throbbing between your thighs was becoming too much to ignore. You wouldn’t last much longer either. 

“You’re perfect, baby boy. Doing so well for me.” 

Something coiled in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, warm and familiar. He could do anything, he decided, if you kept talking to him like that. 

He positioned himself above the strap-on, and you held it steady for him, which he found oddly charming. 

“Nice and gentle now, sweet boy,” you said softly. 

Your hand rose to brush his lovely hair back from his face but you didn’t want to distract him, so you settled for squeezing his hip instead. 

Eddie nodded, then started lowering himself down. 

You both froze when his eyes went wide and he stopped almost immediately, his fingers digging into your shoulders. His metal bracelet swung and hit your skin, cold and soothing. 

“It’s- Shit, sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” You couldn’t quite reach to kiss him, so you turned your head and pressed your lips to his wrist, then his forearm. “You’re alright, Eddie, you’re doing so good.” 

He gave you a shaky smile, then seemed to take a moment to centre himself. You watched Eddie pull in a long breath, then let it go again, measured and calm. 

He kept going, thighs trembling with the effort and his head tilted down, right down so that you couldn’t see his expression behind all that hair. By the time he was fully seated in your lap, his skin was shining with sweat.  

“You doing okay, sweet boy?” 

You squeezed his hips, being careful not to move around too much so as not to jog him.  

“I’m good. I’m okay.” 

“It doesn’t hurt? You’re nice and comfy?” 

“I feel…” Eddie gave his hips an experimental roll, choked, and threw his head back. “Ohhh fuuuck.” 

Your mouth fell open as he moved again, rocking his hips just a little, then a little more, without you having to tell him. Usually, you were the one giving the orders but you’d let Eddie off just this once.  

He was panting, his fingertips pressing into your shoulders every time he moved in just the right way. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the way his pretty face scrunched up in concentration, the way his tongue darted out to wet his parted lips, the way his stomach tensed and relaxed as Eddie rocked more and more on your strap.

“That’s it, honey, that’s it,” You rubbed his thighs, moaning softly when Eddie gave a pitiful whine in the back of his throat. “Just like that, pretty boy, you’re doing so well for me. Think you can start moving up and down now, Ed.” 

“O-Ohh fuck.” 

Eddie hissed and bit his lip as he lifted himself off the strap just a little, then sank back down again. 

Your eyes were wide as you watched him repeat the motion again and again, slowly but surely, until Eddie was bouncing on you. This was definitely one of your better ideas.

“Oh God, Eddie, fuck,” Breathless, you kissed his wrist again. “You look fucking amazing.” 

Despite himself, Eddie smiled. His cheeks were pink and his hair was starting to stick to his forehead. He looked like a fucking dream. 

“Is it as good as you imagined, sweetheart? You happy now?” 

You matched his grin as you dragged one of your hands round to his ass and squeezed, while the other slipped around his cock and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts. 

“Oh, very happy, honey.”

Eddie whimpered, his hips jerking forward into your hand. He leaned back, one hand propping himself up on your thigh as he started to move faster. He swore under his breath, dragging himself up and down the strap, and all the while you watched him with a delighted smile.  

“You’re such a good boy, Eddie. Can’t believe how good you look riding me, baby boy, I’m absolutely soaked.” 

He smiled down at you, pleased with the praise, but then he must have hit some spot inside him because his face fell, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he ground to a halt. 

“Oh, God,” he whispered.

Eddie slowly circled his hips, fucking himself deep and slow and deliberate, moaning so obscenely, it actually made you blush.  

You stopped stroking him, so in awe you simply forgot.  

“God, Eddie, look at you. How does it feel?” 

He let his head hang back, and you could only imagine how beautiful his long hair looked cascading down his back. 

“So good, sweetheart.” 

You hummed, unimpressed. He could do better than that.  

“How does it feel having my strap inside you? Fucking yourself for me like this?”

Eddie hissed and bit his lip, circling his hips once more before he began to bounce on you again.  

“So fucking good. I can’t- It’s so much, sweetheart.” 

You thumbed at his head, then twisted your hand, making Eddie’s hips stutter.  

“You look fucking amazing, Ed. Look so good with my strap in that tight little ass.” 

His dark eyes met yours. Eddie looked at you like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that. Then he laughed and moaned all at once, like he couldn’t believe how much he fucking loved it.  

“Holy shit, baby.”

Arching his back, Eddie rode you until he couldn’t even keep his eyes open any longer. He groaned and whimpered, letting out a sweet little ‘ah! ah! ah!’ sounds that made you feel dizzy.  

“Such a good boy for me,” you murmured, mostly to yourself, then slipped your hand around his back so that you could pull him forward and kiss the centre of his tattooed chest.  

“Keep talking like that, I’m not gonna last much longer.” 

His words were staccato, cut short by little pants and breathy whines that were growing steadily higher and higher as he continued to circle his hips. 

“Good,” You slowly brought your hips up to meet his, grinning when Eddie whimpered again.  “I want you to cum for me, baby boy. You’re not gonna last long at all, are you?” 

“Fuck- No, not gonna last.” 

“You never do, do you, love?” 

Eddie flushed, the colour spreading all the way down to his navel as he shook his head.

“You’re just so good, sweetheart. Can’t help it. I- Oh.”

He stilled suddenly, then the hand that had been propping himself up flew back to your shoulder.

“I think I’m gonna- Oh, God, this is intense. I didn’t think it would be so- I mean I knew it would be- Oh, God, I’m gonna cum, baby, can I please?”

You laughed softly, always so enamoured by how chatty Eddie got when he was close. You rubbed his thighs sweetly, smiling up at him with pride.

“That’s my good boy. Cum for me, Eddie. You always look so pretty like this, honey. Wanna watch you cum all over yourself, sweet boy.”

“Fuck-”

Eddie’s eyes screwed shut, his mouth hanging open as moan after obscene moan fell from him. He kept bouncing on you until, suddenly, he froze and his grip tightened on your shoulders.

“Babybabybaby-”

Eddie whined, bucking his hips a final time, and with two more strokes of your hand, he came, hard. White splattered all over his heaving chest and his soft stomach, while Eddie moaned so loud, you were sure the neighbours would hear him.

He collapsed into you, mewling softly against your skin. He was so sensitive, even the slightest movement seemed to make his whole body jolt, so you stayed as still as you could, whispering praise by his ear and stroking his hair until Eddie finally came back down to earth.

When he raised his head, he seemed to see through you for a second, but then his glazed eyes cleared and he blinked at you dreamily. His pretty mouth stayed open as he panted, his warm breath brushing your cheeks.

“Good?” you asked.

Eddie nodded.

“Good,” he agreed. “Very good. Fuck. Forgot who I was for a second. C’mere.”

He pulled you into a kiss that was half sweet and grateful, and half provoking. His tongue slid over yours, then he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. Oh, he was a bad boy.

“So? Thoughts?”

You squeezed Eddie’s hips, trying to ignore how slick and wet your thighs had become. This was about him, about making your boyfriend feel good, your turn would come.

“Few and far between at the moment, sweetheart, I’ll be honest,” Eddie smiled, tired and sweaty but sated. “But that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

You beamed, but your loving reply was cut short when Eddie moved to get off you, groaning under his breath, and sat between your thighs.

His long fingers wrapped around your calves, then, grinning, he tugged sharply but carefully, so that your whole body slipped down the bed, your head now resting against the pillows.

“Oh!” You laughed as Eddie clambered over you. “Wait, let me take this thing off.”

You moved to sit up but Eddie stopped you with a kiss. His big hands covered yours, resting together where you’d begun to unbuckle the strap.

“Leave it on,” he murmured against your lips. “Please?”

“Ohhh,” You grinned as Eddie moved back down your body and carefully parted your thighs. “Good boy.”

//

Master List

[tkblythofficial]

Ok bitches, here's some zeglyth. 😊

--

"Sorry -" they say at the same time when their hands touch,  having reached for the only flamingo print mug on the shelf. 

His lips parting, he takes her in. She does the same. There's more white in his hair, she observes, but his face has retained the boyish charm, the deceptive innocence.

Despite everything, she can't help the wide grin splitting her face. 

"No way!"  

He barks out a laugh. "It really is you!" 

There's a second of awkwardness, uncertainty as his arms give a tiny jerk towards her, as if he's about to hug her. He doesn't. 

It's okay, she tells herself - she wasn't going to either. It has, after all, been years and years since they last talked properly.  They're not, by any means, on hugging terms. 

His eyes give her a quick once-over. "So, what are you doing here?" 

The question quickly sobers her. Her mouth opens and closes twice without making a sound. He watches, patient, sensing her discomfort. 

She remembers this, his almost annoying, scrutinizing perceptiveness, his sensitivity and attunement to her every little mood swing. 

Finally, she shrugs. "I just need new stuff," she says quietly. 

He waits,  giving her time to say more, and when she doesn't, hedges. "More stuff?" 

She nods firmly. "I've moved out -" she clears her throat to keep her voice steady,  "of the previous apartment." 

His eyes narrow. "You have? You mean, you and- " 

"I've a new lease!" She says quickly to prevent him from finishing the sentence. She isn't ready to talk about the breakup yet. "And it's really nice. But the flat is empty, obviously - so, here I am." 

There's a long pause before he nods in understanding, peering down at her. "Here you are," he repeats. 

She gives him a quick smile before her eyes scan around their surroundings. They're lucky IKEA in Brooklyn is practically empty on Monday morning. She doesn't know if she'd be able to handle any unwanted attention now, especially with him here. 

"What about you?" She asks to change the subject. "What brings you here?" 

His pensive eyes haven't strayed from her, but he plays along, mimicking her conversational tone. 

"Just needed a new mug," he says, glancing  down at the item in her hands.

He doesn't say why. She doesn't probe, because he didn't. 

She stretches out her arm at him. "Take it, you should have it," she says. 

"Oh no, it's all ri -" 

"No, really. You should have it," she insists, firmly pressing the pink flamingo mug into the middle of his chest, so that he has no choice but to cradle it in his palm.  

The pitch of her voice rises in jest as she speaks. "Perhaps it will remind you of the good times! You know, when you'd have your roots bleached at 5 AM." 

She's fully prepared for him to not get it, not remember, but then he laughs - a deep, melodious sound from his belly. 

"Nothing like sniffing wig glue at dawn," he deadpans, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. 

She can feel her cheeks turning hot at the unexpected, devastating, open fondness of his expression as looks down at her. "I can't believe you remember my flamingo mug from that trailer in Poland." 

She shrugs in a way that she hopes looks casual. "Well, you once scalded me with hot coffee from that mug when we were dancing. Hard to forget." 

He laughs again, shaking his head, one palm sliding down his face. She notices the absence of the ring on the finger. 

"Shit, I remember," he says, and then - in what seems like a split second - his face is composed again. How does he do it? She had always wondered how his micro expressions could  shift so quickly, so expertly. 

"I'm sorry," he suddenly says. 

They study each other silently. 

She almost asks if he's apologizing for scalding her with coffee ten years ago or for his part in the cooling off of their friendship, for the overly-formal, generic correspondence on birthdays, movie release days and Christmases; the increasingly icy politeness of his tone as the years passed. 

"You know, I actually brought it with me to New York, but then one day, I knocked it off the table and broke it." 

She nods at the mug in his hand (and tries to ignore how tiny it looks in his palm). 

"Another chance, then," she says. "New beginnings." 

The grip of his fingers around the mug grows firmer. His thumb lazily brushes over the pink flamingo's neck on the ceramic. 

He nods. "New beginnings." 

--

Now, Anon…….I immediately know you’ve been on this blog a while because this is out of pocket

1. Flamingo print mug? JAIL FOR YOU

2. Not him having white hair omg? That gagged me because that could be 2 years from now 🤭 JK JK!

3. R being in her 30s and still in denial? Did my girl dirty 😭

This is so sad and cute! I need more!

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 30: Rain

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list...which is from October 2022 and not March 2023!!! I know, I know, this is a ridiculously late submission—I promised to finish the last two days of Beboptober in November and then just...never did. For a while there I thought it would be forever unfinished and just sorta languish, like Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony. What do we even CALL this now? Beboparch? Beborch?

But I am FINALLY finishing it (while procrastinating on other actual schoolwork, as is custom for me), and here it is! Once I’ve gotten all the chapters out (this and Day 31 are all I have left!), I’ll be collecting all the chapters and posting them to AO3 in one long work.

I’ll be tagging some of the other lovely friends in the Bebop fandom who have helped get me through Beboptober: @aldreantreuperi, @eclaire-and-pocky, @mx-sinisters, @spike-and-faye, @noblesixofhalo, @allicaj and @smithasandwich among them!

Oh, and this fanfic takes place pre-series, pretty early in the Spike-and-Jet partnership. Very mild TW for descriptions of PTSD triggers/flashbacks seen from the outside.

Spike and Jet were planetside, having collected the reward money for their most recent catch—small potatoes, barely enough to cover a few days’ worth of decent meals, but at least it was better than nothing. They’d bought a few necessary supplies and had been making their way back to their ship, bantering about something or other—probably about the kind of food Jet would make with the groceries they’d picked up—when all of a sudden the sky opened up, and they had to run back to the Bebop, as fast as they could, to avoid catching the brunt of it.

It was the kind of storm where the rain pounded down in torrents and the sky looked so bleak and gray that you couldn’t help but feel the same way; the kind of storm that made Jet shiver and his arm feel creaky and rusty, and that made him want nothing more than to curl up in a warm room inside with his bonsais and a cup of tea. Or, better yet, just pilot the Bebop out of there and into outer space, far above the rainclouds, where the star-studded sky was dark and calm.

But not Spike. He stood stock-still, the rain washing over him. His usually-fluffy hair hung limp, plastered to his forehead.

“Spike,” Jet called out from the entrance to the Bebop, gesturing for his partner to follow.

Spike was silent, unmoving. It was as if Jet wasn’t even there.

“Spike!”

“It was raining that day too,” Spike said under his breath, so softly that Jet wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“Huh?” Jet lowered the grocery bags in his arms and moved a bit closer, leaning in to catch the words.

“That day. In the graveyard.” Spike still took no notice of Jet; the smirk that had been on his face just moments earlier was replaced with a faraway gaze. Preoccupied. Pensive. Like the thousand-yard stare of a soldier. “It was raining then too.”

Jet had no idea what Spike was talking about. They’d only been partners for a few months, but in that time Jet had learned that Spike didn’t like to talk much about his past. Every question Jet had asked about it had been met with a brush-off or a drily sarcastic joke or, when Spike was in a particularly bad mood or a few drinks in (or both), a sharp rebuke. Jet hadn’t pushed the issue very far; he supposed everyone had boundaries. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to just offer up all willy-nilly the story of how he lost his arm, either. Some things were better left in the past.

But he knew that look, the one on Spike’s face now. He’d seen it a lot on his fellow officers in the ISSP who were dwelling on the past, lost in painful memories—even if they didn’t want to be, didn’t plan to be. Some were so lost they couldn’t move. Some did things they regretted later. That was the tricky thing about the past—it had a way of sneaking up on you.

So he made his way over to Spike. The rain fell over him in a deluge, the drops bouncing off his bald head and sliding off his metal arm, but he barely noticed. He shifted his bags of groceries to one hand and, as gently as he could, took Spike by the arm. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

At Jet’s touch, Spike’s expression suddenly cleared and his face seemed to harden. “Right. Home.” He shook his head, as if he were physically shaking off whatever had come over him (or maybe just drying himself off, the way dogs did—Jet couldn’t tell); then his face relaxed and he threw Jet a sideways, sardonic glance. “For a delicious, hearty meal of Nothing But The Cheapest Carbs In The Store.”

“Hey!” Jet replied in mock outrage as they set off in a jog back to the Bebop’s door. “I’m doing my best here.”

“Guess it’s better than having to look forward to our third straight day of ramen. Without even an egg for flavor.”

“Eggs are too damn expensive these days….”

As the door closed behind them, shutting out the storm, Jet realized he still didn’t know what exactly it was from Spike’s past that had him in such a chokehold. Something about a graveyard, and rain—that, right there, was the most Spike had ever offered up, and Jet wasn’t sure Spike was even aware he’d said it.

He supposed that information would come in time. Or never at all.

But for now, they were here—Spike hanging up his jacket and wringing out the bottom of his shirt with an expression of disgust, Jet stocking the pantry with the food they’d picked up, the two of them getting ready to fly the Bebop away from the planet, from the rain, from everything.

That, he guessed, was what mattered.

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

A Year Without (Chp 7: First Half)

TUMBLER EXCLUSIVE!!

My muse and I are not on good terms this week. I am hoping by getting this out here a bit early, we can power through the TWO REMAINING VINGETTES we have in this fic. Unfortunately, those TWO scenes are in this chapter and the one following.

So... to sate the hunger of any readers who are interested and to try to get the muse on board... Enjoy the top half of Chapter Seven! (Not tagging since this is a half-baked idea to try to force my silly self into action.)

Day 194

"Lady Bell," Hook spoke into the emptiness of his quarters. She could be anywhere in the realm, so he tried to keep busy while he waited, listening carefully for any indication she would answer his summons.

He set out two lowball glasses, pouring a generous amount of rum into them both. He arranged the chairs, so it would be clear to Tink that this was a business request and not another clumsy proposition.

He owed her some apologies for attempting to forget another woman in her arms when she'd first arrived in Storybrooke. His jaw clenched as he worried that she hadn't answered yesterday's summons and likely would not answer tonight's due to that little encounter.

Hook let out a resigned sigh and settled into his chair, furthest from the one he'd pulled out for Tink and closest to his bed. He propped his feet on the low cabinets, boots crossed, as he gazed out the windows. Despite himself, he knew he was looking for any hint of bright green light to indicate that Tink had received and accepted his request.

Only the stars were twinkling in the night sky before him.

He refilled his glass and nursed the heavily-spiced rum while he continued his fruitless sentinelling. His thoughts drifted as the liquor began to spread through his body, cheeks flushing and limbs relaxing.

He pulled her into him, his hook low on her hip and his hand twisted in her hair. He'd made the motion confidently, despite his pulse pounding in his ears. Yet, she hadn't pulled back. She'd complied, more really, eagerly stepping into his touch. She'd still had the slightest hint of rum on her tongue from his flask. Every sip of rum since served as a reminder and a disappointment.

"Pensive tonight, aren't you?" a bright voice almost sang from behind him, shattering his thoughts around him and dragging him into the present.

"Lady Bell," Hook stood, turning to face her.

"Good evening, Hook." Tinkerbell replied, "I've heard all kinds of interesting stories about your return." She cocked her head, openly studying him as if she could determine which stories were true by observing him.

"You've got your wings back," Hook replied.

"You called me here."

"Aye."

"So, you knew that I'd gotten my wings back."

"I had hoped," he began.

"Well, isn't that something?" Tink interrupted with a knowing smile. She gestured to the untouched glass on the table, "is that a bribe?"

"Actually, I had wanted to ask if you'd be able to assist with something," he confessed, as he reach to scratch behind his ear.

Tink shot him a suspicious look, lips pursed and eyes filled with warning. But, she waited for him to continue.

"I need passage into the Fae lands." His words sounded more like a confession than a request. He watched as the annoyance faded into confusion before she settled on mildly curious.

"Why?"

"I am on the trail of Captain Sparrow's lost treasure."

Her eyes narrowed, "why?"

"It is treasure, love. And, I am a pirate."

"You're asking to enter the lands of the Fae. Which is it, Hook? Revenge or love?" she studied him, once more.

"Oh, I see," she murmured.

His only response was a raised eyebrow and a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Day 200

"Here?" Hook asked, scanning the sea around him - for that is all there was, water. Everywhere he looked, only the curve of the horizon met his eye. No waves breaking in a new pattern, no hazy change in colour, no shadows in the water to hint at land. "You know this for certain?"

Tink sighed, but kept her eyes focused ahead, "The lands are glamoured and warded. Did you think I stayed because I enjoy your company?"

"Most women do," he said, voice deeper. She knew if she turned to face him, he'd have a flirtatious smirk plastered on his face. She also knew that his eyes would give him away for the pretender he was.

She'd read on his face everything he'd not said that first evening. He was traipsing into these dangerous lands and risking his life for love. She hadn't figured out how he thought the fabled treasure would reunite him with Emma Swan, but she had no doubt this was a gamble, a desperate one at that, to see her again.

She shook her head since he could not see her eye roll and focused on taking down the wards to allow their passage.

"Keep moving forward," she directed him.

"Aye," he replied, the teasing stripped from his voice.

A comfortable quiet settled between them as they worked, her untangling the wards and him keeping the ship sailing toward land he could not see.

“Bloody…,” Hook said under his breath, as vibrant blue and green cliffs rose out of the water, blocking the horizon on either side of the ship, the sea squeezed, winding out of sight between them.

The wind suddenly changed course, causing the Jolly Roger to jerk viciously in his grasp. He gave her a moment to adjust to the new waters, to get comfortable with the sudden and strange winds in her sails, and to settle between the land, pressing heavily on them from both sides, before he firmly took hold of the wheel to guide her the centre of the straight and continued to navigate her toward the dangers lurking in the heart of the Fae Lands.

[blitzendoggo]

Candy Thief

It’s a lazy Sunday morning in the Abderus-Murphy household, and there is a candy thief among them.

Skog/Glib (822 words)

~~

“Hey, babe?” Glib calls from the entryway to the kitchen, just barely sticking his head out to look at Skog. Said orc is sitting reading the newspaper at the dinner table without his signature pinstripe suit and instead wears no shirt and only tight black sweatpants.

“Yes, my darling?” Skog asks, barely raising his head up to look at the shorter. His attention is fully on his lover, but he still skims the morning paper for anything interesting.

Glib readjusts his shirt -it's actually Skog’s, but most of his shirts are nowadays- as he steps into the dining room. “Do you know what happened to my last blue jolly rancher?” Glib asks. “I coulda swore I had one left.”

Skog grins as he looks up. “Do you mean this one?” He sticks out his tongue and, sitting on the edge of his tongue, sits the dark blue candy.

“You bitch!” Glib accuses jokingly, as Skog pops the candy back into his mouth. “That was mine!”

“Oh, was it now?” Skog says with a teasing lilt as he sets his newspaper down.

“Yes!” the human says, crossing the room and standing in front of the orc.

He smiles up at the human cheekily. “Well, it's mine now.”

Glib studies him with a pensive expression for a long moment before an idea seemingly occurs to him. He smoothes his hands up the bare chest of the orc, settling them on his shoulders as he smoothly climbs into the bigger’s lap. He leans forward until their chests touch and his thighs are spread wide over the orcs.

“Now, what on Earth are you doing, my love?” Skog asks as he settles his large hands on the human’s hips.

Glib buries his face into the orc’s neck as he mumbles, “Pouting.”

Skog laughs. “Because I stole the last jolly rancher?”

“No, because you stole the last blue jolly rancher!” Glib whines.

“Yes, so there are others,” the orc tries to soothe only for the younger to sit back and look at him like he had said the sky was neon orange.

“You did not just tell me that,” he says flatly.

Skog leans forward and Glib leans further back. “Oh, don’t be like that,” Skog huffs as he kisses the disgruntled human’s cheek.

“Skog,” he whines. “You know blue is my favorite.”

“Yes, because you and your friends have an odd obsession with color-coding things,” the orc says with mirth.

Glib visibly pouts. “I want something for it, it’s only fair.”

“Name your price, anything you want will be yours,” Skog agrees easily.

Glib pretends to think as he tilts his head to the side, his shaggy brown hair cascading into his eyes, creating a halo effect as the early morning sun reflects perfectly off the strands. “Hmm, how about kisses?” he suggests.

“How many?” Skog, ever the businessmen, asks, leaning forward.

“Until I’m sick of them,” Glib says simply. “Have we got a deal, lover boy?”

“Certainly,” the orc says before leaning forward and kissing Glib soft and sweet.

It's not the first time they’ve shared a kiss, not by a long shot, nor is it the first time they’ve kissed like this. Just slow, lazy kisses that come from knowing that it’s a Sunday morning and they have all the time in the world.

After a minute of this, Glib seems to get bored as he tilts his head forward and licks into Skog’s mouth. The orc lets him as he thumbs at the fabric of the human’s shirt. The smaller licks through every inch of the orc's mouth, kissing the air right from his lungs until he pulls back, just barely panting with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Sick of them yet?” Skog teases.

Glib kisses him again, this time closed mouth. “Never,” he whispers but wiggles as he stands up anyway. “But if I sit here and kiss you much longer, I might burn the kitchen down.”

Skog hums. “Yes, that would be quite bad,” he agrees, his hands still lingering on Glib’s hips. The human laughs and gives him a quick peck before strolling into the kitchen.

The orc grins to himself as he watches his human walk back into the kitchen, swaying his hips as he goes. It's not until Skog has picked up his newspaper that he realizes he’s missing something.

Glib leans back around the corner as he cheekily grins. “Missin’ something?” He asks before showing the blue jolly rancher between his teeth.

“Why you little-” Skog growls playfully before launching himself out of his seat and diving for Glib who ducks back into the kitchen.

“If you want it, come get it!” Glib calls, turning off the stove as he runs into the hall that is on the other side of the kitchen, skidding around a corner as 270 pounds of orc charges him, laughter filling the otherwise quiet house on this peaceful Sunday morning.

[boyslit]

Ficwip's WIP Wednesday: Impress

found a few snips from the twst exorcist isekai au. goofy, bleak and kinda cute

[Grim and Zephyr's meet-annoying]

“Hey! I ain’t no weasel. Hurry up and give me your uniform!”

Zephyr sat up, glaring and reaching for the silver dagger at his belt. “No demon will make use of the noble uniform of the Exorcists. Prepare yourself for annihilation.”

The weasel’s eyes popped open comically wide. “Hey, wait! What? I ain’t no demon, I’m Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire! Where the heck do you think you are anyway? Demons don’t exist!”

It was Zephyr’s turn to look startled. “Don’t exist? How can you say that? The Nightmare God’s minions have besieged us for countless centuries!”

The weasel looked unimpressed and folded its arms over its fuzzy chest. “You were havin’ one hell of a dream, weren’tcha? Listen, wake up already, I said I want those robes. You’re clearly not New Raven College material, so you’re better off giving them to me.”

--

[Lunch with ADeuce and existential ruminating]

Zephyr's face became more pensive. "Of course, none of this could be real at all."

Ace and Deuce exchanged a look. Grim rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"Not what again?"

"Should we be encouraging this…?" Deuce whispered.

"Shh, I wanna hear this," Ace whispered back. "I wasn't expecting shonen anime theater with lunch."

"The worst-case scenario is that I've been possessed, and all of this," Zephyr said, waving his hands around to indicate the entirety of their environment, "is the thrall-dream the demon has trapped me in, and it will end when it has finished devouring my soul. After that, it will wear my body to either attack or trick other humans and further its master's goals."

Ace and Deuce stared at him from across the table. Grim continued inhaling his dessert at an alarming rate. He'd already heard all this and wasn't impressed with the story.

"Dude, that's fucking bleak as hell," Ace said.

"Is there a best-case scenario?" Deuce ventured warily, eyeing his sandwich as if he was unsure he still had the stomach for it.

Zephyr nodded, polishing off the last of the noodle dish in front of him. "Best case is that I was killed where no demon could lay claim to my soul, and it ascended to the realm of Aroth, meaning all of this," he waved his hand again, "is actually part of the Golden Dream, and I no longer have to worry about demons, so I can actually focus on working and helping Grim study without fear."

The two Heartslabyul students shared a glance. Ace laughed. "Wouldn't the best-case scenario be that you just managed to get transported from a super fucking scary world full of demons into a world that doesn't have any of that?"

--

[good ending reunion in town]

After they settle a bit, Finch pats the back of his cape. "Man… did you really go out of your way to make a replica uniform?"

Zephyr grins. "It’s familiar, and fashion-forward here. Plus, Sebek thinks it's dashing."

Finch glanced over his shoulder at the green-hair fellow standing awkwardly aside. "I'm sure it's not just the uniform but… you've always worn it well." Finch shrugged, and patted his shoulder before getting to their feet. "Gonna introduce me to your sweetheart?”

"Finch!" Pink blossomed on Zeph's cheeks. "He's just a friend yet," he hissed. Finch grinned. "Yet," they mouthed. Zephyr frowned at them and turned to motion at Sebek. "Sebek, this is Finch, my oldest friend and cradle-mate. Finch Corrigan, may I present Sebek Zigvolt of Briar Valley, sworn bodyguard of Prince Malleus Draconia."

There was a flash of pride and happiness in Sebek's reptilian eyes, hearing Zephyr go out of his way to introduce him in such a manner. He'd expected to be introduced in name only.

Finch reached out a hand for shaking, surprised when Sebek extended his own hand and gripped it firmly. "Well met, Finch Corrigan."

"Likewise. I expect you've been looking after Zeph here too, if he's this fond of you."

Zeph put a hand over his face, blushing more at the mention of his feelings, but Sebek seemed to move right on past it.

"Of course! A friend of my Lord's is also worthy of being protected. Although, Zephyr does hold his own impressively in a fight, and more so since he's been training with us,” Sebek said decisively, arms crossed over his chest with a look of smug pride on his face.

"Oh, you've been training together, huh?" Finch gave Zephyr a sly look. "That's pretty cool. I imagine it's a lot less awful than lessons with old Fenweald."

Zephyr snorted. "I'd love to see them knock him down a…peg…" Their faces sobered as they realized old Fenweald had been taken down for good. "Nevermind. Anyway, we were headed to the smith's. You?"

"Got some shopping to do for Lana, she's out on business today or I'd take you back home to see her."

"Ah. Well, maybe another time. Have you got a phone yet? I can give you my frequency and we can arrange something."

"They don't call it that here, you ancient fuster," Finch said with a grin, pulling a slim mobile from their pocket. "Give me your number, yeah? I'll give you a call later when Lana's back."

After another bone crushing hug they part ways and Zephyr and Sebek head for the smithy.

[squishdraws]

im got new tablet :)

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[huntergatherercreator]

Could you do a mob Tom Holland reacting to the reader where the reader is over working herself lately and forgets to sleep, eat and stay hydrated properly and that sort of stuff. So, when they're busy stalking her they see that she left her front door open and she's literally collapsed on the floor out of exhaustion and started to sleep there? Fun fact: That might end up being me by tomorrow or after 2 days approx.

Hey lovey, thank you so much for the request! I know it's taken me a couple of days to get around to writing this so hopefully you've had a lovely rest and some downtime to reset after being so busy. I do feel slightly called out by this request if I'm honest because, same. Just remember to be nice to yourself, your body can handle a lot but it needs a little looking after too. Drink your water, have lots of yummy snacks, and most importantly have a nice long sleep!

I hope this is close to what you were after.

Stay safe and take care 💜💜

-------

1,339 words

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you stumbled to your door. It was well past nine, you’d only meant to stay an extra hour at work but, like it had for the past three days, the time had got away from you. Every time you’d made to leave there was another issue, another customer, another delivery. Before you’d even realised it you’d worked almost double your shifted hours each day and you be lying if you said you weren’t feeling it now. Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you fought with the lock. Stepping into the hallway you gratefully dropped your bag and fished it out.

‘Why are you only getting home now’ the message read. Then a second later ‘Have you eaten yet?’

Shoulders slumping you pushed the door closed and flicked on the light. You didn’t know how to respond to him. He didn’t normally message to check up on you like that but you didn’t blame him for worrying, or resorting to spying on you. You’d barely had the energy to write back more than one word answers to him, and that was if you got five minutes alone to actually check your phone. As you re-read his words your stomach churned with hunger. You hadn’t eaten yet. After a second you realised you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a drink of anything either. Scrubbing a hand over your face you sat heavily on the bottom step. The intention of kicking off your shoes evaporated as your legs stretched out in front of you and relief flowed through them. Resting your shoulder against the wall you stared past your phone, eyes zoning out as you tried to think of what to say to him. You just needed a second to think. Smothering a yawn your eyes fluttered closed. Just a small second and then you’d let him know you were OK...

***

Tom stared at his phone. It had been twenty minutes since he’d text you. It wasn’t like you to not respond, or to be getting home this late constantly. You’d waved him off with reassurances that you were just busy with work but something about the situation wasn’t sitting right with him. Dialling your phone it rang out and disconnected, unanswered. He knew he shouldn’t doubt you. You were too good a person to lie to him, let alone go behind his back and hide something, but the evasive way you’d been acting had him unsettled.

Standing he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. The man speaking faltered and cleared his throat. Tom levelled him a look, daring him to question his actions. If he wanted to walk out of a business meeting he damn well would. Buttoning his jacket he pointedly made eye contact with the other twelve men at the table. When no-one spoke he clapped a hand on his brothers shoulder and stalked from the room.

His chauffeur drove him to your house as fast as the traffic would allow. He called you again. Twice. Three times. Growling a profanity he pulled up the tracker app he’d installed on your phone and checked the location again. It still said you were at home. A chill crept in as an errant thought slid into his mind. What if you weren’t alone? Shaking it off, he shoved the phone into his pocket and impatiently waited as the car turned into your street. He had the door open before the car had properly slowed.

Shoving the gate open he hesitated as he took in the dark windows. The only light was in the hallway. Reaching into his jacket his fingers brushed against the cool metal of his gun as unease swirled in his gut.

Trying the door his breath caught as he realised it was unlocked. Hand tightening on his weapon he gently nudged it open until he caught sight of you stretched out on the stairs. For a second his heart constricted, stomach plummeting as he took in how still you were. Then you huffed a sleepy breath and shifted to get more comfortable.

Dragging a hand through his curls he let out a long breath before laughing softly. He was an idiot. The shock of thinking you were unconscious, or worse, felt like a kick from karma for ever doubting you. Watching you so deeply asleep, still wrapped in your jacket, he knew he’d made a mistake by not checking up on you sooner.

Shutting the door quietly he flipped the lock. Kneeling down he slipped off your shoes, tucking them neatly on the rack before winding his arms around you. Lifting you easily he cradled you close as he carried you up the stairs to your bedroom. Toeing the door open he left the light off and wound his way to your side of the bed. As he lay you on top of the duvet you jolted, suddenly wide awake.

***

A startled yelp left you as a dark figure loomed over the bed. Hands flying up to ward them off you caught them hard in the gut. A whoosh of air left them along with a groan.

“Y/N, it’s me.” Tom’s voice broke through the sleep fog still clinging to you.

“Are you OK?” Pushing yourself up your hands fluttered around him, not sure where was safe to touch him. His fingers caught yours, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles.

“I should be asking you that.” The bed shifted as he settled on the edge. In the darkness you could barely see him but you could feel his gaze boring into you.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled biting back a yawn.

“You passed out in the hallway,” he admonished. “You’ve clearly not been taking care of yourself.”

Fingers going limp in his hold you dropped your head guiltily. He wasn’t wrong. You had pushed yourself too far this time.

The bedside lamp flared to life, searing your eyes for a second until they adjusted. When you found the courage to look up he was watching you with pensive stare. You knew what he must be thinking. You were a mess. A huge contrast to him in every way. Where your hair was a mess from rushing about all day, his was perfectly dishevelled. Your clothes were rumpled from being hastily thrown on this morning and his suit was crisp and sharp even after a full day of work.

“I guess I’m just going to have to take care of you.” He said it with a straight face but you flushed at the double meaning.

“You don’t have to do that, Tom. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do tonight.”

“None more important than you.” His lips quirked when you stared dumbly at him. Shrugging out of his coat he dropped it at the end of the bed and undid his cufflinks.

“Are you hungry, baby?” Your throat dried up as you watched him roll up his sleeves. When you didn’t answer he raised an eyebrow, hands going to his hips.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Good.” He crossed to your dresser and pulled out your favourite pyjamas. “Put these on, and get under the covers.” Taking the empty glass from your bedside table he disappeared for a minute before returning with it filled to the brim with water.

“I want this gone by the time I get back,” he ordered.

“Where are you going?” you asked, suddenly worried.

Cupping your face he kissed your forehead. “Relax. I’m going to make you something to eat.”

Slumping back against the cushions you smiled up at him.

“I can’t wait to see that,” you teased. He’d never personally made you anything before. Everything usually came straight from his personal chef, or a nearby restaurant.

“If you don’t get changed and drink your water you won’t get anything,” he warned.

Your stomach growled loudly in protest.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you,” he promised.

-------

Taglist: @rosie-posie08 @woahmrstark

[fanficimagery]

When Enough is Enough pt. II

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 8.5K Author’s Note: Okay so some of you asked to only be added to part 2 of this while others asked to be added everything Bucky.. and a few others weren’t exactly clear. So if you want to be tagged in any future Bucky related imagines please let me know so I can get your blog name written down on my list.

Tags:  @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination  @mimilh @felicityofbakerstreet @eternalharry @eliwinchester99 @intothesoul​ @wintershadowkat  @b1sexualtonystark  @meredeph @miszswan

The Sunday before you are to return to work, you sleep in until nine in the morning. Your thoughts are immediately on Bucky's impending arrival and you couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach. He's a friend, just as all the others are, but you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this new friend of yours is. But not only does his attractiveness draw you in, his easy-going teasing and protectiveness does too. However, Bucky Barnes is still a man trying to find his footing in this world after all that's been done to him and finally getting his name cleared, and if he finds comfort with you then you're going to try your best and be the friend he needs.

So since you're not dressing to impress, you dress in your favorite lazy outfit after your shower- leggings, sports bra, a faded sleeveless band tee with the arm holes having been cut down to around your ribs, and a pair of socks. Damp hair gets gathered up into a messy bun and you walk around your apartment to pick up some things you had unknowingly left out.

You've skipped breakfast, so when there's a knock on your door and you open up to find Bucky standing there, you groan in relief. He raises both hands with paper bags hanging from each. "I come bearing sushi. Wanda let it slip how much you love it."

"Yesss." You step back, quickly taking in his own comfort outfit of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt under an opened jacket. "Did you bring plenty of wasabi? And you can just kick off your shoes anywhere."

"Of course." He hands you the bags so he can kick off his shoes and strip out of his jacket before hanging it up. You don't know why, but seeing him in a short sleeve shirt makes you happy, knowing full well he was weird about his metal arm being out in the open. "And plenty of dipping sauce as well. Wanda was more than happy to give me advice."

"Wanda, huh?" You chuckle, leading the way to your kitchen. "You actually told her where'd you be?"

"Apparently I looked very pensive this morning. She asked and I figured she was a better confidant than Steve or Sam who would have made a big deal about us hanging out."

"True." Setting the bags down, you let him empty them while you head to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Grabbing him a beer and yourself a can of Cola, you return to the table and your eyes widen at the sight of all the sushi. "Damn, Barnes. That's a lot of sushi."

"Don't act like you won't eat half of it."

You laugh as you take a seat, handing him his beer and pulling a few trays to your side of the table. You take a container of wasabi and dipping sauce for yourself, and grab a pair of chopsticks to start digging in.

You moan in delight at your first taste, happily shimmying in your seat before taking another. Eventually, you ask, "So what are you going to do when I'm back at work and I can't keep you entertained by getting shitfaced?"

Bucky grins around his mouthful of food before chasing it down with a swig of his beer. "We actually got a mission comin' up so I'll be leavin' around mid-week."

"Well that sucks." You sigh. "Now who am I going to send random pictures to when I have downtime at work?"

He grins. "You can still send them to me. I just won't get back to you until after the mission's complete."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you continue to eat- Bucky dodging Steve's texts about where he is and when he's coming back, and you sending the middle finger emoji over and over to Wanda who keeps wondering how your date is going. Then once most of the sushi is gone and Bucky puts what little is left into the fridge, the two of you head to the living room. You immediately flop onto the couch as Bucky takes the plush recliner, only for you to hear him moving the chair into its reclined position seconds later.

"Oh. I definitely need to get one of these."

You laugh as he snuggles down and you pick up the remote to bring up your streaming services. "Anything you've been meaning to watch?"

"Not really. Just show me your favorites."

You start off with some humor by playing the Goonies. It's a movie that no matter how many times you've seen it, it always seems to make you laugh. And it seems Bucky is not immune either when they make Chunk to the truffle shuffle. Titanic plays afterwards, but only after making sure Bucky found it somewhat interesting after reading the movie summary to him. He is interested from beginning to end and doesn't even laugh at you when you shed a few tears for the old married couple who opt to stay in their bed as the room floods.

When a break is needed, you head off towards the bathroom as Bucky finishes off the leftover sushi. Both of you check your phones and read each other the missed text messages from Steve and his worrying behavior.

"Wanna tell Steve to fuck off via video message?" Bucky takes a moment to think on it before he grins and nods. "Excellent. Sit in the recliner. I'm gonna crawl up all in your business. That okay?"

"Yeah."

As Bucky gets comfortable in the recliner, you sit on the armrest before sliding down sideways onto his lap. You bring up the camera app on your phone and switch it to video, sliding your right arm behind Bucky's neck while holding your left arm out to capture the two of you on the screen. "Ready?"

"Sure, doll."

You chuckle quietly and then smirk mischievously as Bucky relaxes his expression into his best resting bitch face. After you hit record, you say, "Hey Rogers, stop being a little bitch and sending us text after text. I'm tryin' to fuck your best friend here." Bucky's expression cracks as he barks out a laugh and you turn to face him while grinning. You share a laugh with him before facing the camera once more. "Only joking, but seriously stop buggin' us. I promise to send him back in one piece."

As you prepare to send the text to Steve, Bucky says, "You're terrible."

"Whatever. Admit it, you adore me."

"Occasionally."

You huff another laugh as the video message finally sends. You and Bucky both watch as the delivered status turns to read, and then those three little dots appear as Steve starts typing his reply.

"Tell Bucky to wrap it before he taps it." You burst out laughing at Steve's text, Bucky's rumbling laughter only fueling yours even more. "God I hate your best friend sometimes." And before you climb off Bucky's lap, because honestly you were getting a little too comfortable, you send Steve a few middle finger emojis before deciding on a third movie to watch.

The third movie you choose is one that never fails to make you laugh- Bridesmaids. You had a moment of hesitancy because of the sex scenes, but you figured they were ridiculous enough that it wouldn't be awkward. Thankfully you're correct and you get the added bonus of hearing Bucky's laughter again during Megan's scenes, especially when they get food poisoning and are all fighting for the bathroom.

You and Bucky take yet another break after the film, just stretching and finding something to drink.

"So what's the verdict, Barnes? Are you enjoying the films?"

He grins. "Your taste is all over the place, huh? That last one we watched was raunchy."

"But hilarious! You need to watch the Hangover trilogy, but you definitely need to watch that with Steve and then watch him squirm at the pictures that roll with the credits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jurassic Park holds his attention and he can't help but comment how stupid one has to be to replicate dinosaur DNA and then open up a park with live dinosaurs. You laugh, but don't bother commenting. You'll tell him later there are more movies involved, with yet another idiotic man who felt he could get the park up and running once more.

It's getting dark, but it's still a little too early for dinner. One more movie and then you'll order or go out and pick something up.

"So this last one for the day is a movie that's directed more towards the female viewers, but you did ask for my favorite films and Practical Magic is my absolute favorite."

"Well put it on, doll."

As you press play on Practical Magic, you quickly grab a throw blanket and snuggle in. Instead of watching Bucky, you watch the film and mumble certain quotes to yourself. The magic scenes always bring a soft smile to your face just as Gary's confession to Sally of I wished for you too breaks your heart, and Sally and Gillian's heartfelt sister moment makes you cry.

Afterwards, Bucky hums in thought. "So that's your favorite?"

"Absolutely." You tell him. He's watching you curiously and you grin. "If I show you something, you promise not to laugh?"

"I'll try."

"Whatever. That's good enough for me." Standing up, you walk towards him and kneel, and tell him to pull your shirt sideways by the armhole next to your left arm. There on the back of your left shoulder and forever etched into your skin is a salt shaker, a rosemary plant, a lavender plant, and a heart. You then rattle off one of your favorite quotes to him. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

Bucky chuckles as you get up, retaking your spot on the sofa. "You really are a fan of the movie."

You nod. "As a little girl, I was fascinated by magic. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I only grew more fond of it. And then I found Practical Magic and it had a bit of everything I adored."

"So what's the one scene that just gets you every time?"

"Ugh. You're making me choose?!" You feign being distraught and he grins. As you think about it, you keep coming back to two scenes in particular. "So there's two," you tell him, "and I'm not choosing between them." Bucky nods, awaiting your answer. "Gillian's possession. When Sally calls together the other mothers who were mean to her in order to make a temporary coven to save her sister, and Gillian begs Sally to just let her ghost ex have her."

Bucky hums. "That was a bit sad, doll. I saw you shedding a few tears over that."

"Mhm. And the other scene is when Sally comes clean to Gary and admits that she did a spell as a child to call forth her perfect love thinking it wouldn't exist, only it did. When Gary tells Sally that he wished for her too, it just breaks my fuckin' heart."

"Let me guess, you were one of the girls who cast her own spell after seeing that scene." You stay quiet for a moment and the second you feel your face heat, Bucky laughs. "What did you wish for?"

You groan quietly. "If I tell you, you can't laugh!" He only smiles in response and you know he won't drop it until you tell him. "Fine. So even though I knew it would never work, I gathered the weirdest objects and wished for a significant other with dark hair and colored eyes. He had to be protective and funny and love me for me. Simple."

For some reason you can't seem to meet Bucky's gaze then and you feel awkward the longer the silence stretches on.

"So dinner?" He asks.

"Oh god, yes please. Pizza and wings?"

"Sounds good."

You have the nearby pizza place on speed dial, so after finding out Bucky's preferences you make the call and place the order. It's going to be about a thirty minute wait, so you fill the time sending Steve pic after pic of Bucky who's none the wiser as he scrolls through his own phone and adding the most asinine comments to each picture. Steve thinks it's absolutely hilarious.

Then when the pizza and wings arrive, you beat Bucky to the door and thrust several bills at the delivery boy. He's more than happy with his tip and you hurriedly wave him off before shutting the door. You laugh at Bucky's disgruntled expression and then place everything on the table while gathering a beer for both you and him.

"Don't let me have more than two," you tell him while handing him his own bottle of beer.

Bucky agrees and the two of you dig into your own personal pizzas and boxes of wings once you're situated around the table. As you're eating, Bucky asks about what other movies you hold near and dear. You fill him in on a few others and he hesitantly puts it out there that he'd be up for another movie marathon when you both have a day off. You agree that that's doable.

Halfway through dinner, as you and Bucky are chuckling over the thought of making Steve sit through Bridesmaids, there's a sound of glass breaking from your living room and a muffled curse. The two of you immediately cease making any type of noise and Bucky is up with a gun in hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?! You hiss.

The telltale sound of a window then sliding shut can be heard.

"Shut up and get behind me."

The authority in his voice makes you freeze and your heart flutter at the same time, and you have to mentally scold yourself before you quickly do as he says. You follow Bucky towards the living, ready to duck at the ready, only to sigh and roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bucky stands tall and lowers his gun. "Parker." You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Mr. Barnes?" Peeking around his shoulder, you raise your eyebrow at your best friend who's been too busy for you and is now frowning at Bucky. When he catches sight of you, he asks, "What's going on?"

"Uh, well we were having dinner until we thought someone was breaking in."

"Alone?!"

Your brow furrows at Peter's incredulousness, only for him to realize you're not impressed with his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, um, yeah." He shifts from foot to foot, gesturing to his face where there's a scrape on his cheekbone. "My ribs took a beating too. Can you patch me up?"

"Sure." You sigh. "Why not."

Before you can leave to go to the bathroom to get the supplies you need, Bucky says, "I'll just get out of your way then."

You stop and face him. "What? But we haven't even finished our food. It won't take me long."

"It's fine, doll." He grins when he realizes you're trying to get him to stay. "You gotta hit the hay early anyway. We'll talk soon."

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, sighing when he won't budge. "Well at least take your food with you. No use in it going to waste."

Bucky nods and heads back to the kitchen, collecting his food. You watch him and then follow him to the door, holding his food while he bends over to lace up his boots. Once he retakes his food and you open the door, he thanks you for the time away from the tower and disappears down the hall.

Shutting the door and then heading back into the living room, you tell Peter to get back into his regular clothes so you can get to his ribs while you go gather your medical supplies.

Meeting Peter back in the living room and setting everything down on the coffee table, he says, "So you and Bucky-"

"Don't." You pick up the peroxide bottle and soak a cotton ball in it. "Bucky and I are friends."

Peter manages to keep his mouth shut as you clean the scrape on his cheek and place a small bandage on it. Then when you've checked his ribs and tell him he just needs to ice them, he mumbles, "Friends who apparently lick each other." You snort and think nothing of his sullen tone, but when you look at his face you see he's actually being quite serious. There's no chuckle or boyish grin and for a moment you're absolutely floored at his attitude. "I don't think I'm comfortable with Bucky being alone with you in your apartment."

"Are you- are you kidding me?" You huff and take a step back from him. When Peter just continues to frown, you shake your head at him. "First of all, I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not finished!" You snap. Peter's eyes widen, but he smartly ceases talking. "I am allowed to have friends whether you like them or not. We have a pact, Petey, and since I'm still abiding by it I would hope that you would too."

"Yeah, but that's for significant others!"

"Significant others or friends, it doesn't matter. And you should be grateful I've kept my mouth shut when it comes to you and Leslie because let me tell you, I've been biting my tongue a lot these past few weeks. Bucky and the others have stepped up since you've abandoned me, so you have absolutely no room to tell me that you're uncomfortable with him or any of them being around me."

"Leslie isn't that bad and I have not abandoned you." You snort, but don't bother opening that can of worms even further. He finally gets annoyed with your quietness. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you needed a bandage. Tell me, Peter, where are you going after here? Where are you going after making five minutes of small talk and calling it a night?" He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, shrugs, and you shake your head at him once more in disappointment. "Exactly. Just go, Peter. I'm so over this conversation right now and I have work in the morning."

"Wait, but we promised we'd never leave a conversation where we were still annoyed with each other!"

"And we also promised we'd never judge who the other decided to spend time with, but here we are." He frowns at you. "Go to your girlfriend, Peter. We'll talk again in another few days or weeks or whenever. I don't care right now."

Peter stands there, gaping, before he pulls himself together and makes his way back towards the window he had crawled through. He glances at you one last time, but you merely keep staring until his mask encompasses his head once more and he lifts the window before taking his leave.

As the window shuts behind him, you sag in on yourself and your breathing stutters in your chest as your eyes fill with tears. You've never been this angry at Peter and the fact that he thinks it's okay to ignore you until he needs something and then has an opinion about who you hang out with was just too much for you to let slide.

You quickly gather everything from your coffee table and return it to its rightful place in your bathroom, and throw away the trash. Your appetite is long gone, so you put up what's left of your food and then head to your room to gather some clothes so you can shower and get into bed.

By the time you've crawled into bed, you're still a bit annoyed. So grabbing your phone, you pull up your text messages and click on Bucky's thread.

To Bucky: Well that was a shit show. I don't think I've ever made Petey leave my apartment while we were still angry with each other.

From Bucky: I'm sorry, doll. Anything I can do?

To Bucky: If he gives you attitude, get a non-serum individual to punch him. You, Steve, and probably Nat will send him flying into the wall.

From Bucky: If I remember..

To Bucky: Well I mean if you forget, I won't complain. I'll probably laugh when he comes crying to me.

From Bucky: You're a terrible human being.

To Bucky: Whatever. You adore me just the way I am. And now I should get some shut eye. I'll talk to you soon. Night, Sarge.

From Bucky: Night, sweetheart.

For the next couple of weeks, you keep yourself busy with work. Bucky and a few others do go on a mission as he said they would, so you keep your texts to a minimum of three each day- a good morning, a random story from that day, and a good night. They're gone for four days and in those four days you've not heard from Peter. The only reason you know he's not completely done with you is the fact he likes your posts that you put up on social media.

But since you're not currently speaking to your best friend and are too exhausted to hang out with anyone else, you're in a bit of a funk and completely caught off guard one evening when the patient a police officer brings in smacks you right across the face. You had been trying to insert an IV into his arm when he completely lost his shit, and then you were hit so hard that you were strewn across the gurney behind you. And in your vulnerable position, a fistful of your hair had been grabbed and yanked right before the police officer had intervened and pulled the patient off of you.

You had been given a bit of time to ice your cheek before you had to get back to work, but your face and scalp were hurting you the entire time.

On your way home, however, you're surprised to receive a call from Pepper. You're heading towards your apartment complex when she invites you to dinner there at the tower since Darcy is finally back in town, and you hate to do it, but you're not exactly up to be around such a rowdy bunch. So you apologize to Pepper and ask her to apologize to Darcy for you, and take a rain check. Immediately she knows something is wrong, but you only tell her you had a rough night at work and all you want is a hot shower and to crawl into bed. She hesitates but wishes you well, and the call ends moments later.

When you get home, you waste no time in locking the door behind you and heading straight for your bathroom. You strip down and take the hottest shower your body is capable of handling, and let yourself relax in the steam-filled room. Afterwards, as you're drying off, you gently dry your hair since your scalp is still sensitive and then get dressed in some of your comfort clothes.

Then heading out into the kitchen, you find some leftovers in your fridge and heat those up, tiredly sitting at your kitchen table and digging in. Just as you're done with your food and heading towards the living room, someone pounds on your apartment door. You sigh, hoping they go away, and have only plopped down onto the sofa when a familiar gruff voice speaks through the wood.

You quietly groan as Bucky tells you he knows you're there and you get up to open the door for him. He's on the verge of knocking again when you swing the door open. "Hey. Pepper said-" He trails off as he takes in your appearance, expression going slack before his jaw clenches in anger. "Who?"

You shake your head, gesturing him inside as you turn around and walk towards your sofa. You hear your door click shut before the footsteps follow you. "Work got a little hectic. No need to hunt down anyone, Barnes. I'm fine."

"Half your face is bruised, doll. You are not fine."

"It's all part of my job." You shrug and plop down onto the sofa once more. Pulling a blanket over your lap, you stare up at your friend. "There will always be a drunk and disorderly patient. I was just lucky he didn't do more damage."

Bucky frowns, but he doesn't push you on it. Instead, he walks over and sits next to you, angling his body towards yours when gentle fingers grasp your chin to angle your face more towards him. "What exactly happened?" He asks as his eyes dart over every inch of your face.

"Some petty criminal did some damage to his head in the back of a patrol car. Police officer brought him in and he seemed pretty docile up until I jabbed him with the IV. He got the drop on me. It happens." Gentle fingers brush along your cheekbone and you flinch. Tears sting your eyes as you sniffle. "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep sayin' that doesn't mean it's true."

Your bottom lip wobbles at his words and you lose the battle with keeping the tears at bay. The moment they fall, Bucky pulls you into a hug and you cry into his shoulder. "Dammit," you mumble. "See what you started!"

Bucky chuckles and he holds you a few moments longer, rubbing a hand up and your back to offer a semblance of comfort. When he lets you go, you fall back against the sofa cushions and wipe the tears away with your blanket. "So what are we watching?" He asks while settling in next to you and draping an arm behind your head.

"Shouldn't you go back to the tower and have dinner with the rest of them? I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I will drag you back to the tower and let Steve motherhen you."

You sigh. "Low blow, Buckaroo."

"And for that horrendous nickname, you've lost the privilege of choosing what we're going to watch."

You laugh and don't bother arguing with him about it as he leans across you to snag up the remote. When he settles back down and you snuggle into his side, you huff a small laugh when he settles on TLC which is showing 90 Day Fiancé.

"Why this show?" You ask.

"Because it blows my mind that some people are so oblivious and can't see that their chosen partner is only in it for the green card."

As you let his reasoning sink in, you can't help but giggle as you picture Bucky sitting in his own apartment and bad mouthing the TV because he didn't like the decisions the people were making in their love life. You watch along with him, cringing at the more obvious couples that are only headed for future divorce and smiling when one of the couples is actually in it for love.

You manage to almost watch a complete two hour episode when there's a knock on your door, but you're too comfortable to get up and answer it.

"You get it," you say as you nudge Bucky.

He nudges you back. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like getting up."

"You could have at least come up with a better excuse."

You grin, finally taking your eyes off the screen and glancing up at Bucky. "M'too tired. Brain's not working fast enough." He continues to give you a deadpan stare until you jut out your bottom lip. "Please?"

The second Bucky's lips twitch, you know you've won. He huffs and roughly pushes himself up off the sofa as if answering the door is a hardship, and you go back to watching TV. At least until you hear a familiar voice stammer, "Uh, h-hey Mr. Barnes. Is Y/N home?"

Your gaze snaps towards the door where Peter is standing out in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he sheepishly stares at Bucky. The man in question turns and raises an eyebrow at you as if saying what do I do and you give him a terse nod to let him know it's okay. Bucky steps aside and Peter readily walks in.

"I should be getting back to the tower," Bucky suddenly says. "You kids have fun."

This time it's your turn to give him a deadpan stare and he smirks right before slipping his boots back on. Then as soon as they're laced up, he's walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Peter, who hadn't stopped staring at the intimidating man, finally turns to look at you. And when he does, his eyes widen.

"What happened to your face?!"

You sigh. "I'm fine. Just had a little incident at work."

"And Mr. Barnes was what? Comforting you?"

"First of all, can you stop calling him Mr. Barnes? You two avenge together and what not. I'm pretty sure that means you're on a first name basis." Peter grins as he takes a seat on the recliner near you, shrugging. "And Bucky was here because when I turned down dinner at the tower, Pepper figured something was wrong. Bucky took it upon himself to check in."

"So are you two like a thing or something?" He wonders.

"We're just.. friends," you say. "For some unknown reason we clicked and we're comfortable in each other's company."

For a moment Peter doesn't say anything, nor will he meet your gaze, but then he's looking at you and sighing. "I'm sorry." You blink at him, surprised to hear the apology. "I shouldn't have freaked out that one night. Who you are friends with and who you decide to date is your business."

You finally smile, even though it's rather small. "Thank you. And don't get me wrong, I know you meant well, but you should have dropped it and just trusted my judgment."

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

"Soo.. are we good?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was getting tired of you liking my posts and not commenting on them."

Peter snorts. A moment of silence passes and then he says, "So you'll be glad to know that Leslie and I aren't together anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

You wince. "Sorry."

"Nah. Don't be. She was totally using me for access to the tower." You're torn between being smug about being right and being sad for your friend who just ended his relationship. "I only realized it earlier when she got upset because Mr. Rogers posted a picture of you and Mr. Barnes together, and she had a few choice words to say about it."

"What? Steve posted a picture of us?" You quickly pull out your phone, checking social media for any notifications. There are none, but as you get on Instagram you check Steve's page and sure enough there's a new pic that shows Bucky staring fondly at you as you laugh at something on your phone. "That little shit didn't tag us!"

As your thumbs move furiously to give Steve a piece of your mind and to comment how adorable you and Bucky look, Peter can't help but say, "You're attracted to him."

Your texting falters and you quickly glance at your friend to gauge his reaction, but when he just looks amused, you shrug. "I mean have you seen him? How could I not be attracted to him?"

"Does he know?"

"I have a feeling he does. Asshole likes to fluster me every now and then."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he likes you back." You snort and go back to finishing up the comment on Steve's post. "I'm serious. When we stopped talking, he threatened me. He was pissed that I made you cry and said I was lucky. He's actually really scary when you're on his bad side."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you can feel your ears heating up, followed by your cheeks. Peter starts to laugh and you groan in embarrassment. "Why is this so weird? Dating should be easy!"

"Well he is an Avenger.."

"I don't care about that! He's just- he's really, really hot. It's intimidating."

"Wait, what?" Peter huffs. "So you're intimidated by his hotness and not because he's a super-soldier with a metal arm?"

"Well yeah."

Expression melting into one of confusion, your friend eventually shakes his head at you. "You're on your own with that. Good luck."

You hadn't realized how much everyone had known about your and Peter's brief falling out until the two of you were laughing together once again at the tower. It seemed like everyone had sagged in relief now that the two of you were poking fun at one another once more, and you had to apologize for apparently making it awkward for them.

And now that your best friend knew of your crush on a certain super-soldier, there was lots of teasing material. Of course you kept him in line when you could, but there was no stopping the force of Peter, Wanda, and Darcy combined.

It's a random Tuesday night when you've driven over to the Tower, Bucky having called you over for dinner with a few friends. You had the day off so you didn't mind heading on over, but as the elevator doors slide open after having ridden up to the communal floor, you yelp in surprise as the small gathered crows that shout, "Happy birthday!", at you.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Peter pop confetti poppers as you step out of the elevator, eyes wide as you glance between each of them. "My birthday is not until tomorrow!" You hiss.

"But you work tomorrow." Wanda frowns.

"Mhm." Your eyes then narrow, glancing behind them at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling. "And how'd you guys even know?"

Everyone glances at Peter and he takes a step back when your gaze slides to him. He chuckles sheepishly. "I might have hid your birthday cupcake here and Steve found it."

"Petey," you groan. "Why couldn't you just hide it at aunt May's like usual? You know I dislike birthday celebrations."

"You don't dislike them. You just dislike all the attention being on you."

"Whatever. Where's Barnes? He's the one who lured me here under false pretenses. I got a bone to pick with him too."

Everyone turns around and Bucky's head appears from around the corner. He smirks and you glare at him. "Not false pretenses. We are having dinner," he says. "It just so happens to be a birthday dinner. And it's running a little bit late, so until the food gets here you get to open presents."

"You guys all suck."

Peter and Wanda each take a hand and drag you further into the room, heading towards the kitchen. Bucky fully steps out from behind the wall and you aim a kick at his shin as you're walking by. He laughs as he easily dodges it and then you're standing by the kitchen island that's been cleared of everything other than birthday presents.

You huff a small laugh and shake your head fondly at them. "I love you guys, but you do know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Shut up and open the presents," Bucky says.

"Open mine first," Sam says, reaching into the small pile and pulling out a white envelope. "Unlike the others, I was literally told within the last thirty minutes we were doing this so yeah. It's not the best present, but I think you'll enjoy it."

You smile at Sam as you open it, chuckling at the plain birthday card and his brief personal message written inside. But it's what else that's inside that makes you meet Sam's gaze once more, smiling fondly at him. "Thank you. I can't get enough of bubble tea and I'm sure I can do some damage with this gift card."

"You're welcome."

"Mine next." Peter reaches in for a medium-sized box and hands it over to you. "I know you're not a fan of presents, so I got you something I actually knew you'd enjoy."

Raising an eyebrow at him, you pull the lid off of the box. Then glancing down, you snort before pulling out a bottle of Patron Silver Tequila. "I knew we were best friends for a reason."

Steve groans. "Please drink responsibly."

"Please. Responsible is my middle name, Rogers." Everyone snorts and instead of trying to remain serious and feign offense, you end up laughing. "Sam and Buck are good babysitters. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's to be determined," he says. "Here. Open mine. I honestly had no idea what to get you, but Peter assured me you'd enjoy this."

Putting the bottle of tequila back in its box, you accept Steve's gift. Pulling off the ribbon, you can't help but laugh when you see what's inside. "Cards Against Humanity." Peter cheers. "We're playing this the next time I have off," you say, grinning at Steve.

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" He wonders. "I just picked it up and boxed it."

"It's possibly one of the most confusing card games or raunchy card games you'll ever play," Sam says. "I, for one, am looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Steve. I seriously can't wait to play it."

"You're welcome."

Wanda claps her hands. "Mine and Darcy's next. She ordered online and I had to pick it up earlier. But, um, I'm not sure you want to open it up in front of everyone."

"Oh god. Don't tell me it's a vibrator."

Sam laughs out loud as both Peter and Steve start blushing. Bucky looks rather amused and intrigued as Wanda slides two boxes over to you. She shakes her head, giggling. "Not quite."

For a brief moment you're relieved, but then her answer sinks in and you're hesitant all over again. You groan. "Is yours safer? I feel like it is. Which one is it?"

Wanda only smirks as she pushes her box towards you. You open it, marvel at its contents, and then put the lid back on much to the boys' displeasure. Trying to keep a straight face, you look at Wanda. "How many sets did you get?"

"There's four. All in colors that will look amazing against your skin tone."

"Thank you. I'll send you pictures when I wear them."

"Yes please! Natasha wants to know how they fit as well. She was the one who suggested them."

"I'll send them to the ladies group chat then."

"Well that's not fair," Sam complains. "First for not showing us what's inside the box and then you guys have a ladies only group chat. I wanna be in the ladies only group chat."

"But then that defeats the purpose of it being a ladies only group chat," you muse.

"Come on," Peter then whines. "What was the present?"

Your gaze slides to Peter, but instead of outright saying what it is, you say, "Think back to that one Halloween night where you wouldn't let me out of the dorm until I switched costumes."

It takes him only a minute to understand and when he does, he snorts. "That wasn't a costume! That was lingerie."

"Whoa, what?" Sam exclaims, grinning.

"Lingerie can be worn as a costume?" Steve wonders.

"I was actually a Victoria's Secret Angel, complete with the most amazing set of wings, and Petey forbade me from leaving the room. It was a sad, sad night."

"As much as I wanna get into that," Sam says, "I wanna know what Barnes got you more."

You chuckle and glance at Bucky, smile faltering when you see him tense. But then he seems to shake himself out of it and offers you a grin. "Open the bigger one first."

Wanda clears away the other presents as Bucky slides his two towards you. You feel giddy as you grab the bigger box, untying the black silk ribbons and lifting the lid. There's tissue paper you open up and you gasp, happily giggling. "You didn't?!"

"Well you did say it was your favorite movie, sweetheart."

"Yes!" You glance up, beaming at Bucky, and your heart swells at his own smile being directed at you. "I really, really love this. I can't wait to hang it up."

"What is it?" Peter wonders, trying to peer across the island.

"It's a quote from Practical Magic," you say and Peter huffs a laugh, knowing full well your love for that movie. You carefully pick it up and turn it around so everyone can see it as you read it off by heart. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

"Aw," Wanda coos. "That's adorable."

"I made Bucky watch this movie a while back," you say. "I need to show it to you one of these days."

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

With nothing else to say, you place it back in its box and set it aside in favor for the second box. It's a little smaller, but you're excited for it nonetheless. Untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, you immediately laugh at the white petals scattered atop the tissue paper.

"Barnes, you smooth sonuvabitch," Sam mutters.

Steve and Peter laugh, but you're so focused on the notecard that's under some of the petals. Lifting it up, you read the note to yourself because immediately you know it's personal. My better half has to be funny, get along with my friends, won't judge me for my past, and has decent taste in movies.

Heart fluttering, you bite the corner of your lip when it feels like you're smiling way too much.

"Well what does Prince Charming have to say?" Sam asks.

"That's none of your business." You close the note and then tuck into your back pocket, chuckling when Sam and Wanda complain. When you meet Bucky's gaze, you immediately flush and mentally curse yourself when you see him smirk in return.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you center yourself and then part the tissue paper. You look at the second portrait and gasp after you read it.

"What? What is it?" Peter wonders.

This second portrait is of a hand drawn bowl with a tipped over salt shaker, a small bundle of lavender, a small bundle of rosemary, and a heart beneath it. Above the bowl is a swirl of flower petals and inside the swirl of petals, in very pretty cursive writing, are the words I wished for you too.

Did he just- did he confess his own feelings by using a Practical Magic quote? Or was this just you overthinking his present? You glance to meet Bucky's gaze and at his gauging expression your eyes fill with tears.

"What did you do, Barnes?!" Sam scolds him. "You made the poor girl cry at her own birthday celebration!"

But Bucky isn't paying him any attention, instead he's solely focused on you. You set the present aside and walk around the kitchen island on shaky legs, and Bucky readily reaches for your waist as you grab his face and pull him down into a kiss.

You can't believe you're kissing Bucky, but then he squeezes your waist and returns the kiss, and you know you made the right choice.

Someone gasps, but then the following words let you know exactly who it is. "Darcy is going to be so angry she missed this." Wanda. That is Wanda.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam wonders. "What type of present can cause this type of reaction?"

You smile against Bucky's mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before falling flat on your feet after having been on the tips of your toes in order to reach his mouth.

"It's my favorite quote from my favorite movie," you say. You turn around to address your friends, but Bucky doesn't let you go far. He wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you back so you're resting against his chest and tucked beneath his chin. "It's a movie about witches," you explain. "These two little girls are being raised by their aunts and they see them performing love spells for a local woman. Basically, one of the young girls refuses to fall in love after witnessing a love spell gone wrong and she does her own spell to call forward a love that would be impossible to find- a man who's favorite shape would be a star and who had one green eye, one blue. Years down the road, the sisters accidentally murder a man."

Sam snorts. "How the hell does one accidentally murder someone?"

"Shush." Wanda admonishes him. "I want to hear the story behind the gift."

You and Bucky chuckle, and you continue to explain. "Anyway, they send in an US Marshall to investigate the disappearance and the one who had done the love spell at a young age starts to fall for this man. She ends up telling him about the murder, but he doesn't quite believe her. Then they're on the verge of hooking up when she gets a good look at his eyes- one green eye, one blue."

"Oh my god. That's so cute!" Wanda says.

"It gets cuter. And sadder," you say. "So she explains to this man about her family, the murder, and how she can't be with him because he's only attracted to her because of a love spell she did when she was just a little girl. At first he's skeptical about this spell bringing him to her, but then he ends up believing her. And as he's walking away from her, he stops to tell her I wished for you too."

"So you made out with Barnes because of that?" Sam shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow."

"It's fuckin' adorable. Stop ruining the moment, Samuel!" Bucky laughs at your words and pulls you closer to him.

"So while I'm happy for Buck," Steve says, "I'm still really curious about what Darcy's gift is."

Peter nods. "Same."

Wanda giggles, but says nothing as she grabs the box and slides it over to you. You groan because you know it can be nothing good, but you still open it since everyone is watching and waiting. As soon as you part the tissue paper and read the box, alongside taking in the picture on the box, your face flames as you shove the lid back on. Wanda cackles.

"I hate her."

"She said to give the remote to-"

"Don't!" You cut Wanda off, blushing even further. "I know who she means to have control of that."

"They- they make underwear that does that?" Bucky muses and you die a little on the inside in embarrassment. You elbow him as he starts to laugh behind you.

Sam instantly knows what the gift is now and starts to laugh, but Steve and Peter apparently need some help.

"Lewis got you vibrating panties, didn't she?"

"Oh my god, Sam, if you don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

Steve is torn between laughing and trying not to make you even more uncomfortable, but his amusement wins out. "Given Y/N's flustered state, I'm assuming Darcy wants Bucky to have the remote."

"I mean this seems like it could make for an interesting night."

Everyone laughs at Bucky's sudden interest in the box you're doing your damnedest to keep shut, but luckily Peter steps in. "As much I love watching Y/N squirm, can we get ready to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go wait downstairs for it, kid."

Sam and Peter head for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, and you turn around in Bucky's hold. "Help me take this stuff to my car so I don't have to do it later?"

"Sure thing, doll." He grins. But instead of stepping away, he pushes you further into the kitchen island. You smile as he cages you in and then huff a laugh when he reaches for the box behind you. "So exactly how long do we have to be dating before we can test these out?"

You slowly lean upward so your lips brush his as you say, "I'd say very, very soon if you would put your ass into gear and help me move these presents like I asked."

Bucky laughs and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Then let's get to it."

The telltale sound of a phone's camera goes off and you turn your face towards the sound. Wanda is beaming, her phone pointed towards you and Bucky. "Darcy wanted evidence I wasn't lying. She's going to be so happy."

Bucky turns his face to look at her then, his cheek brushing against yours where he's yet to back off from you. "Tell Lewis I said thanks for the present. I'll give her my review of them in a few weeks."

Wanda's eyes widen and you immediately blurt, "Don't you dare!" But she's already texting and you know the group chat full of ladies is going to be full of messages that you'll have to reply to later. Quietly groaning, you slap your hands against Bucky's waist and push him back. Looking up at him, you shake your head but the corner of your lips turn up in amusement. "You're terrible. I would threaten to withhold sex, but I've been looking forward to that for a while. I'd just be punishing us both."

"Just tell me when and where, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Oh no. You guys are going to be that couple," Steve complains.

And without missing a beat, you face him and say, "Fuck off, Rogers!" Bucky snorts.

"You're cranky when you haven't gotten laid."

You gasp as Bucky bursts out laughing right in your ear, but he quickly catches you as you try to lunge for his best friend. "You know what, I was going to be discreet when banging your best friend, but now I'm going to tell you all the filthy things Bucky likes to do just to annoy you. I will go into excruciating detail about the look and taste of his dick!"

Steve blanches as it's Wanda's turn to burst out laughing. "You've done it now, Steve."

And as Steve looks to Bucky for help, he merely shrugs. "You brought this on yourself, Stevie. Hope you enjoy the play by plays."

Relaxing in Bucky's hold and moving so you're hip to hip with him, you slide your arm behind his waist and hook your thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. "We're going to have so much fun."

[wordsfromthesol]

Hunted

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Taglist: togasbetch malfoys-demigod pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: You're a detective at Bludhaven PD with Dick Grayson and when a serial killer your after starts hunting you down, you have no choice but to ask for his help. Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking Word Count: 2.3k

You had been working at Bludhaven PD for about 2 years before the hotshot Dick Grayson came on the scene. Though you had grown into friends or at least friendly coworkers…he annoyed the shit out of you. After all, everything seemed to come so easy to the pretty boy Grayson and you could count the number of times you had actually seen him at the station on one hand. Thankfully this happened to be one of those times because you had run out of options.

"Dick, can I get your eyes on this case? I'm been staring at these files for hours and can't find the pattern. Yeah, they've obviously got a type. But that's not enough to go on."

Dick briefly runs through the file before staring blankly up at you. "You can't be serious, right? You need to take yourself off this case."

"People are dying, Dick." You had already assumed you would get some pushback from the star detective.

"I can't let you go after this guy. You're an exact match to all 5 people they've killed." Dick attempted to reason with you, to no avail.

"Then I'm the exact person who should go after this guy. Rather it be me than some civilian." Finally, Dick relented and gave you some useful information.

"Well…everyone was taken near an abandoned subway line." He takes out a highlighter and marks up the map. You tried to mask your nervousness as the bright yellow line stopped a block from your apartment.

"Thanks…I didn't even notice that." He nodded, still apprehensive about giving you the information, as he handed the file back to you. Tucking the papers away, you decided to finish up the research at home. 

As you sauntered home, you were barely able to keep your eyes open. Stopping at the crosswalk, you noticed a man staring at you in your peripheral vision. You swore he was the same man from five blocks ago. Surely you were just paranoid…right? You began weaving in and out of the crowd, making a complete circle back to the crosswalk. Yet there he was in the corner of your eye. This wasn't paranoia. This was real. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and pressed Dick's contact card.

"Hey, uhm…remember that case we were talking about today?"

"You mean literally 20 minutes ago? Yeah, I remember."

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips, "Well you were probably right." Dick could hear the shakiness in your voice.

"He's following you, isn't he?"

Your current situation momentarily left your mind as the words tumbled out of your mouth, bypassing the brain. "How the fuck could you possibly know that?!"

"Don't go home. I'm coming to get you." You wanted to plead with him to stay on the line, but your stubbornness got the best of you. Slowing your pace, you attempted to stay in the crowd and walked straight. How was Dick even going to find you? As soon as the thought danced across your mind, there he was, as if you summoned him from thin air.

"Y/N!" The familiar voice called out from the street. A deep sigh of relief flooded over you as you trotted over to him. Crawling on the back of the motorcycle, you didn't bother asking where he was taking you. Anywhere was better than here.

**

"Wow. Just wow." Dick shook his head in awe as he climbed off the bike, ushering you into the apartment building.

"It's not like I planned it." You tried to force the uneasiness from your voice.

"Right, of course not. You realize he had to have been following you for days now, right? He knows where you live. You can't go back there." You hadn't really thought about that, yet where were you supposed to go? You looked at him pensively, unable to form a proper sentence. "Looks like you're staying here then." The alacrity of the statement caught you off guard.

"I can't just --"

"Right right. So let's go antagonize the serial killer. Genius." The sheer amount of sarcasm took you aback, this was a completely different side of the infamous Dick Grayson than you were used to.

You glared at him as he opened the door to his apartment. "So dramatic…besides, someone has to stop him. He's already after me, so I'm the perfect bait."

Dick's eyes went wide. He looked at you like you had three heads before bellowing, "ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"

"Do you have a better plan?" Part of you hoped he would begin rattling off some convoluted trap. One that didn't hold your life in the balance.

"Well…not yet. But I'm sure we can think of something. Give me a few days."

**

A few days came and went and you were losing your mind in Dick's apartment. The worst part was, you were never alone. Dick or one of his family members was always by your side. You weren't quite sure how some 14-year-old kid was supposed to do anything if said serial killer showed up, but Dick was insistent.

Finally, you caught a break. Jason, your latest babysitter got called away on some emergency and Dick wouldn’t be home for another hour. Of course, Jason informed you to tell Dick he left just moments ago, which actually worked in your favor. You dialed Captain Holt on your phone and began to strategize. The captain wasn't keen on using you for bait either, but eventually, you swayed him. Everything was planned to take place tomorrow afternoon, a time Dick just so happened to be testifying in court.

"Y/N?" The confusion spread across Dick's face as he opened the door.

"I'm here!" You called out from the bedroom before stepping into sight.

"Where's Jason?"

"Oh, family emergency. But he left like two minutes ago. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay…" Dick didn't sound convinced.

"I also got a call from the captain today. He wants to meet with me tomorrow at 2." You tried to play it off as a casual request, but you knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"What? Why? We still haven't caught the psychopath…plus I have court tomorrow."

"Dick, I'll be in a police station. You can drop me off on your way."

Dick let out an exasperated sigh, "Fine. But I don't like it."

**

You were absolutely terrified, but you tried your best not to let it show through. After all, you asked for this. Dick still seemed uneasy, even as he dropped you off at the precinct. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong. Though there wasn't much he could do at this point, considering he was due in court by noon.

"Y/N. Are you sure about this?" Captain Holt questioned as you walked into his office.

"No. But something needs to be done. This guy doesn't just give up. So either I'm bait and we have a chance at catching him, or I die a horrific death for no reason. Not the best of options."

Holt nodded in understanding, "Well everything is set up. We have snipers in position around the perimeter of your apartment and a dozen plain-clothed in the vicinity."

"So hopefully we have a chance. What about near the abandoned subway entrance? That's how Dick thinks he's staying out of sight."

"Covered. We are ready to go on your command. Though I still think Detective Grayson should be informed of the plan."

"He's in court. So he couldn't help out anyways. The fewer people that know, the better. Let's move."

**

You arrived at your apartment without any issues, though you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. With everyone watching you, it would be hard to notice one more face. Nevertheless, you persisted, attempting to go about your day in your apartment. The apartment that now seemed so foreign to you, though you had only been unexpectedly ripped from it a week ago.

As the day went on you began to feel more and more lightheaded. Normally, you would chalk it up to stress, but given the situation, you decided otherwise.

"Captain…"

"There is still no sign of him," he ignored the strain in your voice.

"I think…he's already…here." A crashing sound was left ringing through the earpiece.

"I want everyone on her position now! Get me a visual!" Captain Holt's booming voice commanded those around him. "Where are my snipers?!" An eerie silence crept over the line. "Shit." He mumbled before pulling out his phone. The dial tone appeared to mock him until finally the other end picked up.

"What happened?" The stringent words reverberated in the air.

"He has her."

"Goddammit. How did he get her out of the precinct?" Dick didn't wait for an answer. "Because she wasn't in the precinct. How could you let her be bait? You've seen what this guy does!" The anger was bubbling up inside him. Out of everyone, why you. Why did he have to go after you?

"I know."

"How long? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD HER?!" Two cops turned towards Captain Holt as Dick's voice echoed from the speaker.

"About a minute. From her apartment." As soon as the word left his lips, the line went dead. Holt buried his head in his hands. If there was any hope of finding her, it was Dick Grayson.

**

You woke up in a cold, dark, concrete room. "Well, guess that didn't work out as planned…" You mumbled to yourself, or so you thought.

"Really? You thought a bunch of cops in blue jeans could stop me? I've been hunting you for months. Along with the others.  But you. You were my challenge. I memorized everything about you. Your favorite breakfast, your confidants, what time you call your family. Lovely little folks, by the way. And then you thought you could hideaway in that pathetic little Richard Grayson's apartment. The only reason I didn't take you then is because I didn't want to. What kind of challenge would that be? That would have diminished everything!" He carefully stepped around your chair, weaving your hair in and out of his fingers, until he turned to face you. "But now, here you are! My masterpiece! My coup d'etat!" His lips forced their way to yours. "Don't worry, my sweet. I'll take my time with you. After all, the grand finale demands perfection!" The crazed man turned on his heel and sauntered out of the room, leaving you with your own horrific thoughts.

It felt like hours had gone by before he returned. When he walked in, his eyes went immediately to your wrists and fingernails, which were now bloodied beyond recognition. "Now I wish you hadn't done that. Blood does not make for a spectacular fossilization." He walked around and surveyed the damage. "I guess it was to be expected though. After all, it wouldn't be fun without the challenge."

"You know, you keep saying that this is some big challenge, yet you gassed me and then tied me up. That doesn't seem like you are really challenging yourself."

"Simple-minded fool! Challenges are not always those of brute force. It took planning and timing to get you here. Those 4 snipers set up on the surrounding roofs? Had to get them out of the way. A delay in your communication device? Truly a necessity. And though you had the foresight to add a few men to the abandoned subway tunnel, they neglected to surveil the associated maintenance hatches. So you see, your perfect encapsulation proves to be quite the…" You noticed a slight furrow of his brow as the sentence broke. "Challenge. Now to finish preparing the resin!" Off he galloped, but you swore something was off. A slight change in his mood.

You heard several loud bangs before your captor fell backward through the door. Nightwing loomed over his grisly body. Then his eyes shot up towards you.

"I'm okay." The words were forced from your throat. With those two small words, Nightwing glared down towards the man and began throwing punch after punch. "STOP! Please!" You screamed out the words, shocked at the vigilante's ferocity. Nightwing's eyes slowly shifted towards you. It was as if a twinge of pain ran its way through his body as he crept towards you. Once close enough, his hands carefully cradled your face until finally, he spoke.

"I don't know what I would have done without you. Why did you do something so stupid?" You could tell he wanted to say the words out of anger, yet a euphoric aura surrounded them instead.

Still confused, you began to answer as he unbound your wrists and ankles. "He wasn't going to give up. This was our chance to catch him…"

"I would've found another way!" The words burst out of him louder than expected. Nightwing let out a sigh as he helped you out of the chair.

"Alright, Dick, I'm sorry." You glanced at him for a reaction...nothing. Worried he didn't hear you, you pushed the point further. "Guess I should be glad you weren't in court long."

Dick stopped in his tracks, finally realizing his mistake. "I…uh…left early." As the two of you got outside, there were a dozen cop cars already swarming the area. Two of the officers came up to meet you.

"Detective! Are you alright? What happened?!" The first began to raddle off questions, but Dick quickly deflected.

"You can find out later. I'm taking her to the hospital. Your man is inside, unconscious."

"I can still talk ya'know…" You mumbled as the officer ran off to inform the others of the new information.

"Yeah, but then you'd try to convince me not to take you to the hospital. And that's not going to happen. But don't worry, the captain is on his way there now. You'll get to regale the entire course of events with him."

It was almost scary how well he knew you. "You'll stay too?" The simple question caused an oversize grin to spread across his face, but all he did was simply nod.