#probably felt like freight train slamming into him

[iron-sparrow]

Oh hello, will you be mine? I haven't felt this alive in a long time All the streets are warm and grey ♪

feat. @guillotine-of-the-snake

[calypsocolada]

WINNER WINNER | r. zoro

(click here for part two)

synopsis: a stoic swordsman helps you figure out what your type is. authors note: hi :] i like zoro. no other notes. cw: violence, fluff, small bit of angst, clueless!reader, kissin :*, zoroxreader, small bit of sanjixreader wc: 4.4k

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Zoro’s wooden practice sword swung in an unpredictable arch, you knew you couldn’t avoid it so you turned, letting it smack hard against your shoulder. Pain zaps through your body, the hit more annoying than painful. 

“Ow!” You growled, eyes narrowing. Zoro danced around you, you never knew how light-footed he could be, how quick and precise his sword play was. Zoro was a huge man, he was easily two feet taller than you, built like a damn freight train and somehow still quicker than you. Zoro’s mouth quirked up in a smart ass smirk, his brows raising tauntingly. 

“I thought you said you were getting better.” He jested, obviously trying to get a rise out of you. You took the bait every damn time. You swing your sword in anger. 

“I am!” You yelled, he dodged your assault with ease, playfully hitting your back as you stumbled forwards. You gained your footing and spun back around, swinging again but he just bats it away lazily. 

“Come on, killer, swing with purpose not with anger.” He says listlessly, like he’s bored with this. 

Of course he was bored, he was probably the best swordsman in the world, you were just some idiot pirates daughter. It had been a few months since escaping your fathers crew and although you were one of your fathers best fighters you fought more close combat style, with knives mostly. Swords were long and heavy, especially the ones Zoro used. It was like he made them out of boulders rather than steel. But right now you were using practice swords because you’re sure that if this was a real fight you’d be dead and buried. 

You grip the handle of the sword hard, knuckles turning white. You weren’t used to defeat, it left a sour taste in your mouth. Zoro’s stretched a bit, yawning. The anger always took you over. You were your fathers daughter after all. You pretended to swing the sword again, with clumsy maneuvering and when Zoro went to bat it away you chucked the sword aside, dodging his blade, hitting him square in the stomach with your shoulder. It was meant to take him down but he didn’t budge against you. It was as though you were pushing against a damn tree. You remembered just then how it felt fighting your father, how unmovable he was. You were raising your knee before you could even stop yourself as he knee him square between the legs. A rush of air leaves his lips and the way his body shifts you know you finally caught him off balance. You sweep a leg out from under him and with all the force in your body you shove against him. You both slam against the forest floor, your hips straddling his abs as you jam your forearm down against his neck, successfully pinning him beneath you. He looks up at you with immeasurable annoyance. 

“You’re a dirty fighter.” He huffs, groaning in pain. You nod your head, a proud fact you already knew. 

“You’ve met my father, right?” You jest. This was something new you were learning. Since joining up with Luffy’s crew there were a few things you had to learn. 

They weren’t out to get you. 

You were raised by a killer, his crew were a bunch of killers so naturally you grew up always keeping watch of those around you because the moment you slacked out someone would have their hands around your neck just waiting to extinguish your fire. 

2. You had to soften up and learn to work as a member of a team. 

This one you were still working on. You were alone most of your life, your father never spared you a kind word and sometimes at night you’d lay awake, knowing you were just like him sometimes. You guarded every part of your heart so well that sometimes you could trick yourself into thinking you never had one to begin with. But it beat the day you met Luffy’s crew. They saved you, even when you were good, they knew who and where’d you’d come from and still accepted you for who you were. That meant to you that you had to change. If you wanted to stay a member of this crew you had to let them in. You couldn’t push them away because one bad day would come and they’d stay away. You didn’t think you could survive that. Knowing that there was warmth in this world that you turned cold. 

3. Lastly, how to protect someone. 

You could protect yourself just fine because you’d been left behind in wakes your entire life. But you wouldn’t do that to them. You’d stay and fight because that’s what they did for you. You weren’t just looking out for yourself anymore, you had people, possibly a family, it’d take the devil himself to pull that from your grip. 

“Yeah I met him, he’s an asshole, like you.” Zoro grunts, his pinned hands escaping from your fingers as he turns the tide, swinging you to your back, pressing you into the dirt. You’re not sure where his sword came from but the wooden edge of it was pressed gently against your throat. He beat you. You groaned out a sigh as he cocked his head to the side. 

“I had you.” You fume as he purses his lips, he’s heavy against you, it feels like ten men rather than one. 

“For a second.”

“That’s all a killer needs.” You dared. He must’ve seen that look in your eyes before because he presses the sword ever closer to your neck, but not hard enough to actually hurt. 

“We’re done for today.” He says and suddenly his weight is lifted off you and you feel as though you could finally breathe again. You didn’t know you were holding your breath. Zoro extends a hand to you, narrowing his eyes. “No funny business, I’m hungry.” He warns because for someone who’s only known you for a few months he knows you pretty damn well. Knew that look in your eye, that you would take his hand and end up trying to pin him beneath you again. He knew you hated to lose. You took his hand and did nothing of the sort because you were hungry too. He pulled you to your feet with ease and kept hold of your hand for a second as he spoke. “You’re a good fighter, don’t give up on practicing.” He says and the look in his eye is intense, he meant it. He lets your hand go and bends to grab the practice sword that you tossed aside. 

“I don’t see the point in it, I fight better close.” 

“You can fight better any way you choose. You master the sword and you give yourself more options.” He says, tossing it to you, you catch it with ease.

“More options?”

“To survive. You want that don’t you?” He asks over his shoulder, walking back towards the camp that the crew had set up near the beach. You never thought of it like that before. You learned how to fight because your father needed someone unassuming to kill. Who’s more unassuming than a young girl? You always fought to kill, to end lives, you never cared much for your own. Who could care for a killer after all? Zoro slowed, tossing a glance over his shoulder at you after you took too long to answer.

“Of course I want that.” But your words sounded hollow. There was still that nagging voice of your fathers. There was only so many times someone you looked up to could call you worthless before you started to believe it. It was ingrained in you. To live but not feel worthy of life. Maybe you did want to live, but that didn’t mean you felt like you deserved to. You’d done wrong your entire life, killed and followed in the footsteps of someone you knew was bad. Didn’t that make you guilty of something? 

Zoro’s eyes dissected you, that face you made and the tone of your voice. He was a smart man and for all his faux uninterested stare he read you like a damn book. Like he’d cracked open your mind and read your innermost secrets. It was strange, having someone who you couldn’t fool. Someone who could look at you and call bullshit. 

“Do you just want to survive for the sake of others or for yourself?” He asked, slowing to a stop. Crickets chirped around you, wind picking up, swaying the leaves of the trees gently. You stopped too, mindlessly turning the practice sword over in your hands. 

“Is that a trick question?” You asked and watched him shake his head. You turn the question over in your head. “Surviving for yourself is quite selfish right?” 

“Not necessarily.” He breathes out, walking and plopping down listlessly on a stump, he stretches out his legs. “You charge into things head on, you don’t wait for others to act.”

“That’s a good thing.” You cross your arms defensively. “How else would you catch enemies by surprise?”

“By others I meant your crew. When you charge into things you could end up getting hurt.” He countered, you kick at a raised root and toss your head back a bit dramatically. 

“But if I kill the bad guys first you guys have nothing to worry about.” 

“We’d still worry about you.”

“Why?” You questioned as though someone worrying about you was way out of the realm of possibility. 

“Because you aren’t a martyr, we don’t need you throwing yourself on the knife.” Zoro argues, it’s one of the first times he seems interested in what he’s talking about. Passionate even. “I know what you’re used to. That’s why I wanted to train you.”

“So I can fight with a long blade instead of a short one?” You quipped. 

“So you can fight next to me.” He says as though you should’ve known. You look up from the ground over to him. He has this strange look in his eyes, the kind of strange look Sanji gave you sometimes, though Sanji looked at every girl like that. But not Zoro, the man was inexpressive usually. 

“Fight next to you?” You echo, as if trying the words out loud would give them a different meaning. Zoro nods his head. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice? Not having to wonder who has your back?” He asks. You look at him, something stirring inside you. 

“Is that what you want?” You start. “Someone who can keep up with you?” 

He nods his head. 

“Don’t you?” You ponder it for a moment. 

“I guess, yeah.” You say softly. “I feel like I keep up with you just fine.”

“You could be better.” Zoro jests, pushing off the stump he sat on.  

“I took you down, big man.” You growl, jogging to catch up with him as the sun starts to set. 

“You cheated.”

“I was being… resourceful.” You said and heard Zoro laugh, a warm laugh coming from his chest. You never heard him laugh before, probably in the same way he’d never heard you laugh. You both were somewhat serious types. 

“Sure, let’s call it that.” He intones. 

Back at the campsite the first person to greet you and Zoro was Sanji. Ever since landing on this island Sanji had been acting somewhat differently to Zoro, almost colder. You had no idea what that was about and honestly you didn’t care, not presently because they always bickered anyways. 

“There you guys are!” Sanji all but growls, shooting dagger at Zoro. “We’ve been waiting for you.” He says, giving you a kind smile.

“We didn’t mean to keep you guys, you could’ve eaten.” You say as Sanji shakes his head, guiding you with a gentle hand on your back towards the food. 

“Nonsense, it was no trouble.” Sanji croons as you look towards the rest of the crew. Luffy has his hands crossed against his chest tightly, his face scrunched in annoyance. 

“It was a little trouble.” Luffy grumbles as Sanji shoots daggers at him. You sit down, Sanji occupying the seat next to you as Zoro plops down in the sand across from you. It's quiet as everyone digs into their food. 

“How is it?” Sanji asks, eyes watching you. You’d just filled your mouthful, unable to answer right at that moment.

“It’s a little salty.” Usopp chided as Sanji hurled a dinner roll at him.

“I wasn’t asking you!” Sanji ranted, the roll hitting Usopp square between the eyes. You and Luffy both snort in laughter. You laugh, almost choking on your food which serves to make you two laugh even harder. Sanji turns to you with a worried expression, lightly hitting your back as you're able to swallow your food properly. You bite your lip to keep from laughing as you give Sanji a small smile. 

“It tastes good, Sanji, thank you.” You say and Sanji practically melts. 

“Usopp’s right,” Zoro starts, a mischievous look in his eyes. “It’s a bit salty.” Sanji’s eyes turn to slits as he grabs another roll, hucking it at Zoro who catches it with ease, grinning before taking a bite out of it. 

“I don’t care what you think because my dear Y/n likes it.” Sanji proclaimed, turning to you. “Would you like some more, dear?”

“Sure.” You shrug as he practically stumbles over himself to grab you more. Your eyes meet with Zoro’s, he gives you a wink and you roll your eyes. Zoro liked messing with Sanji and most of the time it was pretty funny. Sanji took a big liking to you and Zoro liked to tease him about it. You weren’t sure what it was that Sanji liked about you but he was always quick to give you anything you asked for. Sanji fills your plate and as the night winds down Luffy, Nami and Usopp take off for bed. 

You sit by the fire next to Sanji, your legs pulled to your chest as he leans back, eyes staring at the stars. It’s quiet, just the sound of the fire crackling and the waves of water crashing nearby. Your eyes watch the fire as it slowly lulls you into comfort. Suddenly a blanket is placed over your shoulders as you blink, eyes watering. You turn to see Zoro as he plops down near you. You silently thank him, pulling the covers closer to your chest, shielded from the cold. Something burning hotter was the look you caught sight of from Sanji, he looked as though he was seconds away from challenging Zoro to a duel. But when he noticed you his face morphed into a smile again. 

“Is a measly blanket gonna be enough to keep you warm, my dear?” Sanji asks. “I could scoot closer to you?” He offers.

“The blanket’s good.” You answer, unaware of the implications. Zoro snorts beside you, amused at something you weren’t sure of. 

“Do you have something to add, Zoro?” Sanji hisses as Zoro, face unphased as he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Sanji?” You start.

“Yes, dear?” He asks, voice all soft, way different from the tone he was using a second ago. 

“Did Zoro do something to make you angry?” You ask, making Zoro snort again. Sanji shakes his head.

“Nothing more than usual, dear, no need to worry.” He says and you nod your head, satisfied with that answer, eyes sliding back towards the fire. “Could I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” You hum, watching the flames flicker and dance. 

“What’s your type?” He asks. Zoro doesn’t snort this time, he fully laughs, gaining an angry stare from Sanji. “Shut your mouth you damn idiot!” Sanji yells across the fire at Zoro. “You’re ruining the moment!”

“My type of what?” You ask cluelessly. Zoro can’t help but laugh even more. You look over at him, confused but he’s laughing so hard his eyes are closed. You look back at Sanji.

“Ignore that damn fool, dear. Your type in a partner.” He explains. 

“Type in a partner?” You echo, Zoro slowly quiets down next to you. Sanji nods his head. You purse your lips, thinking. You and Zoro fought pretty well together the few times you had to, it was just mere hours ago that he told you he liked the idea of fighting with you and you had to admit you didn’t mind that also. “I guess Zoro would be my type.” You say, completely unaware of the havoc you just caused. Sanji clamps a hand to his chest dramatically over his heart. You look at Zoro, his cheeks blushing a moment before he begins a fit of laughter all over again. Understanding the miscommunication before you and Sanji do. 

“You hear that, Sanji? I’m her type.” Zoro boasts jokingly, throwing an arm around your shoulders, loving the effect it was having on Sanji. Sanji looked like a deflated balloon. Sanji sinks back into the sand as you cock your head, confused. Zoro gives your shoulder a small squeeze as you look back over at him. “He meant romantic partner.” He whispers just to you. Your eyebrows raise, mouthing the word ‘oh’.

“I’m sorry, Sanji, I thought you meant fighting partner.” You corrected and Sanji shot back up, hopefulness on his face again.

“It’s okay, dear, you scared me there.” Sanji sighs wistfully, running a hand through his hair. Zoro’s arm moves away from you as you look back at him. 

“Keep it there.” You order softly. “I was getting warm.” Zoro’s brows raise in surprise but he does as you ask, even scooting a bit closer to you. When you look back at Sanji his jaw is practically touching the sand. “What?” You ask innocently, he shuts his mouth instantly, shaking his head. 

“N-nothing.” He turns away, kicking sand at the fire. You feel Zoro laugh softly. You had no idea what sort of nonverbal conversation these two were having and honestly you didn’t care to know. You close your eyes, leaning into Zoro’s warmth. Romantic partner. You were thinking about it now because you’d never thought about it before. There was no love where you came from, no positive role models, no romantic tension. That stuff was way out of your realm of understanding.

“How do you know your type?” You ask, turning to look at Sanji. His eyes meet yours, his eyes glancing at Zoro’s arm around your shoulders then back to you. 

“That's a hard one to explain.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Is it something you just know?” You ask and Sanji nods his head. 

“More or less, yeah,” Suddenly he lets out a big yawn, stretching. “Boy am I beat. Are you tired?” He asks you.

“Not really.” You say and watch as he pouts. 

“Maybe you should head off to bed then.” Zoro says. Sanji’s eyes glare his way as he grumbles, pushing up from the sand and dusting himself off. 

“Night,” He says sharply, trudging across the sand back towards the ship. You watch him go. 

“He is so strange.” You whisper, earning a warm laugh from Zoro. 

“You're clueless, you know that.” He remarked with another soft laugh. You turn to look at him.

“Why?” You ask, his eyes slide to yours. 

“He likes you, killer, a lot.” Zoro explains. You furrow your brows, you already knew he liked you, he treated you very kindly. “And I know what you're thinking. It’s not that kind of like.”

“What other kind is there?” This garners another laugh. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m sorry,” Zoro chuckles, smiling warmly. “He likes you… romantically.” He emphasizes and suddenly everything starts falling into place in your mind. He was always going out of his way for you, giving you extra food, following you around like a lost puppy, practically begging for your attention. 

“Hm.” You hum, turning back to look at the fire. 

“Hm?” Zoro echoes. “You sound mildly uninterested.”

“Eh, I don’t- I guess I don’t understand.”

“Which part?”

“Why would he like me? That makes no sense.” You say and for a moment Zoro is quiet, you turn to look at him, his cheeks pink, probably from the heat of the fire you guessed. 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He asks. And when you just look at him quizzically he pities you a bit. He inhales, sighing. “You do know you're gorgeous right?” He asks as though you did know that. That was not what you were expecting him to say. You can’t remember the last time someone referred to you in a positive connotation. 

“I-- I don’t think so.” You say, your cheeks feel hot under Zoro’s stare, you feel slightly nervous suddenly, but not a bad nervous, you're not really sure how to explain it. It’s completely new to you.

“Well you are. And you're strong, men love strong women.” Zoro goes on, he’s leaning back slightly, his arm still around you as he gazes up at the stars. You bite your lip, your mouth feels dry. Were you getting sick or something? 

“Do you?”

“Hell yeah I do, I’m not an idiot.” He says, amused. You nod your head. 

“Hm.” You say and he looks at you with that amused expression. “But what does him liking me have to do with you? He looked angry with you all night?” You ask, piecing things together in your mind.

“He’s jealous, killer.” He says. 

“Jealous, huh…” You trail off. “Because you're a good partner?” You ask and he scoffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“Sure, let's go with that.” He intones. You lay your head back down on his shoulder, settling against him. You always found your way to Zoro, you two had grown pretty close in the past few weeks. He was a calming presence, one you always seeked out. You liked sitting near him, talking with him and training with him. You liked when he talked and when he looked at you. It was strange, you’d never felt that way before meeting him. Never let your guard down but he just felt like a calming, safe presence to you. 

“What’s your type?” You ask and you feel Zoro tense up slightly, you turn slightly to look up at him. “Something wrong?”

“No, nothings wrong.” He says, recovering smoothly. “Are we talking about fighting partners?” He jokes, earning a laugh from you.

“Apparently not.” You answer. Waiting for a reply. Zoro’s arm slightly tightens around you, pulling you just a bit closer as he fixes the cover that had fallen off your shoulder. 

“I think I might keep that a mystery.” He answers as you huff out a laugh. 

“Keep your secrets then.” You say, letting your eyes drift closed. Sanji’s words float back into your mind, when you asked if liking someone was just something that you knew and he said more or less. It was something you just knew? That was harder to understand for you. “I think I’d like someone who I feel safe with.” You find yourself saying aloud as you try and imagine what that means, you were still kind of getting fighting partner mixed up with a romantic partner because both options you felt you needed someone you could trust.

“That’s a good thing to look out for, killer.” He says softly. You think hard. You felt safe with Zoro, you felt comfortable enough to rest against him. You couldn’t see yourself doing that with Sanji although you trusted him you didn’t want to be that close. Your mind was reeling now. So you liked being close to Zoro? Did that mean anything or nothing at all? You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Romance is confusing.” You find yourself saying. Zoro chuckles, nodding his head.

“Damn straight.” You lift up slightly as he turns to meet your eyes.

“How do you know you know, you know?” You ask as Zoro’s brows raise.

“I don’t know?” He asks as you purse your lips. 

“Sanji said your type was just something you knew,” You puzzled. 

“Killer, I think you may be overthinking it.” Zoro says. 

“What if you think you like someone but you're not completely sure?” You ask as Zoro hums slightly, thinking up an answer for you. 

“I guess- I guess you could kiss them.” He offers and you nod your head, leaning forwards to press a quick, searching kiss to Zoro’s lips. For someone so rough around the edges his lips are surprisingly soft against yours, cold from the night time wind. When you pull back Zoro’s eyes are closed, his cheeks as red as cherries. He slowly opens his eyes, he’s stunned to say the least. 

“I’ve never kissed someone before.” You say, eyes glancing back down at his lips. You kissed him too quickly to tell if anything came from it. “I’m gonna try again.” You say and he stammers but doesn’t object as you scoot closer and lean to press your lips back against his. You leave them there for a moment. You’d seen people kiss before but trying it now you were completely unsure of the correct way to do it. You feel something bloom but you're pulling away before you can put meaning to it. “I suck at this. You do it.” You say as Zoro finally finds his words. 

“You kissed me.” He says shocked and you nod your head. 

“It was bad, I don’t know what I’m doing. This is like training with a sword all over again.” You grumble, pouting and crossing your arms.

“You just need a good instructor.” Zoro’s hand slides up from your shoulder to your cheek, moving your face to face him. You have no time to access the way your stomach bottoms out at that before he’s bringing you flush against his lips this time in a delicate embrace. His fingers tangled in your hair, a shock zaps through you at the contact. Zoro knew exactly what he was doing, he was skilled in more ways than fighting it seemed. You burned all over, your breath catching in your throat. Sanji was right, you knew right then. Right as he pulled you impossibly closer and kissed you with fervor and confidence. When he pulled back your lips chased after him slightly as you stopped yourself. You swallowed dryly. 

“Was that good for you?” He asks, his voice all breathy and hoarse. 

“Uh huh.” You exhale. It's quiet for a beat. “I think,” you start, clearing your throat. “I think maybe you should try again.” You whisper and you don’t have to say anything else because Zoro understands. That and he’s kissing you before you can utter another word.                         

[sunnysideoflondon]

käärijä boyfriend pokédex

in no specific order. some of these don't have links because i either can't find them or i lost them. if you have more to add, links i'm missing, incorrect information, etc please tell me :) i don't really go here anymore but i'll try to keep this list updated

count: 20

Bojan Cvjetićanin

lead singer of joker out + ESC 2023 contestant

do i need to make a list. do you want me to make a list. do i need to show you a li- *gunshots*

i could eventually list out as much as i can find though. or maybe that would need its own post

or you can look in my bojere tag

Robin Packalen

singer + UMK 2023 contestant

that umk interview where he slammed the fuck out of the button to say he'd kiss robin

Benjamin Peltonen

singer + UMK 2023 contestant

them allegedly pining over each other during UMK

jere said something along the lines of "he's a sexy guy. amazing action" but i cant find it

that tiktok of benjamin slapping jere's ass with persikan perään out of all songs in the background

Aapo Vuori

lead singer of portion boys + UMK 2023 contestant

they kissed and jere said it felt good (ver with translation)

UMK confessions where he said aapo massaged his shoulders and they kissed (probably a different kiss than the above)

KUUMAA (they count as 3)

band + UMK 2023 contestants

they will see each other in jere's bedroom

making kissy faces

Damiano David

lead singer of måneskin

THEY DID SOMETHING i don't remember what but i know people include him as a bf for a reason

Häärijä

he's just some guy

the tiktok (or ig story?) where he lifts up häärijä's coat to reveal ass

THAT ig post. the bulbasaur vs pikachu one

the onlyfans.

Jukka Sorsa

one of the daltonit

them kissing in front of a whole audience (more)

i think they did twice actually (or at least nearly) but i can't find the link

Matti Myllyaho

one of the dancers

is matti single? not anymore

Antti Tuisku

singer

him getting pinned to a pillar by antti and looking suspicious (more)

Jesse Voss

singer

onstage tomfoolery

also multiple other occasions

Niko Saarinen

celebrity

choosing the gay celeb over the obviously interested woman (more)

Mika Rajala

some skit maker?

getting suggestively invited into a bathroom

Joonas Kymäläinen

i have no idea who this is

making kissy faces at the guy (but it goes unnoticed)

Ludwig Gassner

alessandra mele's boyfriend

he got accidentally included within the marriage proposal

Random Audience Member

random audience member

get flirted with

Tommy Cash

estonian rapper that he collabed with (on ICIP)

olympiastadion. here are some gifsets, some screen caps, and the full video

the shower tiktok

Pekka Rinne

hockey player

how do i describe this. looking lovingly into each other's eyes or something

this urheilucast episode that hit me like a freight train

is the president of finland supposed to be on this list lol??? i don't know if i made that up or not

[avvail-whumps]

I'm curious to see what happened between Ten and Justinian when he ran away? How did he manage to get vampire blood in his own?

cw: hypnosis, minor injury

Ten found the Collared Forest was a lot scarier than he initially anticipated. Maybe it was because he could barely see, with the strips of moonlight scarcely lighting his way, and the unnatural quietness that surrounded him.

He gripped his new bow tightly, lip pressing into a thin line. Nerves crept up his arms. He tried to shake it off, squinting around him.

This should be far enough.

All he had to do was backtrack, and he’d be straight back to the camp before anyone even realised he was gone.

Setting his quiver down on the ground, Ten fumbled to take an arrow out, trying to hold the bow as he’d seen Luke do it. He gripped it tight, struggled to get the end of the arrow against the string - it slipped a good few times when he tried to pull it back, making him frown deeply.

How did Luke make it look so easy? He had really wanted to surprise him tomorrow. If Ten could show off his skills, then he didn’t doubt Luke would be proud of him. He really wanted the older boy to be impressed with him.

The leaves crinkled under his feet as he let the arrow go, flopping a few feet in front of him.

Ten’s lip jutted out into a pout.

It was lucky he was getting some practice in before Luke could see him. His eyes had well and truly adjusted to the darkness as time passed by, a few arrows lost in the bushes and his fingers aching from the amount of times he’d tried to hold the tough string in that unnatural position.

No arrows had hit a target, now being one of the many tree trunks surrounding him, and the arrows didn’t make it very far. He was getting better, though.

He hoped.

Wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow, he pushed his moppy hair off his forehead, sucking in a sharp breath. It was starting to get a little cold now, and the vast expanse of darkness surrounding him was beginning to make him uneasy. Once that thought sunk into him, he couldn’t shake it off.

He should probably head back now before Mary’s intuition drew her from her sleep, and she realised Ten was gone. Picking up the final arrow from the ground, he quickly turned to backtrack to the camp when—

Ten froze.

He spun, his eyes darting around him as his heart slowly lodged into his throat. Where had he come from? Ten didn’t know direction he’d come.

With his heart starting to race in his chest, he suddenly felt very sick. Gripping both the arrow and the bow tightly in his palms, he shuffled across the crunchy leaves, starting to walk. He skidded to a stop after a moment, his breath hitching.

It all looked the same. Both familiar, and unrecognisable, a mind numbing oxymoron that had him questioning if he was right or not.

A whimper bubbled from his lips before he could stop himself. Picking his feet up, Ten began racing through the forest, winding through the trees as swiftly as he could. It was difficult to see the moon through the thick tops of trees, and Ten felt fear strike straight through his heart.

His belly twisted at the thought of being lost. A cry slipped off his tongue before he could stop himself.

“Luke!” He screamed, the panic having now hit him like a freight train, wrenching his head around in a desperate, hopeless attempt to recognise something. “Luke?”

His foot snagged against something hard, and he was kissing the dirt with a hard slam, all of the air knocked out of his lungs. He felt the arrow snag across his palm, a surging sensation of pain tearing the flesh apart.

He gasped, shakily sliding to his knees and clutching his bloody hand to his chest, a choked sob catching in his throat.

Ten’s eyes caught the broken bow twisted in the ground, and they were suddenly filling up, a small whine slipping past his lips.

“Luke...” He croaked, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when his hand flared in pain, staring in horror at the fresh blood pooling in the palm of his hand. He could taste dirt on his tongue, and leaves crumpled in his hair. “Ow, ow...”

He clutched a shaking hand to his chest, curling up a little as a small sob escaped him.

It was so quiet here. He didn’t even hear any birds, not like the ones near camp. Ten had just wanted to be good at something Luke liked, and he’d gone and got himself lost. Everyone was going to be so disappointed in him.

From beside him, Ten heard a leaf softly crinkle, and then a hand gently cupped his shoulder. He flinched violently without meaning to, and for a moment, he thought his prayers had been answered and Luke had come to help him.

But this man was blond. He wasn’t Luke. In fact, Ten didn’t recognise him at all, and those gleaming red eyes in the darkness gave away everything about him within a second.

Fear twisted in his stomach, and Ten tried to scramble back. The vampire paused, pulling his hand away.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he spoke, his voice tender and even kind. Pain flared in his palm, and it was difficult to decide what to focus on. He froze on the spot. “Hey, it’s alright. Look.”

The vampire knelt down, pulling a clean cloth out of his pocket, and flashing it towards Ten, as if making sure he knew it wasn’t a weapon of some sorts. Ten felt fidgety and anxious, but his watery eyes gingerly glanced towards the handkerchief. The vampire seemed pleased at that.

“Would you let me clean it?” He asked gently, tilting his head. “That’s all. You hurt yourself rather badly.”

Ten’s heart was pounding against his chest. He remembered everything Luke had told him about vampires - that there were scary creatures, dangerous creatures, that they fed on their blood, and that he should never engage with one.

But still, against his better judgement, the throbbing of his palm and the sticky blood between his fingers was making him increasingly uncomfortable, and this vampire was nothing like what he’d been told.

Ten slowly inched his hand towards him.

The vampire smiled warmly, and slowly took his wrist, tugging his hand a little closer. His skin was cold to the touch, and Ten winced a little at the contact as it sent a shiver up his spine. He began to wipe around the wound, mopping up the excess blood.

Ten stared at him dumbly. Tears still steadily rolled down his cheeks, not just from the presence of the dangerous creature, but from the fact he had destroyed Luke’s birthday present.

“You’re a vampire,” he whispered dumbly.

The creature glanced at him. “Yes, I am. My name is Justinian.”

Ten didn’t give him his name.

“Are you...” His voice failed him, and he swallowed the words. “Are you going to drink my blood?”

The vampire stilled, and then a soft, almost breathless chuckle escaped his lips. He continued to mop up the blood, this time gently dabbing the fresh wound. Ten’s spine stiffened.

“Does it look like I’m planning on drinking your blood?” Justinian countered, and Ten’s expression wrinkled in discomfort as he continued to apply gentle pressure to the wound. It was shaking uncontrollably, but the creature had a steady grip on him. He sniffled softly, jerkily shaking his head.

“No?” He squeaked, his voice wobbly. “Are you?”

Justinian let out another breathless laugh. “Of course not.” 

Ten’s throat bobbed, swallowing uneasily. Wasn’t that what vampires did? Luke had told him they were the most dangerous creatures that roamed the Earth, that they were safe as long as they stayed within the camp. His bottom lip wobbled pathetically. He wanted to go back home. 

“What are you doing out here so late, and by yourself?” Justinian suddenly asked him, causing Ten to swallow the small whimper bubbling in his throat. 

“I got lost,” he croaked, voice failing him. Pain shot through his palm when the vampire continued to dab the wound, and Ten couldn’t help but let out a strangled cry, trying to jerk his arm back. Justinian had the strength to keep him there, but he let go easily enough. His eyes seemed to soften in sympathy. Ten wondered if he was even a vampire at all. 

“I know a much better way to heal it,” he rumbled gently, motioning to his wound. Ten sniffled, trying to distract himself from the throbbing pain. Blood was still pouring out of the wound, dripping onto the leaves underneath him and sinking into the dirt. He watched hesitantly as Justinian rolled up the cuffs of his pristine sleeves, bringing his wrist to his mouth. 

He saw a flash of sharp fangs tear over the smooth skin, and his heart surged into his throat. Justinian seemed to notice his discomfort, fresh blood pooling from the wound. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” the vampire assured him. “Vampire blood, for a human like you, has healing properties. It’ll seal up that wound of yours within minutes.” 

Ten shifted uncomfortably, rigid and unsure. Drinking blood didn’t seem right - that was what vampires were supposed to do, not him. As Justinian inched closer, Ten couldn’t stop himself from leaning back apprehensively. The vampire stilled, a small smile spreading across his lips. 

“Have I given you a reason not to trust me?” He asked, making Ten hesitate. 

“You’re a vampire,” he answered quietly. Justinian only repeated the question. 

“Have I given you a reason not to trust me?” 

Ten pondered on whether it was a trick question, before hestiantly opening his mouth, an unsureness surrounding him as he answered. “No?” 

Justinian nodded - Ten supposed he was right. Luke had told him a vampire wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him and drink his blood on sight if he ever stumbled upon one, but even with the sticky, coppery blood streaming from his own wound, the vampire hadn’t tried to drink it. Nor had he even attempted to hurt Ten.

Regardless, the torn flesh was really starting to throb, and he wanted the pain to go away. As if noticing the hesitance start to slowly ease from his eyes, Justinian shifted forward, one hand cupping the back of Ten’s head softly. 

“It won’t taste very nice,” he warned, and Ten cringed as he brought his wrist up to his mouth. His nose wrinkled, but let his fingers gently hold onto Justinian’s arm for support as he lapped at the blood unsurely. After a little more coaxing from the vampire, Ten was frowning deepy and slowly sucking blood from the wound, the liquid almost burning his tongue and sending an unpleasant taste across his mouth. 

Justinian patted his head softly, his eyes gleaming a little in the darkness. His lip twitched into a subtle smirk. 

“A little more,” he encouraged, only met by an annoyed huff from Ten. Justinian chuckled breathlessly. “I know.” 

When he finally moved his wrist from his mouth, Ten made a retching sound, scrubbing the blood from his lips with desperate vigour. He shuddered a little at the metal aftertaste in his mouth, a strange tingling sensation spreading through his limbs. That was one of the strangest things he had ever done. 

“That was so gross,” he whined, cringing. The vampire had gently taken his wrist in his hands once more, mopping up the last of the blood on his palm. Ten didn’t even notice. 

“Indeed,” he rumbled. “But, look.” 

Ten’s eyes drifted over to his palm, where Justinian swiped the cloth one final time over the flesh to reveal there was no wound. The skin was smoothed over, as if it had never been cut in the first place, not even a scar or a slither of pain remaining. Ten’s eyes widened, running a finger over the flesh softly. 

“Wow,” he gasped, flexing his fingers in curiosity. “It’s…It’s healed.” 

Justinian tilted his head as a big grin spread across Ten’s face, staring up at him gratefully. His red eyes seemed to gleam even brighter, and the kid couldn’t help but blink slowly at the unnatural colour. It was unlike anything he had seen before. The vampire’s lip curved into a smirk. 

“I told you,” he hummed, folding the small cloth over. “Say, that name I heard you shouting before.” 

Ten nodded slowly. “Luke?” 

“Luke,” Justinian repeated, gently stroking the kid’s cheek with his knuckle. He nuzzled a little into the touch. “Who is he?” 

Ten’s brain suddenly felt very foggy. His eyelids were all droopy and he wondered if it was because it was the middle of the night and he should be sleeping. His brain barely registered what Justinian was saying anymore, but his heavy tongue still managed to push out an answer. 

“My,” he felt his tongue tie. “My…”

The vampire hummed, gently tilting his head up. He found himself sinking further into those red, gleaming eyes. “That’s it,” he encouraged. 

“My friend,” he answered quietly, voice soft. “My big brother.” 

That was weird. Ten had never called Luke his big brother before, only ever to himself in the confines of his own mind. Justinian hummed again, and Ten let out a sleepy little huffle. 

“Your big brother,” he mused. “Alright. I have some friends I’d like you to come and meet first. You can tell me all about where you live, and then we’ll take you back to your big brother. Does that sound alright?” 

Ten really wanted to see Luke right now. He dazily nodded his head, and the vampire took him by the hand, lifting him onto his feet. He swayed a little, but there was a firm hand on the back of his neck keeping him from falling. He sighed happily, almost feeling as though he was floating, all of that panic he should be feeling snuffed out like a candle light. 

Justinian gently lifted him into his arms next, and Ten placed his head on his shoulder, content and relaxed. His broken bow was scooped up from the ground.

It was like the vampire wasn’t even walking, the leaves making no sound within his feet, watching the trees move by him in a blur as his mind filled with all sorts of fuzzy, pleasant thoughts. 

Ten could stay like this for a little while longer. He was sure Luke wouldn’t mind.

tag list – @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @obsessednerd505 @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires

[delivish]

snippetz

little snippet of something I’m working on. Rookie Monster Hunter! Butters, Werewolf! Kenny. enemies to lovers monsterfuckers because why not?? ! ??

Butters tried to sit up, sore, slippery, exhausted, but Kenny was a solid weight at his back, and he was slowly squeezing all the air out of his lungs. Butters nudged him in the side, driving the point of his elbow into Kenny’s ribs — you’re heavy; you can get off me now. 

Kenny growled, shifting his weight, and Butters was finally able to take a breath, ragged and panting. The blankets, the sheets, hell, even the damn mattress had been shredded next to his head, and Butters winced, wondering how in the hell he was going to explain this. The destruction of his bedding seemed a minor complaint, though, coupled with the relief he felt over the fact that Kenny hadn’t actually used those claws on him. It could have been worse. Probably could have been a whole lot better, considering, but hey, at least he was still alive. 

Butters flushed, post-nut clarity slamming into him like a runaway freight train, all the rampant desire he’d felt just a moment ago melting into a sticky emotional residue of guilt and shame, coupled with a certain disbelief. Kenny may not have killed him, but if his father ever found out what he had done, none of that would matter. 

Kenny was still lying on top of him, inside him; Butters could feel Kenny’s breath stirring in his hair, arms wrapped almost protectively around him, his racing heart finally slowing to a steady beat in his chest. Butters wriggled pointedly, and when that failed to get a reaction, he elbowed him again, not at all gently. Kenny hissed in frustration. 

“Hey. Can you cool it?” Kenny asked. His voice had returned to its usual smooth pitch, no trace of the snarling werewolf Butters had been ordered to kill — and failed so spectacularly at. 

“Get. Off. Me,” Butters ordered, his voice biting, hostile, as if he hadn’t been moaning Kenny’s name in ecstasy just a few moments ago. Hey, whatever, that was then, this was now. One little slip didn’t change his mission. 

Kenny chuckled and, to Butters’ extreme annoyance, snuggled closer. Kenny’s taunt came floating back to him: So cute. All bark, no bite. 

“Can’t,” Kenny mumbled sleepily. “I’m knotted.” 

“You —” Butters’ stomach lurched, settling somewhere in his throat. “Wuh-uh, what does that mean?!”

“What do you think it means?” Butters couldn’t see him, but he could practically hear Kenny rolling his eyes. 

“Enlighten me!” 

“When a Mommy and Daddy werewolf like each other very much…” 

[talistableau]

A/N

Part 2! I can’t believe already how many ppl are liking this, it makes me feel so giddy XD

A couple of content warnings quickly

aggressive/threatening behaviour, bruise mention, talks of racism, underage pregnancy, mature language, brief mention of injury and just reader and Eddie being too cute for words

if I missed anything out let me know!

Tags:

@tayhar811

@cyberxcore

if you’d like to be tagged in the next part, just reply down below!

Without further ado, enjoy! 2.2k words!

ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You entered the combination of your locker and twisted the knob, deja vu hitting you like a freight train as you pulled it open, taking your books out and stuffing them into your bag. You were exhausted, an eight hour shift bartending at The Hideout the night before school probably wasn’t the greatest idea but hey—you needed the money. Rent, heating and food wasn’t going to pay for itself, was it? Especially with a four year old who wanted everything within grabbing distance in the supermarket.

Although partying for a couple of hours after your shift with Eddie and the rest of his band definitely didn’t do much for your energy and stamina, or help the lack of it.

Slamming it closed, you jumped back, coming face to face with the one person you really hoped that you wouldn’t have the misfortune of seeing. And he looked pissed beyond belief. Swallowing slightly, you backed away, taking a few small steps, disliking the proximity that he had set.

It felt sinister.

“So it’s true. You’re back then.”

“What do you want, Jason?” You folded your arms, “I’m not here to cause trouble or for revenge or whatever you’ve cooked up in that deluded little mind of yours, I just want to graduate and then move on with my life. ‘kay?”

You didn’t bother with niceties, you knew why he was there, cornering you when you were alone. It seems that Jason didn’t want to either when he grabbed your arm too tightly for your comfort, you knew it would definitely bruise.

“Hey, get off!” You glared, yanking your arm back only for him to pull you much closer than you had been, your breath catching in your throat. “Get off me!”

“Is he here?” He asked, his eyes burning holes into your skull, he gripped your arm tighter when you didn’t respond.

“Is he here?” He persisted.

You scoffed at this, “Of course he’s here, I'm not just going to leave him behind, am I?” Pause. “I’m not you.” You hissed, anger flashing through his eyes.

He started laughing. “Oh real funny, Y/N, how long have you been waiting to use that one? Huh?!” With one swift motion, your back met your locker with such force that it knocked the air out of your lungs.

“Four years, Jason! I’ve-i’ve been keeping that for four fucking years!” You coughed out, a hand on your chest and one on your back for support. “It’s not my fault that your parents think you’re this perfect little son with-with your awards and your scholarships and it is not Ozzy’s fault either!”

You surprised yourself by shoving him. Hard. Surprising yourself further when you raised your hand and struck him across the face, harder than you had initially shoved him as soon as he had moved towards you.

“Stupid bitch,” He growled and placed a hand on his cheek, glancing at the minute amount of blood now on his fingertips.

“That’s it.”

He took a single step and you began to run, desperate to get to your class, to be away from him. You hadn’t realised it but little tear tracks had fallen down your cheeks, glistening from the light that pooled in the corridors from the floor length windows.

“Y/N!”

Gasping when you collided into someone’s chest, you quickly scrambled to get away from them, fearful it was one of Jason’s friends. They’d happily watch him beat the shit out of you after the lies that Jason had told them all when you left Hawkins.

“Y/N?” This voice was much softer, familiar. “You okay?” Coming to, you realised it was Eddie. Relaxing, you nodded briefly, “Fine fine just-just got lost is all, been a while since I was last here, you know, don’t wanna be la—“

“Y/N!”

Your eyes widened fearfully and you quickly shook your head, babbling so fast that you were certain Eddie probably didn’t understand a word of it.

“No, no I am not okay, Jason’s gonna kill me and-and mail my body in pieces, I'm very much not okay, please help! God, Ed, I don't wanna die, I'm so young! and-and I’ve got a lot to live for—!“ You didn’t even realise it but you had grabbed onto his arm protectively, his eyes lingering there for a moment before he cut you off.

Grabbing your hand tightly he hurriedly led you to a janitor's closet that he knew of nearby. When you went to speak, he shushed you silently with a pout, bringing his finger to his lips and closing the door with you inside. Once the door shut, he decided to stand guard, not wanting to take any chances of jeopardising your safety.

You put your hand over your mouth and waited with bated breath when you heard Jason’s voice outside.

“Hey, freak! You seen anyone run down here?”

Both you and Eddie rolled your eyes simultaneously at the unfortunate nickname that the majority of Hawkins had bestowed on the poor metalhead. “Nope,” You heard Eddie pop the p and instantly got anxious. If Jason thought that he was lying, well he definitely wouldn’t hesitate to kick both of your asses.

“Although, I did see a rat run across there so if you lost one of your buddies,” He clicked his tongue and you could just picture the one-shoulder shrug he was almost certainly doing. “It uh went that-a way.”

You couldn’t help but smile from behind your hand, even in your state of terror. He was too great for words.

“You bein’ smart with me, Munson?” You heard Jason’s threatening tone and debated on just coming out of the closet to save poor Eddie from another whooping. It seemed that he knew your exact thought process as he planted his back firmly against the door, leaning his foot up against it, just as you reached for the handle.

“No!” He dragged out the ‘o’ with mock offence, “Yeah okay, maybe I am a bit.” He snickered, you instantly closed your eyes and winced internally. He was going to get beat up and it was all your fault.

“Seriously though, man, no-one’s run past.”

At the retreating footsteps you quietly exhaled in relief, allowing your body the chance to un-tense and your heart rate to return to a normal speed.

“Carver!” You heard him shout and instantly cursed him out under your breath. What was he doing? “You coming to Hellfire tonight? Been invitin’ you and your buddies for ages and you still ain’t showed up! Starting a new campaign, you’re more than welcome to join!”

“Get fucked, freak!”

“Hey, you know where I am!” He called back, and once it was safe to do so, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. When Eddie opened the closet door and saw you doubled over on the ground with tears of laughter falling down your cheeks from him instead of the ones from Jason, he couldn’t help but grin. His boots made a squeak on the linoleum as he slid theatrically into the cupboard, closing it behind him.

Kneeling next to you, he put a hand on your shoulder, testing the waters. You instantly melted into his touch, burying your head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him tightly as if you’d slip away the minute he let go.You’d gotten extremely close with each other after the Halloween party merely a few weeks prior, spending any free time with each other in yours or his trailer.

You weren’t usually a touchy person but when it came to Eddie, it was different. You felt safe, comforted, at peace in his arms.

Yes, he was the oxygen to your fire, fueling you and building you up, encouraging you when perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, but he was more so the newfound sunshine to your thunder. Things could be cold and gloomy and grey, and he’d come and brighten up your world, effortlessly bringing light back into your life after going so long without it.

He kissed the top of your head sweetly, a deep sigh falling from your lips. “You gonna tell me what that was ‘bout?” He mumbled into your hair, pressing yet another kiss on your head, this time to your temple. When you didn’t answer, he rubbed your arm soothingly, muttering softly to you. “You don’t have to say, sweetheart, ‘m sorry.”

Taking a shaky breath you looked up at him, the cheeky glimmer usually in his eyes dimmed with anxiety. Moving away from his chest, you sat next to him, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder as you held his hand tightly.

“He didn’t want me to come back..” You began, your eye contact wavering

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed. “Why not? I didn’t even know you two knew each other. Definitely not well enough for you to have to hide from him in a closet that smells like old farts.”

You laughed humorlessly, bringing your bottom lip in between your teeth again, nibbling on it “Oh, we know each other alright,” Eddie’s confusion became all too apparent so you decided to just say it, to just rip off the band-aid in one go, “He didn’t want me to come back because he’s Ozzy’s dad. And the only people that know that are me, my mom and him—and now you, I guess.”

“Woah..” He puffed his cheeks out and exhaled, a small silence ensued. “You and Carver? Really?”

You nodded, squishing your face up in disgust, wiping the tears that littered your skin. “Ugh, I know, tell me about it, if I could go back and talk to fourteen year old me, I’d tell her to stay the fuck away from him.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out to join in with your disgust and you laughed, despite everything.

“fourteen?” He asked, “You were fourteen when you got pregnant?”

You waited for the judgmental tone in his voice, the shame about to fall on you like a tonne of bricks, crushing everything in sight. The tone that your so called ‘friends’ had used when you’d told them of your pregnancy, the tone your grandparents had used on you, the tone that laced the venomous words that spewed from your own fathers mouth. You closed your eyes waiting for it��but it didn’t come.

“Shit, you must’ve been scared,” You opened your eyes again, blinking and taking in what he had said.

“What?” You murmured quietly

Eddie squeezed your hand comfortingly, “I mean with no-one there to help, you must’ve been.. pretty fuckin’ scared, no?”

“Oh for sure, yeah.” You breathed out, “Don’t even get me started on the morning sickness,—oh and the pimples, god it was legitimately my hormonal hell.” You finish with a laugh, Eddie joining in, “The judgement, the weird looks I got in the hospitals, the bills from the hospital, the racism, the—“

“Racism?” Eddie interjected, a fury in his face that you had never been witness to before, feeling only too grateful to not be on the receiving end of it. “What, in the hospital?”

You nod with a dry laugh. ”Oh yeah, nurses saying they’re not shocked I’m knocked up at fourteen because it’s common in ‘my type’,” You quoted with your fingers for emphasis, “not giving me enough pain relief when I gave birth because they think that we feel pain differently or some bullshit like that?” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s,” His brow furrowed, deep in thought as he tried thinking of the right word, “whack, pure whack.” Miming the swing of a baseball bat—sound effects and all, you both collapsed into a fit of laughter.

You giggled, leaning your head onto his shoulder with a content sigh. The moment shortly ruined as the shrill of the school bell brought you both back to the present situation, turning to look at each other at the same time, both eyes extremely wide.

“Shit!”

“You got Chem next?” Eddie asked, standing and gently pulling you to your feet, helping you steady yourself.

You shook your head sadly, hiking your bag further up your shoulder as the pair of you left the closet. “Nope, sorry, Advanced Calculus.”

He headed in the opposite direction you were going, grinning as he walked backwards to continue facing you. “You’re taking that class willingly? And people say I’m the freak.”

“Oh haha,” You laughed with a playful roll of your eyes. They slowly widened as you realised Eddie had no clue what was behind him.

“Watch out—!” You tried to warn him but it was too late, he’d already tripped over the thin pole that marked the end of one flooring and the beginning of the next. Another bout of laughter overtook you both, subsiding as he groaned in pain, laying flat in the middle of the hallway that was sure to soon be busy and overflowing with impatient peers.

“Hey, Y/N?” He slowly raised his head to look at you as you walked towards him, intending on making sure he wasn’t too badly hurt.

“Uh-huh?”

“What do you say we uh, skip class and go do something else?” His tone was suggestive, if not a bit strained. “Like say..go to the nurses office?” He winced.

“You hit your head, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

[deb-1106]

Forever

Chapter 3

Rating: NSFW  (This Series contains mature themes, depictions of sexual acts including m/m, m/f, and m/m/f, and coarse language)

Pairing: Drake x Liam

Author’s Note: This series is set in an AU where Liam and Drake are in love with one another and there was never a conspiracy against Riley.  This has enough drama without all that Canon nonsense.  :)

Word Count:  2907

“You…and Drake?”  Riley took a deep breath to stave off the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over her.

Liam nodded calmly and took a sip of his scotch.  Now that he’d told her his secret, he felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.  The ball was firmly in Riley's court now.

Riley stood and walked slowly over to the bar.  She grabbed the bottle of scotch and refilled her glass.  With shaking hands, she brought it to her lips and took a long swallow as she replayed their conversation over in her mind, trying to make sense of it all.

“There’s something I must confess before you decide if you truly want to become my wife, my queen…”

“A confession?”  She’d laughed nervously, “Liam, that sounds so serious.”

“I’m afraid it is.  You see, Riley, I’m in love with someone else.”

Riley looked over the rim of her glass, noticing for the first time a third glass sitting on the bar.  The ice cubes had barely melted.

Drake.  His Lover

He’d been in this room with Liam probably only minutes before she’d arrived.  That must’ve been why Liam had looked so flustered when she’d shown up early.

Suddenly the betrayal hit her like a freight train.  

Since the moment they’d met, Liam had been leading her on, romancing her, making her fall in love with him… and lying to her face the entire time.  And Drake…she closed her eyes against the stabbing pain in her chest.  All the heated looks, the accidental touches, the shared moments in between…more lies!

Riley turned to face Liam who had been watching her intently, a look of concern etched on his face.

“You fucking bastard.” She hissed.

“Riley…” He stood quickly and crossed the room until he stood just inches from her.  Her chest was heaving as she fought to control her emotions. Liam reached out for her but she backed away quickly.

“Don’t you DARE touch me!”

“Riley,  please.” Liam’s eyes were filled with sorrow, “Please give me a chance to explain.”

She shook her head.  “What’s there to explain, Liam?  You just told me that you’re in love with Drake!  That you have no intention of ending your relationship with him if we marry.  What more could you possibly have to say to me?”

“None of that changes how I feel about you.  I am truly falling in love with you Riley. Please just take some time and think this over before you make a rash decision.”

“I don’t need time, Liam!” She shouted, slamming her glass down onto the bar, sloshing the contents across the gleaming wood. “There’s no decision to be made. You’re in love with someone else!”

“Riley, be reasonable.  It’s not like I can marry him.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Liam.

“Well, there it is.” She nodded her head, as a harsh laugh escaped her lips, “The real truth at last. I’m just a consolation prize because you can’t have who you really want.”

“No Riley.”  Liam ran his fingers through his hair with a loud sigh, “That’s not it at all.”

“Yes, Liam.  That’s exactly it! I give you the illusion of a modern-day fairy tale to hide behind.  An American girl comes to Cordonia and wins the hand of the handsome King.  He sweeps her off her feet and they live happily ever after. Or do they? Because in this twisted version, the King is more interested in fucking his stable boy than his Queen!”

“Riley.”  Liam’s voice held a warning tone.  But she was way too worked up to care.

“I’m sure you’ll want me to pop out an heir or two to make your bullshit story believable, right?  So I guess a couple times a year I can look forward to you flipping me over and taking me from behind while you pretend I’m Drake!”

“Alright, Riley.  That’s enough.” Liam snapped, his patience at an end, “You’re clearly too overwrought right now to have a rational, adult conversation about this so maybe we should just call it a night.”

“You know what Liam?  Fuck you. You bet your ass I’m overwrought and I have every right to be. But I agree. This conversation is over.  I’m leaving before I say something I can’t take back.” 

Riley turned on her heel and stalked across the room, yanking the door open and sending it crashing closed behind her.

*****

Drake stood with Bastien just outside the ballroom.  They were discussing the coming weeks agenda when he heard a slamming door and the sound of Riley’s heels clicking rapidly across the marble floor.  

He closed his eyes and sighed.  Slamming doors were never a good sign.

Bastien reached out to give Drake a comforting pat on the shoulder and excused himself just as Riley came storming past.

“Matheson,” Drake said, reaching out a hand to stop her.

She whirled on him, her eyes wild. “Get your hand off me you…you…LIAR!”

Drake didn’t let go.  Instead, he reached out with his other hand and turned her to face him.

“I’m sorry…”

“You lied to me, Drake!  You both lied to me! This whole time you’ve been leading me on…using me…playing with my emotions for your own benefit!  Neither of you ever stopped to consider how any of this would affect me!”

“That’s not true Matheson…Riley.  I care about you, Liam cares about you.  The last thing either of us ever wanted to do was hurt you. Our relationship has nothing to do with our feelings for you.”

Riley let out a sharp bark of laughter “You’re absolutely delusional if you really believe that.”

She pulled away from him.  

“Riley, wait…” Drake reached for her again.  

The second she felt his hand on her arm she whirled on him, pulling her arm back and swinging as hard as she could. Her fist caught him square in the mouth.  

“Oww.” She whimpered, cradling her hand, as tears of anger and frustration rolled down her cheeks.

Drake reached out and took her hand in his.  He gently curled her fingers into a fist.

He raised his eyes to hers slowly and she could see her pain mirrored in their depths

“Don’t tuck your thumb next time.” he said softly, “You’ll break it.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her bruised knuckles before releasing her and walking away.

Riley pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs that were bubbling to the surface as she watched him leave.  

She turned and fled down down the hallway to the safety of her bedroom.

*******

Liam was sitting on the couch, his head buried in his hands when Drake walked in.

“So…” Drake said as he collapsed into the chair opposite Liam,  “I take it things didn’t go quite as expected.”

Liam lifted his head and scrubbed his face with his hands.  “Actually, it went just about exactly how I expected it would.”  

He heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at Drake, his frown deepening suddenly.

“What happened to you?”

“Oh, I ran into Riley in the hall.” Drake’s tongue darted out, touching the corner of his mouth.  He tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood and gave Liam a rueful smile. “She has a surprisingly good right hook.”

“Jesus,” Liam swore as he stood and crossed to the bar.  He threw some ice into a linen napkin and brought it over to Drake.  He crouched in front of him, pressing the ice to Drake’s mouth.

He flinched slightly. “Hey.”

“Sorry,” Liam said as their eyes locked  He reached out to brush his finger lightly over the cut on his bottom lip.

“She got you pretty good.” he murmured.  

Drake nodded as he turned his head into Liam’s touch.  His lips parted and he drew Liam’s thumb into his mouth, sucking on it gently.  Liam’s breath hitched in his throat as Drake swirled his tongue around his thumb in lazy circles before dragging his teeth gently across the soft pad.  

Drake smiled when he saw the unmistakable longing in Liam’s eyes.

“You always do this.”  Liam said softly.

“Do what?”

“Try to distract me when I’m upset.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, and it’s not going to work this time.”

Drake gave him a slow, sexy smirk, “Oh, I think it’s already working.”

He reached out to weave his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Liam’s neck, pulling him slowly forward until he felt Liam’s hot breath against his lips. Drake let his gaze fall to Liam’s mouth for a moment before lifting his eyes to meet his burning stare.  With a groan Liam closed the gap between them, crashing his lips onto Drakes.

He brought one hand up to tug Drake's hair as they kissed hungrily.  Drakes slid his tongue into Liam’s mouth, caressing his tongue with a heady slowness that only served to increase Liam’s excitement.  

This is what Drake did to him.  Two minutes ago he’d been distraught…worried that he was on the cusp of losing the woman he loved forever.  Then Drake arrived…looking at him in that way he has, touching him the way he does….and suddenly nothing mattered but the taste of Drake’s tongue in his mouth, the feel of his hands on his body, the scent of him filling his nostrils. It’s the way it’s always been with them.

Liam leaned forward, pressing Drake against the back of the chair as his free hand slid slowly up Drake's thigh until the palm of his hand was pressed tightly against his hard cock.  Drake sucked in his breath and sunk his teeth into Liam’s bottom lip, gently tugging on it. Liam felt a surge of white-hot desire course through his body and tightened his fingers around Drake's length until he groaned.

Kneeling between his legs, Liam looked up and they locked eyes.  Slowly he unbuttoned Drake's jeans and unzipped them. He lifted his hips obligingly as Liam yanked his pants and boxer briefs to his ankles.

Then his hot mouth was on him.  Drake threw his head back and groaned as he slid his fingers into Liam’s hair and gripped tight.  After a moment, he forced his eyes open to watch as Liam’s mouth worked him.

He loved the way his cock looked sliding over Liam’s full lips, the way his warm, wet tongue swirled around the head of his dick before he sucked it back into his mouth.

Drake’s fingers tightened in Liam’s hair as he gently thrust in and out of his mouth.

Liam moaned around his cock.  He loved the way Drake felt in his mouth, he loved the taste of him, the smell of him.  

He reached up, sinking his fingers into Drake’s ass cheeks, dragging him further into his throat.  

“Fuck, Li,” Drake moaned, “You’re killing me.”

Liam pulled back and looked up at him, smiling playfully.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck, no,” Drake answered as he pushed at Liam’s lips with the blunt tip of his cock.  “Don’t ever fucking stop.”

Liam felt his own cock swell when he heard the need in Drake’s voice.  Using his hand like a vice, Liam worked the base of Drake's cock with his fist as he lashed the slit with his tongue. He ran the flat of his tongue from the base of Drake’s balls all the way up his length, swirling his tongue around the head, relishing the taste of the salty precome that was beading on his tip.

“You taste so fucking good” He moaned before taking him fully into his mouth until he felt Drake hit the back of his throat

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come,” he groaned.

Liam bobbed up and down on his cock until Drake abruptly pushed him away.

Startled, Liam stumbled backward, catching himself with his hands just before he hit the ground. He looked up at Drake questioningly.

“Bedroom.  Now.” He ordered.

Liam gave him a slow smile as he got to his feet.   Outside these walls he was the King of Cordonia…but in here, when it was just the two of them, he liked relinquishing power.  It turned him like nothing else when Drake took control.

Drake kicked his jeans to the side and was already pulling his T-shirt over his head as he followed Liam into his bedroom chamber.

“Strip.” He commanded.

Liam unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the ground.  Then his hand went to his jeans.

Drake caught his bottom lip between his teeth and began stroking himself as he watched Liam slide his jeans from his hips and kick them away.

He’d seen Liam naked more times than he could count, but every time he was taken aback by the pure perfection of his body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Drake reached out and pulled Liam close, fitting their hips together as they shared hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses.  Liam’s hands roamed over Drakes strong, muscled arms and across his broad shoulders.

“Says the man built like a Greek God”

Drake laughed as he slid his hands down Liam’s back until he was cupping his ass with both hands, pulling him even closer, grinding their pelvises together.

Liam gasped, his breath hot in Drakes ear.  “Please, Drake”

Drake pulled his head back and gazed down at Liam, a sexy smirk on his face.

“Please … what?”

“You know what I want.” Liam moaned.

“Yeah, I do.” Drake agreed, sliding his hand over Liam’s hip, “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Fine.” Liam said breathlessly, “I want you to fuck me.  Happy now?”

“Fucking delirious” He growled as he claimed Liam’s lips in another bruising kiss.

He broke the kiss abruptly and slapped Liam on the ass.

“Get on the bed.”

Liam did as he was told.

“On your knees.”

Liam knelt in the middle of his bed, waiting.  After what felt like forever he felt the hard wall of Drake's chest pressed against his back,  Drake’s arm encircled his chest, pulling him tightly against him. His warm breath caressed Liam’s ear as his throbbing cock pressed against the small of his back.  Liam shivered in anticipation as Drake took his free hand and grasped his dick, running it tantalizingly up and down the crack of Liam’s ass.

Liam moaned and pushed back against him eagerly.  He felt Drake pressing at his entrance and felt a thrill of anticipation.

“Are you ready for me?” Drake whispered, dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin behind Liam's ear.

“God, yes.” He moaned

Drake pushed in slowly, inch by inch giving Liam time to adjust to the intrusion.

“Fuck that feels good.” He groaned as he bucked back against Drake.

It was all the encouragement Drake needed.  He started thrusting deep and hard, setting an unrelenting pace.

He held Liam tightly against him with one arm, dragging his teeth over his neck, nipping at his skin as he pounded into him.  With his other arm, he reached around and grasped Liam’s stiff cock in his hand, stroking it in time with his thrusts

“Yes, oh fuck,  Drake!” Liam cried.  Having Drake's cock buried inside of him while his hand jacked him was pushing him quickly to the edge.  He knew he wasn’t going to last long.

Drake groaned loudly.  He could tell Liam was getting close.  His movements had become erratic as he thrust into Drake’s fist.

“Come for me.” Drake purred into his ear.

That snapped the last vestige of Liam’s control.  Drake’s name spilled from his lips as he erupted into Drake’s hand and onto the bed below them.

Drained, Liam slumped forward as Drakes’ fingers tightened on his hips.  He pumped into Liam furiously until he felt the familiar tightening in his balls.

With his lips on Liam’s throat, he thrust deeply and held, groaning his name as he exploded into him until he was spent.

Drake pulled out and flipped onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he caught his breath.

He felt the bed shift next to him as Liam turned to his side.  Drake could feel his eyes on him.

Drake grinned, “You’re welcome.”

He heard Liam’s low chuckle.  “For what, exactly?”

Drake raised his arm and and turned to Liam with a smirk. “For distracting you.”

“That you did.”  Liam sighed and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.  “It didn’t solve our problem though.”

“It solved one of them.”

“I’m serious Drake.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Riley was on the next flight out of Cordonia.  She was so upset…so hurt.”

“Yeah.” Drake agreed with a deep sigh, “Maybe she just needs some time.  It’s kind of a lot to process.”

Liam nodded.  “Yes, I suppose it it.  I’ll let her cool off tonight and maybe tomorrow we can go talk to her…together.”

*****

After her encounter with Drake in the hallway, Riley headed straight to her room, tears flowing down her cheeks.  She threw open her door and went to her closet, dragging out her battered suitcase. Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, she threw it open and started tossing her things inside.

“So how’d it go?” said an excited voice behind her, “Tell me everything!”

Riley whirled around to find a beaming Maxwell standing in her doorway.  His smile faded quickly as he took in her red, swollen eyes and tear-stained face.

“Riley…” He said softly, “What is it?”

“Oh, Maxwell…” Riley buried her face in her hands as the tears started anew.  Maxwell stepped forward, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

“Shhhh.” He crooned, stroking her hair gently, “Don’t cry little blossom”

Maxwell just held her, patting her back, letting her cry until she didn’t have any tears left.  With a final shuddering sob, she pulled away and gave him a small, watery smile.

“I’m okay,” she said more to herself, than to Maxwell. “I’ll be fine.”

Maxwell took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting her down on the edge.  He cast a worried look at her open suitcase.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Riley closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly.  She still couldn’t make herself believe it.

Maxwell sat next to her, taking her hands in his, stroking her swollen knuckles with his thumb.

“Hana told me Liam asked you to his room for a private dinner tonight.”

Riley nodded her head.

Maxwell pushed down a sudden surge of anger.  “Did you argue?”

He looked down at her swollen hand and feared the worst.

He had a hard time forcing the next words past his lips, “Liam didn’t… hurt you did he?”

Maxwell held his breath as he waited for the answer.  He couldn’t ever imagine Liam being anything other than a perfect gentleman, but they’d been all alone in his room and clearly something terrible had happened.

Riley shook her head vehemently, “No, Maxwell, of course not.  It was nothing like that. He told me…He said…”

She burst into tears all over again.  Maxwell reached for her but she pulled away quickly and started pulling clothes from her closet.

“I can’t stay here.  I have to go home.”

“No, Riley!  You can’t.” He picked up the dresses that she’d just thrown into her suitcase and brought them back to the closet, hanging them back up.  Riley pulled a drawer from her dresser and overturned it directly into the suitcase. When she turned around to grab another drawer, Maxwell scooped up the clothes.  He was about to put them back into the drawer when she turned and caught him with an armful of her bras and panties.

“Maxwell, what the hell are you doing?”

Maxwell looked down at the lacy underthings in his hands and dropped them onto the bed quickly.  “Riley, you can’t leave!”

“I have to, Maxwell.  I can’t stay here. Not now.  Not after…”

She trailed off, shaking her head.

“Not after what Riley?  What the heck happened tonight?”

Riley took a deep breath.  “He told me…”

As angry as she was, she didn’t want to expose Liam and Drake’s relationship. She wasn’t sure if it was a secret, but she’d never heard any mention of it in the time she’d been in Cordonia.  

“He told me he’s in love with someone else.”

“Oh, little Blossom.” Maxwell said, pulling her back into his arms, “No.  I can’t believe that.  Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”

“No.  Absolutely no misunderstanding.”

“But I really thought…I mean, everyone thought, that you were the one he’d choose.”  He pulled back, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face, “Is it Olivia?  Please don’t tell me it’s Olivia. He simply can not marry a Nevrakis!”

“It’s not Olivia.” Riley said quietly.

Maxwell fell silent as he studied Riley intently, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Oh.”

There was something in his tone that struck Riley as odd.

“Maxwell?” She said, rising from the bed to face him.  

He avoided her gaze.

“Maxwell!” She said sharply

He raised his eyes guiltily.

“Oh my God.” She said her voice a hoarse whisper, “You knew.  You brought me here to marry him and you knew.” A renewed sense of betrayal washed over her.  “Who else knows Maxwell? Am I the only idiot in all of Cordonia that didn’t know the King was fucking his best friend?!”

“No!” Maxwell said, “I didn’t know, not really.  I mean, there have been rumors for years but I never really believed it…” His voice trailed off

“Well, it’s confirmed now.”  She said bitterly, “Straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Wow.” Maxwell said, his cheeks staining pink, “That explains so much about all those camping trips…”

Riley let out a frustrated groan and started throwing clothes in her suitcase again.

“NO!”  Maxwell jumped in front of the suitcase with his arms spread wide. “Please don’t go.”

“What’s the point in staying Maxwell? There’s nothing left for me here.”

“But why, Riley?  Why does this have to change anything?”

Riley whirled on him, her eyes blazing, “Are you insane, Maxwell? This changes EVERYTHING!”

Maxwell rubbed her arm comfortingly, “I know you’re upset right now, little blossom.  But take some time to really think about this. I know that you care deeply for Liam…” He gave her a knowing look, “And for Drake too.”

Riley crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to confirm what they both knew was true.

“This might actually end up being the best thing that could have happened to you.”

Riley looked at him like he’d lost his mind, “In what possible way could this be a good thing?”

“Think about it Ri.  You were so torn between them.  But now…” Maxwell shrugged his shoulders, “they’re kind of a package deal.  You don’t have to choose anymore.”

“But Maxwell…They’re together.”

Maxwell shook his head.  “They might hook up sometimes, and they definitely care for each other, but I know beyond a doubt that they both…um…enjoy the company of women.”  He waggled his brows at Riley, “Like really enjoy women…a lot…and often.”

Riley frowned at Maxwell.  “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better…or worse.”

“I’m just saying Riley, really think about this.  I know you’re angry right now, and I don’t blame you.  But don’t make a rash decision.” 

 He put his hand on Riley's shoulder and squeezed gently.  “You could be one of the lucky few who can have their cake…and eat it too.”

[jakebark]

Welp, it doesn't matter how traumatizing the previous trial was the show must go on. Or the next trial, in this case.

As soon as the match started there was a horrid screech, different than the nurse or Demogorgon. That couldn't be a good sign.

Especially not when the sound or eerily chiming bells reached Jake's ears. Or when a bloody snarling man rounded the corner without warning, nearly on top of Jake, not sparing a moment to strike him down. @ask-the-dweets

Jake was ready to take a break from the trials, especially after the last two, but the trials were evidently not ready to take a break from him. The fog cleared and he was standing at the base of a hill in the wreckyard. Only a few seconds passed, enough for him to register where exactly he was and to take a step—he was, at least, blessed to have only two legs in this trial—before a bloodcurdling shriek pierced the sky and he flinched instinctively, hair standing on end.

The screech wasn’t one he’d heard before, and that only put him more on edge. The last two Killers had been new, too. Things came in threes, and it wasn’t hard to guess what this third might be.

He looked around, unable to see any movement from his vantage point, before seeking out a nearby generator, tucked within a corner in a structure of high walls of crushed machinery. Jake slid in next to the generator but he didn’t have time to start before he could hear the quiet, rhythmic jingling of bells. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. His mouth felt dry. Him too, huh? Most likely. The bells sounded distant, but like they came from no-where in particular—like the Huntress’ humming. They just filled the air, ever-present, and no heartbeat warned him. The only warning he got was the sound of a footstep and a much more violent rattling of bells. A vestigial muscle in his ear twitched and tense.

Jake was on his feet, starting to run, before he’d finished registering the sound. He spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own legs, clumsily catching his balance and cursing his lack of muscle memory. His goal was the window to relative safety on the far side of the structure and Jake didn’t dare look behind him. It didn’t matter either way. He only made it a few steps before the Killer slammed into him like a freight train and they both went down. Splintering pain blossomed in his side as he hit the ground on his shoulder and rolled, kicking his attacker in the face with the heel of his boot before he got to his feet, scrambling over the window and holding his side, already beginning to bleed into his clothing.

Jake looked back, his own heart racing, at his opponent. It was Elf, no doubt. Even in the silvery haze of the moonlight and the blur of movement, he could tell it was Elf. The same pointed ears, if drooped. His clothes were the same. But he—he was not. He, like the others, had been… changed. Warped, badly. Painfully. “El—” Jake started, then caught himself. He could try to talk while he ran, even though it probably wouldn’t do any good. It hadn’t with Pizza, for sure. But Pizza was—he was different. Elf, for all his bullshit, pulled through just about anything. “Dwight—what the hell happened to you? You—are you even still—?”

[stealthboy43]

The long night arc: Part 7

OC's by @limeinaltime and @edibletrees2

Art/ Written by @stealthboy43

M.O.M: Reinforcements

BOOM!!

The missle slammed into the side of her head, her vision becoming clouded with the bright glow of fire which was then snuffed out by a dark plume of smoke

Caught of balance, the scythe she had swung had missed Uzi and N, but M.O.M was too infuriated to notice.

Who did that?! Where did it come from?!

Then she heard the roar coming from above her.

INCOMING MISSILES DETECTED

She looked up and sure enough there was a barrage of them, heading straight her way like a swarm of angry wasps.

On pure instinct alone, M.O.M. swung her scythes in their direction.

BOOM! BOOM BOOM!

In an instant, they all disappeared, replaced by small fiery plumes which dissipate and add to the already dust-filled air.

She scanned the air again to make sure there were no more, and the feedback came back empty.

Now time to figure out what brats shot those…

ANALYSIS MODE

The missiles were not long-range, which means that whoever did it was close. And they had to be a disassembly or assassination drone. They weren’t heat-seeking either, meaning if they came from above, the shooter was above. But for so many to be fired at once…

I see. It appears the cavalry have arrived…

SCANNING AREA

DETECTION: North 17°, 300ft elevation, 5 targets

“Gotcha…”

.

M: Being part of the cavalry blows.

10 minutes earlier

M had been relaxing watching the planets two moons rise. He was sitting on demolished vehicle, probably a van of some unknown brand. Eko, V, 0, and 21 were still back at the clearing, practicing their new techniques they had developed.

M however needed a break from all the annoying commands by Eko, and the terrifying thing that was V. 0 and 21 were ok, and A was, well, he was A.

 It was a rare moment of calm these past few days;  usually they were filled with nothing but stress, training and planning for the upcoming confrontation. 

Even in the small comedic and heartwarming and flatout irritating moments, which mostly included loud arguments which then had to be broken with with force, there was always the unspoken dread wich poked at their minds which was impossible to ignore.

Sure, everything seemed fine now, they could laugh and argue and act like the kids they could never be when they were younger.

Yet the tumor that was dread grew with every passing day, the tension and anticipation building like water blocked by a dam. And that dam would break some day. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, sometime.

And what will you do when it happens? What can you do when it happens?

M smacked his head. There it was again. M always had that small whisper every now and again, flaring up more times than others.

Yet with every day that went by it always seems to be speaking louder, more clearly.

“Hiya, watcha doing?”

M turned around to see who it was, but of course that voice was unmistakable.

It was his boyfriend A.

“N-nothing, just thinking..”

“Oh I see.W-well you know what woul look god with your thoughts? Me!” He said with an awkward smile.

But M couldn’t help but smile.

“ Oh I don’t need to do that.” He said

“Eh?” A said with a perplexed face.

M then spread his lips into a mischievous smile “You know… because youve never left my mind.”

A still wore his cute confused face, but when the realization hit him of what it meant, it seemed as if a freight train that had lost its brakes slammed into him.

“HUH!? HUUUUHHH!?!?”

A’s face erupted into a furry of yellow stripes as the blush flared so fast that if M had blinked he would have missed the transition.

M still had his mouth spread into a smile, not of mischief anymore but more of a amused smirk as A continued to panic at M’s comment.

“Where are they?!?” A sudden yell from behind them ceased the mood. It was Eko.

M naturally felt the feeling of annoyance, but then it was replaced by an awareness.

The voice didn’t sound annoyed or angry or something like that. It sounded distressed, an emotion that wasint common within Eko.

This realization got M off his bottom, and looked back to where the voice was, scanning the snow covered street in front of him.

“M, A, GET OVER HERE NOW!”

Then he saw Eko, her dark blue hair and coat blowing in the small wind, her eyes glowing a neon blue that shone with distress. In one hand she held her sniper rifle, the other cupped on her mouth as she continued calling for them

“A, come on, something’s up!” 

A meanwhile had not heard Ekos voice, still caught up in the flustered emotions, but snapped out of it as M unveiled his wings to quickly fly over to Eko.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going!?”

M landed next to Eko, who turned and to him and looked at him with minor annoyance.

“There you are, you just had to go and rest this far Huh?”

“Ok now that’s an exaggeration, I was only a couple hundred feet away.”

Eko looked past him to see A who was running up behind M, suddenly collapsing on the floor in exhaustion

“Did you… have to… make me… run?”

“You can fly you know…” Eko said bluntly.

“Oh yeah.” A had clearly forgotten about that.

“But never mind that, we gotta go!” Eko said. 

“Go?” M asked “Go where?”

“Where do you think?” She said Grimly

Eko pulled a device out of her pocket.

The small mechanical tool, barely bigger than a baseball, gave out rythmicc irritating beeps which would be accompanied by red flash from a small light bulb.

It was the beacon.

The Dam had broken today afterall.

***

Present time

OH FUCK!! Was the initial thought M had when he saw the black slashes speeding their way.

A couple seconds ago, everything seemed perfectly fine, calm even.

M was high in the air, having just transition from a missile launcher back to his hand.

The first part of their quickly crafted plan was done: Distract M.O.M by getting her attention, and pellting her with missiles was reasoned to be the most efficient trick.

Along with him was V, 7, 0, and A. Eko and 21 were on the ground reading the next part.

But M, seeing how calm it seemed, thought that maybe they ahd killed her, or that she didnt care enough to attack them now.

That was until the black dots he had noticed quickly grew larger.

***

M quickly flapped in wings in a panic; without much time to think, he flung himself to the right to get out of the way of the oncoming black blade. He got out of the way, only to be in the direct path of dozens more.

M tried to flap his wings, just to get himself high and buy himself more time to get out of their way, but the slashes were just too fast and he felt the striking pain in his shoulder. 

But it wasint the pain like a blade slicing him, more of like getting hit in the side by a hammer. M was propelled to the side, turning his eyes to at least cath a glance at who or what had just shoved him aside. She had short silver hair and neon yellow eyes which were alert and focused at the slashes. It was V.

While M was still trying to get himself balanced in the air again, V in a heartbeat switched her hands to her blades, and almost elegantly swung away at the slashes.

SLASH SLASH SLASH

Her blades sharper then a sword and stronger than steel cut away at them, splashing harmlessy by her before gravity took the black droplets and fell.

And while V was in his eyesight, in his peripheral was 7.

She wasint as great at precision, but 7 was a hell of a good flyer. She continuously dodged the waves of black, flapping and turning her wings and shifting her limbs to avoid the blades.

Even 0 was managing to hold his own, though the slashes still scrapped his plating, small streams of the oil leaking out.

And M was doing nothing.

What can you do? It was the whisper in his head.

 You want to give M.O.M a shakespear style play? Wanna put on a show and wait for the applause to come like in your fantasies where your actually useful and fulfilling? 

M hovered there. If not for his auditory function telling his wings to keep him afloat, he would be falling down to the cold surface of copper 9.

What could he do? He wasint strong like the projects, flexible and a perfect flyer  like 7.

Nothing, he could do nothing.

Nothing, nothing, noth-

“AGH!”

 The pained and terrified yelp attracted his eyes. 

And what he saw was more terrifying than even M.O.M.

It was a terrified A, fear in his eyes as he was struggling to dodge any of the slashes.

M didnt even think, it was pure instinct.

He flapped his wings and darted towards A.

Suddenly he didnt care about getting hit or slashed. He didnt care about the surprised faces on V or 7 or 0. He didnt care.

Suddenly all he cared about was making sure A didnt die.

M put himself in front of A and flapped his wings foward.

The first few blades slammed against his wings, drenching him in the black goo. But soon he was forced to unblock to stay afloat. Still he took out his blades and slashes away at the blades.

He wasint able to cut at all of them. He would be cut and wounded. But he didnt care.

‘M your-” A gasped.

“Just keep behind me!” M yelled, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Eko, 21! Please for the love of god, hurry up!!

Eko: Target engaged

Eko was the one who came up with the plan.

From what X had told her about M.O.M from their shared connection, she was the perfect creation.

M.O.M wasint just a stupidly strong drone who also was a lunatic, which was a bad combination within itself. M.O.M was also stupidly smart. 

M.O.M was the most AI out of any AI. The drones who had gained sentience did have some AI factors, though a majority had the same senses as ordinary humans. Even the disassembly drones, who were bred as expert hunters and add advanced location systems, were limited in their ability.

M.O.M was a whole different story.

Advanced motion detection, Infrared, Night vision, heightened hearing,  GPS, even google maps. And of course M.O.Ms three neon eyes were just a ruse like the all the murder drones. She really had more, she didnt know how much, but she had alot.

All of them able to focus on a target and analyize them to find the best way to counter them.

Essentially, M.O.M was the ultimate multitasker.

But there was a flaw to her, and it wasint like a bug or anything. It was her personality.

M.O.M has a HUGE god complex.

M.O.M thought she was perfect, the pinnacle of technological achievement, physically incable of making any mistake.

Thus, if they distracted her just a bit, there was a chance she and 21 could sneak in close. She had 21 because her invisibility would act as another cover just incase. But they still had to hurry.

The team in the sky seemed like they were holding well now, but Eko knew it was only a matter of time before M.O.M got the better of them.

But the distraction worked, M.O.M hadint detected her or 21 who was on the ground and Eko who had up the walls on the outside of the warehouse and sneaked her way in though one of the many holes in the ceiling and roof.

She jumped onto one of the beams of the rafters and looked to the ground.

There was Uzi and N, Uzi was on his back clutching for dear life, and N looking like we had been though hell. Cuts and scraped littered his body, a nasty looking gash on his side which was leaking oil. 

Then she looked to M.O.M and-

And then something happened which never happens to Eko.

She looked to M.O.M, and she became scared.

M.O.M didnt just look a little scary, M.O.M looked terrifying.

Tall, menacing, the black goo of the void showing its ominous prescence.

She took her fifle and aimed at M.O.M.

And she did nothing.

What are you waiting for? Shoot.

But her finger refused to press down on the trigger. The fear just wouldnt allow it.

M.O.M hasint noticed her yet. She could easily just leave. She could just climb out and sneak away. She could hide as M.O.M killed everyone else and hide so M.O.M wouldnt find her and make M.O.M think she had got everyone.

Easily, so easil-

M.O.M swung her arm noticeably faster and fiercer, and her scythe crashed into the ground in front of N, a move he did not see coming and he was flown back.

What the actual FUCK are you thinking right now!?

Eko mentally snapped at herself. Like hell she was going to do that. She was half assed if she even attempted it. Nope.

She shoved the fear into the pit of her stomach. She couldnt afford to be scared. She would deal with being scared later.

“How sad, even after your friends up there came you still have to die like this.” M.O.M said to the helpless looking N and Uzi.

Over my ass you sociopatheic freak! Eko yelled in her head.

She aimed and pulled the trigger and-

M.O.M: Target enraged

Clink

The metallic clink of the bullet against her felt like nothing more than a pebble. She didnt take notice at first, Instead preparing to attack N and Uzi so she could fully concentrate on the mosquitos in the sky.

Crack! Clink. Crack! Clink.

More of the bullets berated her back, and M.O.M turned to see where these pebbles were coming from.

Looking up, she saw a worker drone among the rafters.

Actually wait- that wasint a worker, it was one of those core drones.

So they have some more help, how pitiful.

M.O.M swung her arm and her scythe shot in the direction of the core drone. M.O.M then put her focus back on attacking the drones in the sky, and the other two in the warehouse.

Crack! Clink.

A bullet had been fired again, this time hitting her directory on her visor. The bullet didnt crack it, though it momentarely obscured her vision. Both confused and irritated, M.O.M focused one of her three eyes in the rafters. There was a giant hole in the ceiling from where her scythe had struck, small snow flakes trickling though. Where was the-

Again, the bullet smacked against the glass, and the eye darted to where the bullet had been fored, and there she was again, in a different location among the rafters.

the core drone fired her rifle once more just as M.O.M had swung her scythe again. Again, M.O.M had missed.

Last time may have been a fluke on her part, but there was no way M.O.M could have missed again. She attacked  and swung her scythe again, and again, again.

But the continuos spray of bullets always gave the cover the core drone needed. They were so precise and accurate it was almost incredible, and that stupid drone could fire them even while dodging such fast attacks.

M.O.M was quickly growing from irritated to angry, and she decided to spare one of her arms to attack the little pest. 

Again, she swung, again she was temporielly blinded, again she missed.

Thats it! She thought with anger.

M.O.M unleashed her black slashes up to the ceiling, the projectiles crashing into the ceiling, splitting and crushing the rafters like they were twigs, and parts of the ceiling crumble down. The core drone was visibly caught off guard, but quickly reacted, jumping between and even on some of the debris.

But she was moving slower and couldnt fire at her again. M.O.M tried taking the opportunity to finish of the drone for good.

But she was interrupted again, not by the core drone, but instead by a missile which slammed into her side. Her eyes darted everywhere, scrambling to find what had happened.

Where did that come from!?! She thought angrily.

That missile was ground level, someone fired it In here!!

But she could not see anything. It was like the missile appeared out of thin away.

WHAM! SHe was once again slammed by another one, this time from a different direction. She turned and again no one there.

It was then she realized Uzi and N were gone.

M.O.M wasint just angry anymore. She was furious.

“STOP WITH THESE PATHETIC TRICKS YOU WEAKLINGS!!!!”

Incoming target

M.O.M looked up in shock. She had become too distracted, and allowed those drones in the sky to get closer.

One flew in the warehouse. It had cyan eyes which glowed a neon color, her black tail ending in a sizable blade which too was glowing. 

Its one of those projects She realized.

Before M.O.M could react, the drone spun around and swung her tail, and a wave of cyan liquid barreled twords M.O.M.

M.O.M lefted her arm to shield herself just as the cyan liquid, which she quicklydiscerned were nanites, splashed on her.

In retaliation, M.O.M attempted to swing her scythe at her, but suddenly her joints became stiff.

Looking at them, she saw Ice begin to form on her, growing on her joints and making them hard.

I see. These nanites must be able to create ice like liquid nitrogen.

The other drones soon poured into the warehouse, and seeing her partially incapacitated, they took their opportunity.

M.O.M was pellted by missiles, machine gun fire, and sniper bullets.

Soon her glass began to crack and her metal plating was getting dented.

M.O.M by now had calmed down.

Well then. I suppose I need to get a little serious.

Next part, M.O.M gets serious…

The Emotions of M.O.M

[avizare]

I know I just posted about Befana but Marinette's Grandma is almost exactly like my Aunt, if you tacked on another 15 years and a leather jacket and did away with the Aussie accent, and the whiplash I felt as soon as she entered the room hit me like a freight train.

And as soon as the freight train had passed over me, Marinette opened her present and the train clocked it in reverse and ran straight over me again. A strange gift picked up from two continents away and given to you with barely a second thought?

I felt that hard. By the time I was sixteen she just started asking me what I wanted, thank whatever-god/s-you-may-or-may-not-worship.

She always managed to find the best chocolate, though. Shitty candy but good chocolate. The perfect gift for my lactose-intolerant-ass.

Edit: Never makes family plans but when she does it upturns EVERYTHING? This is literally my aunt, what the heck?! I don't even journal; where'd they get the material?!

Edit again: *slams head against table* The distant aunt guilt-trip. Oh God, she's just- this episode is just hitting me where it hurts.

Edit AGAIN: I'm 8 1/2 minutes in and I'm in hysterics. It just keeps getting better/worse. On a side note, if I had friends like Marinette does, maybe I wouldn't have my pathological hatred of (my own) birthdays. Girl's doing well for herself.

Also, sorry Aunty [redacted]. Your exotic candies taste like my boot smells after a Saturday dinner shift, and I'm glad you got the subtle hint to stop getting them without the emotional turmoil Gina is suffering. Anyway... akuma time. What out-of-pocket line has Gabriel got for us today? *unpauses*

"What could be more powerful than a grandmother deserted by her own granddaughter? Perfect fodder for disappointment and misunderstanding."

*pauses* There it is.

Yet another damn edit: WHY DOES SHE HAVE A REVOLVING BLUNDERBUSS?! And why does she look like if the Wicked Witch of the West ran in a biker gang? I love both of these things but I desperately want to know the thought process behind them.

On a side note, Adrien pulling out Plagg and saying "the party's over, my friend" like an action hero is everything to me. Let him have more cool lines. And Befana dropping "you will look wonderful in white, my pretty kitty" like yes mam, he does, but it doesn't suit-

SHE'S FILLING THE BLUNDERBUSS/REVOLVER WITH CANDIES I LOVE THIS DAMN SHOW!!!

Okay last one maybe probably not:

Marinette: *casually kills her grandmother*

Marinette: *giggles*

Why haven't I just been making reblogs of this post instead of- oh whatever.

[luminnara]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega!reader part one 18+ only

Summary:  When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Warnings: NSFW, knotting, abo, smut, mild dubcon

Request are OPEN! I would love to write more Bucky stuff!

Also posted on AO3

Part one | Part Two | Part three | 

In a world full of massive, snarling, strong alphas, nobody wanted to use something as small and physically weak as an omega to do war. Omegas were better suited for other things, like nurturing, and giving life. The alphas were the ones who fought and maimed and killed and protected and hunted. It wasn’t even until relatively recently that omegas even had many rights in the modern world, and there were still plenty of traditionalists who stuck to the old ideals. Omegas were for breeding and claiming and little more. Though those ideas were fading, there would always be those who believed that there were things omegas couldn’t and shouldn’t do--

And fighting was at the top of that list. 

Omegas weren’t built for it. They were sturdy, sure, to help them withstand the ruts of big alphas who couldn’t control themselves, but they were generally small, and, many believed, unable to fend for themselves. Their role, their purpose, was to be claimed and bred by big strong alphas, and that was that. It made sense; after all, someone needed to stay and care for the pups, or else there would be little chance of survival. Throughout most of history, survival wasn’t something that was ever guaranteed, and having a secondary gender that was intended for rearing offspring greatly increased the likelihood that pups would make it to adulthood. Alphas were bigger and stronger, natural leaders, always ready to fight and defend their territory and their pack, and omegas were always there to carry the young. 

And that was that. Omegas weren’t meant to be warriors. Their only place on the battlefield was in the medic tent, where they could tend to wounded alphas and betas. It was nearly unheard of in many places for there to be omega soldiers, even infantry. 

Until the twentieth century. 

The catastrophic proportions of both World Wars brought with them an all hands on deck mentality. In the states, male omegas were being drafted along with the others, newly-invented heat and rut suppressants meaning that they could all work together without the danger of blunders thanks to anyone’s natural cycle. Back home, not only were alpha and beta women suddenly flooding the workforce while the men were overseas, but omegas were joining them. It was unprecedented, and began to change many minds. Maybe omegas were useful for more than incubators. Maybe they could work.

They still weren’t the best choice for hands on, tactical things, though. While there were omegas in the army, they rarely became officers, because who was going to want to listen to them? They weren’t natural born fighters, and they were hardwired to obey alphas. They were better as battle fodder, extras to pad out the numbers. They certainly weren’t anyone’s first choice for special missions or programs.

Well...almost anyone’s.

When HYDRA got their soldier and programmed his brain, they were pleased. The big alpha, James Buchanan Barnes, had survived the super soldier serum, and with his mind wiped and his old life far away from him, he was the perfect assassin. The Winter Soldier was strong, well trained, and easy to control, when given the proper commands. The serum made him practically unkillable, and he had the speed and strength to rival that annoying Captain America. 

Unfortunately, the serum also made his ruts much harder to suppress. HYDRA would never permit him to settle down with an omega, of course not...but an omega was the only thing that could ease his rut cycle. Without one, he could spend a week snarling and pining, absolutely useless. With one, he was only out of the field for a few days. Until they could develop better suppressants, their only solution was to give him an omega. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t very good at surviving him. 

He didn’t like any of them, not really. He never meant to kill them, never really tried, but HYDRA had a habit of starving the poor things before they tossed them into the lion’s den, and they just couldn’t keep up. The soldier used them to alleviate his ruts, always mechanical in his movements, and that was that. 

HYDRA didn’t particularly care whether the omegas lived or died, but they did reach a point where it was getting to be a bit ridiculous to catch so many for their soldier. Someone along the way had the bright idea to simply make a stronger omega, one who could withstand their asset’s forcefulness. Giving the serum to an omega was such a ridiculous idea that it just might work, and so they did, and oh, did they get lucky with the omega they chose.

Taking scent samples from several omegas they already had, they presented them to the soldier, allowing him to choose. It was, perhaps, the one time they had ever given him a sense of autonomy over himself and his life. It was the one time he had any freedom, despite the incredibly controlled circumstances.

 While strapped down to a familiar chair, he watched the doctors pacing around. He was expecting the familiar agony of having his mind refreshed before a new mission, or maybe even the chill of preparation to go into cryo for a few years until he was needed again. Instead, they presented him with strong-smelling test tubes, each one unmistakably omega. He inhaled their scents with mild interest, none seeming to particularly stand out...until they reached the last.

Amoretta Arancini was a young adult female omega, whose file stated that she was “a kicker.” From the moment she had been captured with the intent to be given to the soldier for a rut, she had clawed and kicked and bitten at anyone and everyone who came into contact with her. She was nearly impossible to deal with, and had the soldier not immediately flared his nostrils and strained against the leather straps that held him down, she would have been finally put down. 

Neither she nor Bucky knew it, but he was the only reason she was allowed to live.

The soldier was placed back into his usual cell, and the doctors set about gathering the unruly omega he had chosen. It only made sense that the big, killer alpha would go for a positively savage little monster of an omega, after all.

They administered the serum, unsure whether an omega would even survive it, and by the time their soldier’s next rut came around, she was ready. If she could withstand him, she would have a purpose within HYDRA, and they would be able to stop wasting so much time on finding new omegas for him to burn through. 

She was given double the suppressants he was. They didn’t care if she experienced side effects; after all, her only job was to present herself to the soldier at the start of every rut. She didn’t need to be out in the field. If that meant she was groggy and nauseous all the time, who cared? It seemed to work, keeping her heat and fertility at bay while leaving her lucid enough to get the asset through his cycle. The last thing HYDRA needed was an unscheduled heat or pregnancy to deal with. 

“The asset is entering his rut. Bring in the omega.” A voice on the intercom said. 

An alarm blared, a door slowly screeching open, revealing a cold cell, bare save for the cot against the wall. It was a cell specifically used to hold the soldier during his ruts, and now, it would also hold Amoretta. 

She stumbled along, a beta guard with a cattle prod stalking behind her. She was naked, having been allowed to shower before meeting the soldier for the first time, her dark hair still damp as it fell behind her shoulders. It was the cleanest her skin had felt in weeks, so she could only be so angry about it...but she was still angry. 

With the threat of electricity behind her, she entered the empty cell. A door slammed shut the moment she stepped in, another sliding open on the other side of the small room. 

His scent hit her like a freight train. Motor oil, earth, and cloves...Amoretta’s lip raised in a sneer, partly because she had a feeling she knew what was coming, and partly so that she could try to disguise the way she suddenly began salivating. 

Sure enough, just as she suspected, the biggest alpha she had ever seen in her life came stalking in, eyes dark and wild as he searched for the omega he had smelled on his way in. His chest was heaving, sweat prickling his brow, and as his musky rut-scent wove around Amoretta, she swallowed hard. She definitely knew what was coming next. 

She had never seen the asset before, but she had heard whispers and seen the other omegas they offered up to him. Before she was injected with the serum, she lived in a cramped cell with several others, and whenever someone was dragged out, it was always a toss up whether they would return or not. When they did return, they were never in good shape. 

Now she could see why. 

He was predatory in his movements, dark hair falling in his eyes as he stalked toward her. The door slammed shut the moment he was clear of it, and suddenly, Amoretta was trapped with him. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide from what was quite possibly the most dangerous alpha in the world. If he decided he wanted her, she would have no choice. If he decided he didn’t want her...she would probably die, either by his hand, or HYDRA’s.

She stood as still as she could, watching him with level eyes as he sized her up. A large part of her was surprised that he hadn’t pounced yet, and as a low rumble started up in his chest, she sort of wished he would. The sound went straight to her core, her thighs pressing together of their own free will while she did everything she could to keep from biting her lip. 

His nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal mounted and he pressed himself up against her. The soldier was still looking her over, taking a surprisingly long time to examine the omega standing before him, especially considering that he was rutting. He slowly lowered his head, inhaling deeply, brushing his nose over the scent gland on her neck. The rumbling in his chest grew louder, and this time, Amoretta couldn’t help the needy whine that escaped her throat. 

The soldier’s hot tongue swept over her gland, his hands gripping her hips. He liked how she smelled. He liked how her flesh tasted. 

He wanted more.

He gave her a small shove towards the cot, but as he did so, this little omega glaring up at him actually snapped. She bared her little teeth at him, trying to tell him to slow down, and he responded with a snarl of his own. His tore through his throat, a savage noise, and while it shut her up, it didn’t get rid of the harsh look she was shooting at him. 

The asset wasn’t used to anyone, especially the omegas that HYDRA offered up to him, talking back. They usually went belly up for him the moment he stepped into the cell, behaving and presenting themselves for him to take. That’s what he preferred--a willing omega, whom he could enjoy for a few days. He didn’t like...whatever was going on here. Why was this one so upset with him? He wanted this omega to relax, to take him easily.  His mind, usually so analytical and tactical, was clouded by his rut, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. 

Amoretta saw the way that he hesitated and she lowered the lip she had raised. So he was capable of listening, after all. That was a good sign that he had some control over himself. Ever so slowly, she relaxed, allowing him to give her a little nudge. It was impressive that he was allowing her to set the pace, especially considering that his musky scent was growing heavier by the second. She definitely hadn’t expected him to be at all interested in what she wanted, and she had been pretty sure that he would just push her down and take what he considered his.

He was almost...gentle, though. Gentler than she thought possible from such a big alpha, at least. She turned and walked toward the cot of her own accord, knowing full well that she didn’t have much choice in how all of this was going to play out. If she was going to be knotted today, then she might as well try to enjoy it, right? 

The way his scent made her mouth water gave her the feeling that that wouldn’t be too hard.

The soldier watched her with predatory eyes, following every movement closely. Absentmindedly, a hand drifted down to the loose pants he had been provided, palming his already hard cock through the fabric. He liked this omega. He liked how she looked, how she smelled, how she moved...he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her hips as they swayed slightly, a pleased rumble rising in his throat. He knew what was coming next, and he couldn’t wait. He was aching to be inside of her, to fill her up, to knot her...he wanted to make this omega his, and take care of her, and protect her, and he’d be damned if his captors got in the way of that. 

Amoretta climbed onto the cot, her back still turned to the most dangerous alpha on the planet. All too aware that she was completely naked, she crawled onto her hands and knees, dipping down until her chest hit the sheets, her ass up in the air for him. Her primal, omega brain was clamoring for this chance to present before such a big, strong, handsome alpha, and as the cool air tickled at her, she couldn’t help but let out a shrill, needy whine. He was taking too long, and part of her was genuinely worried that he was going to reject her. She was doing everything right, she was submitting, she was in a very vulnerable position...so why wasn’t he already on top of her? 

A tiny bead of slick trickled down her thigh as she glanced back to see him standing there with his hand on his bulge. Oh. So that’s what he was doing instead of jumping on her. At least he was turned on by the sight of her...right?

Wait. Why did she care? Why did she care at all what this terrifying alpha thought about her? This terrifying, big, strong...nice smelling...alpha…

If she weren’t on so many suppressants, she was absolutely sure her heat would have started then and there. He was so goddamn handsome, standing there all shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Her body wanted him, she wanted him, and if her hormones were allowed to do what they wanted, they would have been absolutely raging.

 His nostrils were flared as he took in her scent, his blue eyes wild and his pupils totally blown out as he finally stalked towards her. His movements were brisk, filled with purpose, the bulge in his pants clearly visible even as she craned her neck to look back at him. 

“A-alpha,” she whined, warmth rushing through her as she spoke. 

The sound of her voice seemed to have an effect on him, a shudder rolling through his body. 

“‘Mega,” he growled, voice impossibly low. “My ‘mega. So obedient...good girl.”

His words had her trembling. 

All at once, he was shoving his pants down and grabbing for her hips, rubbing the length of his cock over her lips. She keened, more and more slick running down her thighs as he pressed the head inside of her. Even though she was loaded up on suppressants, her body wanted him, her cunt already dripping wet and relaxed enough to accommodate his sizable girth. 

Still, the feeling of him stretching her out was absolutely delicious, eliciting a filthy moan that came pouring from her lips as she buried her head against the sheets. He wasn’t gentle by any means, thrusting into her as far as he could go before pulling back out roughly. His pace was harsh and quick, his body immediately caging her in as his chest pressed into her back. He was possessive, trying to hide her from the surveillance cameras he knew were situated in the upper corners of the cell. He didn’t want anyone else to see his omega, especially not while she was beneath him like this. She was his, and his alone. 

As rough as he was, he was still paying attention to her. Somewhat, at least. He was well aware by this point that she was tougher than the other omegas HYDRA had given him, and he took the opportunity to sink into her deeper, fuck her better than he normally could have. She could take him,  all of him, without complaint. She could withstand his harsh grip on her hair as he pulled her head up and forced her back to arch. She didn’t have any problems accepting what was happening to her, her body responding to him happily. 

“Such a good omega,” he grunted, forcing his cock even further into her. 

“I-I want your knot,” she whimpered, her voice surprisingly demanding considering the position she was in. “Fill me up, Alpha…”

How could he deny her?

When he had spilled his seed inside of her and his knot had inflated to a nearly painful extent, he wrapped an arm around her, holding her to his chest as he laid them both down on the cot. He was happy with his choice, with his omega. She was everything he wanted, and as his rut continued for the next few days, he had his way with her again, and again, and again, before HYDRA separated them once more. 

The soldier snarled and roared, refusing to be taken away, but as soon as they recited his trigger words, he was compliant. Amoretta listened and watched, eyes wide as they led him away. She had only spent one rut with him, but she was already head over heels, her heart aching and pining for her alpha to come back to her.

[noctumbra]

it’s my birthday and the only thing that’s been on my mind since 12 am hit is fuckboy bucky waking me up by eating me out as the first part of my birthday gift

i am 🕯✨manifesting✨🕯

happiest birthday, love! 💘 hope you like it! 

pairing: fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: smut, +18, oral sex (f receiving), language, somnophilia (gif not mine)

when you went to bed last night, you were reluctant about whether you should have kicked him out or not. this wasn’t what you usually did: he always left as soon as he was done fucking you through the mattress, but last night he came to you a bit drunker than usual, and you weren’t about to send him off like that. 

so, he stayed the night. 

and boy, were you glad that you let him stay.

you were loose and soft from the sleep; your bed was comfortable and under the duvet was warm. as you buried yourself deeper in the bed, you gasped lightly, feeling a lick of pleasure washing over your body. you frowned in your half-asleep state. the pleasure kept washing over you with light waves, stealing soft gasps and barely-audible whimpers. you were slowly getting stripped away from your sleepy state, you were aware of that much. 

it was a flick on your clit and a long, thick finger slipping in your pussy that woke you up with a moan. 

“mhm,” you heard a deep hum and felt the vibrations on your sensitive flesh. “y’re awake finally.” you felt lips on your inner thighs and with a confused, but lust washed face you grabbed the duvet and yanked it off. 

bucky was laying on his stomach and was between your legs; he was naked still, hair was a mess and his chin was covered with your juices, you could see it shining. his lips were red and they were possessed with a filthy smirk. you shivered when your eyes found his and realized how dark and hungry looking they were. 

“you been drippin’ on my fingers,” bucky murmured. “y’were humpin’ against me, actually.” he cocked a brow at you, still carrying the same smirk, and you felt heat rushing up to your cheeks. “thought maybe i should thank you for lettin’ me stay, treatin’ me so nice last night.” he placed another kiss but this time right onto your clit. you cried out softly as your hips bucked against his face. “so i decided i’ll wake you real nice.” your eyes rolled backwards as he nipped the very sensitive flesh of your labia and gave you a proper bite on your inner thigh. he chuckled at your reaction, licking a fat line from bottom to the top. 

“fuuuck,” you moaned. your fingers were quick to grab onto his hair as your back arched. bucky chuckled again, sounding darker than before. without saying anything else, he went back to what he was doing before you woke up. 

his tongue licked you clean, humming at your taste, and his lips closed around your clit to suck on it occasionally. with every fat drag of his tongue, you could feel his tongue piercing, and it was driving you fucking crazy. he was closing his lips around your clit, sometimes, and tongue at it, making you feel every beat of his piercing on the sensitive, poor thing. 

you cried out, moaned, groaned and whimpered loudly, not stricting yourself. you were feeling fucking awesome; you had a hot as fuck man between your thighs, going to town on your pussy and eating it out like it was his very last meal and the pleasure he was giving you was thrumming through your body in a very spectacular way. of course, you weren’t going to try to silence yourself, the man needed to hear what he was doing to you ─ even though he was an asshole and would probably be bragging about it next time you saw him. 

“fuck, bucky─” you moaned again, both hands were in his hair; pulling, twisting and nails scratching his scalp. he loved the pain it gave him, though, you knew it, and it was easy understand that he loved it by the sounds he had been burying into your pussy. 

you gasped when you felt the tip of his tongue slipping inside you. “‘m closeeee!” you whined. “fuck, ‘m about to come─ bucky─ james, shit!” your back arched, eyes rolled backwards and your thighs closed around his head tightly as the pleasure slammed you like a freight train. bucky kept licking, slurping, sucking as he dragged his hands up and down on your thighs soothingly. 

he easily unfastened your legs around his head, placing a soft kiss on your clit just to make you shiver, and pulled back. “happy birthday, love,” he said with a smirk as he took in the sight of you looking all debauched because of his oral skills. his hands were still on your thighs, stroking them softly. he stood up on his knees, didn’t seem to be fazed that he was all naked and his cock was hard as nails. his smirk got filthier when he caught you eyeing him there. 

“don’t you think ‘s my turn now?” 

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Heartbreak | awesamdude

Requested? Nope this just helped me with my writer's block

Warnings? None?

Summary: Sam helps you through a heartbreak

Word Count: 1,816

You were certain you were going to be sad forever.

Dramatic yes, but you always had a flair for grabbing attention whenever you could. As much as you didn’t want to admit it though, you were genuinely crushed though by your break up.

You and your now ex-boyfriend Austin had spent six months together, in what you would call a whirlwind romance. He had stolen your heart pretty quickly, the two of you spending what felt like every second for the past half-year together.

Dinners, studying together, errands, dates, weekends, everything was spent together. You couldn’t believe how fast it had happened and then how fast it had ended. You were still reeling a solid week later after being ghosted for a solid two weeks and then having the relationship end with a text that said he couldn’t do this anymore.

You had taken the break up as well as anyone or any of your friends knew. You had cried and cried and cried the first few days, watching sad movies or romance movies over and over until you cursed every man to the ends of the earth for simply existing. You then ate a copious amount of your favorite comfort food accompanied by many sympathetic hugs from your mom.

By the end of the first week, you knew you had to keep going in life, but didn’t know how to cope with the breakup. So, your next resort was sad music. You were pretty certain anyone looking at your Spotify playlists was probably concerned at the number of sad songs playing on a loop but it helped to know someone else understood the pain you were going through.

“Please tell me you at least left your house today?” Sam, your best friend questions.

Sam had been your rock through this entire thing. While he hadn’t come over (at your request since you looked horrific) he still tried and coached and helped as much as possible. He texted you throughout the day, calling you at night to check up on how you felt and what you did during the day. You were definite this boy was the only good one left.

“Uhhh,” you drag out at his question looking around your trashed room and see that you probably couldn’t even make a path to your door if you wanted to through the number of clothes on the floor.

“That’s okay. There’s always tomorrow,” he reassures and you smile lightly at his positive tone.

The next day, you woke up a familiar pang hitting your chest and memories flooding you. Today was probably not going to be a good day in the break-up department. You tried though, for the sake of your best friend, and got as far as showering and eating something.

After lunch you ended up back in bed, sad Taylor Swift music on a loop and your covers pulled up to your chin. Sure, you made progress today and you could carry that momentum into tomorrow but you were pretty certain this was as far as you were getting.

Just as you snuggle into the covers, your phone dings with Sam’s special text tone and you pick it up. Your eyes scan the text and a smile creeps along your lips again.

“You can do this!! What did you eat this morning?”

You text him back, telling him about how your day is going so far and what you’ve eaten, and ask the older boy what his plans are for the day. He’s quick to text back and tells you not much is up and you leave it at that and go back to your playlist and sulking.

Sam couldn’t help but worry about his best friend and the girl he had been secretly crushing on since day one. He hated knowing you were sad and couldn’t do much more than offer words of encouragement and support. As he paces his apartment ideas wracking his brain one hits him like a freight train.

He grabs his keys and wallet, heading out the door to your house. Once there, he knocks on the door, waiting patiently for one of your family members to answer.

“Sam!” your father greets and the brunette smiles.

“Hi, Mr. (y/l/n). Is (y/n) around?”

“Upstairs in her room,” your dad says and Sam nods and thanks him before scaling his way up the stairs and towards your room.

Just before he knocks on the door, he stops upon hearing music playing inside. All Too Well by Taylor Swift blasts in your room and Sam pouts at the idea of you alone and sad in your room. He knocks on the door, waiting for your voice and when he hears you call to him he lets himself in.

When you see Sam enter your room, you sit up in bed clear confusion present in your features. Sam makes his way to you, sitting down in front of you on your bed and you pause your music.

“Hi honey,” he greets and you smile sadly.

“Hi,” you respond weakly.

Sam doesn’t say another word, just opens his arms to you in which you dive straight into. He holds you tight rubbing light circles on your back as tears flow slowly down your cheeks. He pulls back after a moment, lifting your face into his hands and wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“You’re too pretty to cry over an idiot like him,” he tells you and your sad smile shoots straight to his heart.

“I think I loved him Sam.”

“I know baby,” he says, still focusing on your tears and not meeting your eyes. “But he’s still a jerk who hurt you and doesn’t deserve you. Don’t waste tears on that. Your tears and emotions are precious.”

You nod, sitting up and pulling yourself over to sit next to Sam. You lay your head on his shoulder and he rests a hand on your leg rubbing comfortable shapes on your thigh.

“You ready to face the world?” he whispers and you take a deep breath.

“With you? Yeah.”

Sam stands, a wide smile on his face before holding his hands out to you. He pulls you up with him before whipping out his phone and blasting music. However this time it’s the good kind of Taylor Swift that makes you feel like a bad bitch and you can dance around your room too.

Sam takes your hands in his and spins you around the room, the two of you screaming the lyrics together and the louder you are the better you feel. Sam’s hands in yours, the music blasting, and the therapeutic action of yelling Taylor Swift’s music ebbing the pain away slowly.

By the time a few songs have gone by and you and Sam are exhausted from dancing he pauses the music. He holds up a hand, heading to your closet and picking out an outfit before throwing it towards you.

“Let’s go get some dinner huh baby?” he asks and you nod not even realizing the wide smile set on your lips looking at your best friend.

He lets himself out of your room and as you get changed you can’t help the little giggle that escapes your lips thinking about Sam. Before Austin, you had the biggest crush on your best friend. It had never gone away, granted you were pretty sure it was still there the way he had your heart racing just by being in the same room as you.

He made you feel like a queen on your worst days, and like the only woman to ever walk the earth on your best days. You wish you knew if he felt the same or not knowing that if he did you’d give that man the whole world and more.

You finish getting changed, swinging your door open and Sam looks up, an awestruck smile hitting his lips. He holds out his hand and you take it letting him pull you away from the room that held utter sadness for a week now and into your utter happiness.

When you get to Sam’s car, you’re back to blasting music and singing, the two of you trading laughs, jokes, and stories like any other day and Austin has been pushed so far back in your mind you barely remember what he did in the healing presence of Sam.

“The usual?” Sam asks, pulling into both of your favorite restaurant.

You nod and the two of you get out together and head inside the crowded restaurant. You’re seated to the side of the room in a big booth that hides the two of you away from the rest of the world. As you flip through the menu uselessly, already knowing what you want, you realize Sam’s eyes are on you.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing. You’re smiling again,” he says and you don’t even realize the grin that had set permanently on your lips since he had walked into your room.

“I’m glad to see it,” he says and you both smile, a blush covering your suddenly nervous selves before looking away.

Dinner goes by quickly, and you wonder why you didn’t call Sam earlier. The thought crosses your mind but is quickly washed away by the thump of your heart when he sends a smile your way and your feelings reverberate throughout your entire body.

You head out of the restaurant and decide to head home for the night. The ride home is easy, music flowing, conversation traded back and forth, probably the best you felt in a long time.

When you get out of the car, Sam meets you on your side and you lean against the passenger door. You stare up at him as he leans next to you, body half-turned to face you and your heart speeds up a little.

“So,” he sighs out.

“So,” you echo.

His hand comes up to push a piece of hair back, before trailing slowly down your jawline and eventually cupping your cheek. He hesitates for a moment as he turns to face you completely, his body slotting in between yours perfectly.

“Can I?” he asks quietly, his head dipping down mere inches from yours.

You nod, heart slamming in your chest and his lips finally grace yours. You come alive under his touch, one arm wrapping around his shoulder while the other grips the fabric of his shirt pulling him as close as possible. Your lips sync with ease, his body pressed against yours as you sink into his touch.

When you’re out of breath you pull away but stay close to Sam as possible. His forehead lands on yours and he pecks your lips again before pulling back just slightly to look at you.

“So,” he repeats and a smile widens on your lips a giggle escaping shortly after.

“So, wanna come inside?”

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone Symphony | Night One | Hades

Hey my lovelies, here is the next instalment! It’s pace is a little different-- a little more frantic-- but it fits the storyline so all is good! I wasn’t joking when I said it was a slooooow burn LOL! It’ll be worth it, I promise-- expect a bathtub scene soon. Anyways, enjoy my loves!!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: nightmares, anxiety, cheesy chic flicks

Word count: 5.5k

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Master List

“You don’t even go here!”

He tries not to laugh— he really, really tries. He doesn’t want to laugh at a chick flick. Maybe Nat would have called him toxic for that. She was a badass— strong, intelligent, killer— probably the most like him out of everyone on the team— and even she used to laugh at movies like this on the nights she and Wanda would claim the common room for marathons. She definitely would have called him toxic. Maybe that’s why he lets a few chuckles out. Maybe it’s just because it is funny, though, and because the other deathly intelligent woman next to him is looking at him.

Maybe he just wants her to keep looking at him and if that means watching her movie then so be it.

The couch shifts. It’s only a tiny movement— if he wasn’t so focussed on her he wouldn’t have even noticed it. But he is and he does and he tells himself it’s because this is his job. It’s his job to watch her because he has to keep her safe. Yeah, it’s his job to keep her safe. It has nothing at all to do with the fact that when she had dropped that stupid fucking brush his heart had beat so fast he thought it was going to explode. Nothing to do with the fact that he’s never kicked a door down that quick in his entire life. Nothing to do with the fact that it feels like if he takes his attention off of her for even a second then she’s going to end up with a bullet in her skull—

No. She’s fucking not. End of story.

He swallows hard, the laughter evaporating like smoke in his lungs. He didn’t expect it to last that long anyway. It never does. His eyes flick over her, watching as she pulls her legs under her worn hoodie, her head resting on the arm of the couch. Her eyes are closed and when he holds his breath he can hear hers, soft and slowing alongside her heartbeat.

Some of the tension begins melting away in his shoulders. For four hours he laid there on the floor, jaw and fists clenched so tight he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pry them open again when the time came, listening to the rapid thump, thump, thump of her heart. Four fucking hours. That was worse than the brush— he can stop a guy with a gun but he knows nothing about heart attacks.

It was agony— he hasn’t felt that kind of helplessness before. Helpless knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her heart because he was definitely the reason it was pounding like a freight train trying to barrel out of her chest. He doesn’t want to scare her— in fact, he’s almost certain he would do anything if it meant she wouldn’t be afraid of him. Because that’s what it was— fear. He could practically smell it. The sharp tang of sweat and something else lingering in the air— something that made the hair on his arms stand on end, his attention laser focussed on the semi-sweet aroma. Normal people can’t smell fear but he can. Dogs can.

He swallows thickly, metal fingers balling so tight he can hear the slight creak of the vibranium curling against his thigh. His eyes dart back to her, praying the sound doesn’t make her flinch like everything else he does seems to do. Thankfully she remains still, her heart continuing to slow steadily. He pauses his breathing again to listen harder, clinging to the rhythm of the air coursing through her lungs.

In, out, pause. In, out, pause.

Like everything else she does, she makes a song of her breaths, finding a melody in the simplest of human routine. This time, though, it’s less mesmerizing. It still drags him into her orbit— he can still feel himself getting lost in this new incarnation of her inescapable softness— but there’s this voice nagging at the back of his mind, nervously tapping at his skull, demanding to be heard. That’s normal, right? She’s supposed to be breathing that slowly? Where is the line drawn between too fast and too slow? As much as he wants to get lost in her music he can’t help but feed into the voice. Fuck. He narrows his eyes, opting to watch the minute rise and fall of her chest instead.

Rise, fall, stop. Rise, fall, stop.

For a moment it works— he can see her breathing so she’s obviously fine— but then she stills and it feels like someone is driving a knife through his lungs. It’s normal— it has to be normal. She’s just asleep. Sure enough she takes another breath, chest rising once more before falling. The same thing happens, she stills, and he waits. Rise, fall, stop. With every cease of movement he feels more and more like sliding closer to her— as if he would be able to change her breathing pattern from sheer will and closeness.

Snap out of it, Bucky— she’s fine!

He’s being irrational— he’s being nitpicky. Since when is he an attention to details kind of guy? It’s his job. There it is again— the reminder. The excuse. He has to keep her safe and making sure she’s breathing normally is definitely part of that. Rise, fall, stop. His fingers— his real fingers— twitch against his other thigh and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to stop his gut from twisting. He has to do something— anything— to get closer to her. Just to make sure. Glancing around the room, his eyes catch on something along the back of the couch— perfect.

He yanks the quilt down as silently as possible, shaking it until it unfolds before scooting closer to her. As Bucky enters her space, cushions heaving under his weight, all he can smell is cherry pie. It almost floors him, the heady sugar and slight tang clinging to the air around her. His lips are dry but he doesn’t poke his tongue out, afraid of syrupy nostalgia he can feel starting to meld against his skin, sinking into the pit of his stomach. It’s futile— he knows it is— avoiding the sweetness won’t make it go away.

He swallows the lump in his throat and it tastes like July in Brooklyn in 1925. It tastes like running through the docks with Steve when the first shipment of fruit reached the shore, hands— both flesh, both warm, both untouched by anything but careless youth— curled around the money his mother had given him. Buy the ones in the back, she would tell him. They’re the sweetest. Finally he can’t take it— how tight his mouth feels— and he runs his tongue along his lips. His mother’s cherry pie used to win awards— now he knows why.

He drops the blanket a little unceremoniously. He isn’t intending for it to fall in a lump into her lap, all bunched up and awkward, but it slips from his fingers before he can catch it. Damn pie. He quickly fixes it, acting with more delicacy, trying to keep from touching her as he drapes the material over her legs. Despite his efforts he brushes her skin a few times, his now calloused and cold fingers meeting her buttery soft thigh, and his chest jolts, heartbeat spiking enough to rid his lungs of any trace of oxygen. He tears his hands away, breathless, face hot, and sinks his head into his free grip. He’s losing it.

“I didn’t mind it.”

At first he thinks he’s imagining it— her sweet, soft voice— the faintest lullaby breaking through the crashing of blood in his eardrums— but then he feels the couch move again and his head is lifting of its own accord, eyes desperate to see that she’s okay. He follows her movements, tiny hands grasping at the quilt, pulling it over the rest of her body. She presses her face against it, eyes remaining shut but clearly alive, and his shoulders drop. See, she’s fine you idiot.

She’s fine but he didn’t hear a word she said. “What.”

He bites back the groan— Really? ‘What’? So you remember her cherry pie but none of the manners she taught you?

If she notices the gruffness in his tone she doesn’t point it out, only yawns and stretches, bringing her body into an even smaller ball. God, he could just reach out and pick her up with one han—

“Doll.” She mumbles, sleep etched across her features, making her already soft words even more gentle. Even more hypnotic. “I didn’t mind it.”

He wasn’t breathless before. Now he knows that. He was something— stunned, shocked, a moron— but not breathless. His lungs didn’t feel like they were filled with helium before— so light that he’s afraid he’s going to float away. He didn’t slam a hand against his chest last time, fingers like jelly as they claw at his heart, searching for something to anchor himself against the madness of his racing mind. She didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel like this— like there’s no air in his throat but that it’s okay because if there’s air in her throat then everything is fine.

Everything will be fine.

She liked it.

He sinks back against the cushion, eyes wide and glued to the girl next to him, barely registering the soft snores that begin fluttering around him. She liked it. Her, the softest, warmest girl that he can remember even being this close to. The softest, warmest girl who smells like his mother’s famous pie. The softest, warmest girl who, in her sleep, pushes her foot closer towards him, resting it against his leg and snoring a touch louder. He’s breathless now— speechless.

But he has to say something.

“Oh.”

Yeah, he’s a moron alright.

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After the movie finishes Bucky just clicks on the next one. She’s The Man. It’s funnier than the last. Maybe that’s just because the clock now reads four thirty, though, and his legs have started going numb and her cherry pie scent is still lingering in his nose. It’s like a sedative, being this close to the sleeping girl. His bones feel heavier, his eyelids beginning to droop. Every time he blinks the darkness lasts a little longer. He uses the ticks of the ancient clock to keep track.

Tick, tick, tick.

She stopped snoring about an hour ago. He kind of wishes she hadn’t. It was like a reminder— a little ‘it’s okay, I’m breathing’ to keep his nerves from sky rocketing. Now all he can hear is the little puffs of air as they leave her lips. Sometimes they blend into the noise of the TV and he goes still, a chill tingling at the top of his spine as he waits. In, out, pause. Always that damn pause. He debates turning the movie off a few times but stops himself, not wanting to risk her waking up to him staring at her in the dark. He may be out of touch with the times but creepy is timeless and in any time— be it the thirties or now— he would prefer to stay as far away from that category as possible.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He can feel where her toes still press against his thigh. They’re higher now, closer to his hip, and he can’t bring himself to move away from her. He should. He knows he should. This isn’t part of the job. The way his stomach flip flops like he’s a teenager again when she kneads against him is not in his contract. Neither is the way he wishes it wasn’t just her foot. He clenches his jaw, head sinking back into the back of the couch. Screw Wilson for having a couch that feels like a fucking cloud. He can feel his muscles relaxing, the numbness in his fingers a tell tale sign of the impending sleep. Just a few more seconds.

Tick, tick, tick— god he wants to crawl next to her and fall asleep— tick, tick.

He springs to his feet, eyes open as wide as they can go, shaking his head to clear the thought. Nope— that game is done. That’s the last thing either of them need; for her to wake up, broken leg or wrist or worse, trapped under him because there’s no way that he wouldn’t hurt her if they were sleeping together. He’s too big and she’s too good. Too good for someone like him, too good to be subject to the danger of his tossing and turning.

His restlessness was never dangerous before. Annoying? Yes. Distracting? Definitely. But dangerous? Never. Thinking about it now, though, he can see it— all the little ways she would get hurt being with him but especially the ones that involve them sharing a bed together. Or a couch. He’s destructive and it only makes sense that his sleep habits would be destructive too. His fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots. The sting against his scalp is almost enough to cover the one in his throat.

Now that he’s on his feet he stays on them, shifting his weight between his heels, trying desperately to clear the numbness. He never sits that long. Even back at the compound he never spends more than an hour in the same spot. He wasn’t built for the peace of day to day life. All the sitting and sleeping and lounging. That’s part of being a monster— in his case half man, half mechanical beast. He’s gotten used to being turned off when he’s not needed. Always moving and pushing and fighting until— Benign. Blackness. Nothing. The cold.

Maybe that’s why he can’t relax these days— the warmth. When he used to sleep— when he used to get turned off, he should day— it was freezing. Of course now he knows why— they kept him in a cooler like a piece of meat, always thawing and freezing him. It shouldn’t be a memory that he clings to— he shouldn’t be sleeping with his windows open at night, nothing but a sheet pulled over his hips. He shouldn’t cringe when Stark turns the heat up or when the gym showers are steamy from the person before him. He may be an idiot— a monster— but he’s not stupid. It’s not normal.

He misses being normal.

The supersoldier serum ensures that possibility is gone, though. Maybe one day he’ll get over the shower thing. Maybe he’ll even appreciate the temperature being turned up. It doesn’t really matter either way. Neither of those things will erase his heightened senses. Like how he can still feel where she was pressed against him, the spot on his thigh prickling with the memory of her touch. He knows he'll be able to feel her for the next few hours, engraved into his skin, taunting him. Not being afraid of the fucking hot water won’t rewire his nerve endings. Or his fucking brain which keeps filling with thoughts of the sleeping girl.

Shivering, he pushes himself to the other side of the living room, drawing back the curtain for a quick moment, eyes wandering the empty darkness before letting it drop again. He sinks into the recliner next to the couch, ignoring the way his bones ache in protest. The spot on his thigh is like a magnet, the lingering signature she unknowingly left on him begging to be reunited with her. He scratches at it— he’s not about to subject her to his cold shower, windows open life. She has enough of her own problems.

It’s not long before his eyes are beginning to shut again, the ticking of the clock like a dare, lulling him back into that semi-sweet cherry haze. Just try to stay awake, it taunts, clicking mercilessly as he fights his drooping eyelids. It would go against his entire nature, falling asleep in this armchair. It’s too soft and too warm and he has way too many clothes on but still— something’s different. He doesn’t have to look around to know what it is. His thigh is still buzzing. He doesn’t have to look but he does anyway. In hindsight it’s a good thing that he does—

“No—” his head snaps up, eyes cracking open, heart stopping— “No stop— don’t hurt—”

—because if he hadn’t then he wouldn’t be in front of her in time to catch her body as she bolts upright, springing from the couch with a choked scream, knees crashing into the coffee table and sending her flying straight towards where the glass vase shatters on the carpet.

He’s out of his seat in seconds, heart lodged in his throat as he shoves the coffee table with his boot, diving for her with all the speed he can muster. He winces when he hears the glass crunch further into ground but he can’t bring himself to care— not as his arms curl around around the tiny girl, pulling her into his chest as he twists his body and lands back first against the patch of carpet that is— thankfully— shard free. The thud of the impact echoes through his body, stabilizing only when it reaches the vibranium. He has no idea what the Shuri did to the arm to make it shock absorbent but for once he’s grateful for the hunk metal because at least it’s keeping the impact from jaring her even more. Finally the fuckin’ thing comes in handy.

His head slumps against the carpet for a moment, eyes closing, his chest heaving and veins singing— both from the adrenaline coursing a path through his body and from the way she settles on top of him, thighs pressing against him, hands splayed across his chest. He could get lost in this feeling— hell he can feel himself slipping away right now. Never before has he wanted someone’s hands to touch him so much. Hell, he doesn’t even want his own hands to touch him half the time. But hers? Gods, he wishes they would just dig into his hair already, tug on his shoulders, trace along his jaw and nose and lips. He’ll take anything— any little scrap of her skin on his.

That being said, it takes him longer than he’s willing to admit to push past the all consuming feeling of her pressing against him enough to realize that those very hands— the ones he wants so badly— are clawing at his shoulders. His eyes snap open, hands tightening on her back as she thrashes against him, voice high pitched and terrified.

“No, no, no, no! Don’t— hurt me. He’s gonna’— help me!”

Her hands— now balled into tiny fists— fly out, just barely missing his jaw as he ducks out of the way. They land against his chest instead, weakly pounding against him, and just like that he’s back, pushing off the ground and gently scooping her hands into his. It makes her thrash harder, her eyes squeezed shut, her harsh movements somehow languid and being swallowed by the hoodie. She’s panting, still mumbling, and he narrows his eyes, just barely making out the movement beneath her eyelids— is she still asleep?

“Please no.” It’s not so much of a yell now as it is a strangled whimper— one that hits him so hard he has to slap a hand to the ground to keep from falling over again.

“Hey, c’mon—” he lets her wrists go, hand instead curling around her shoulder, shaking her as delicately as he can given the fact that he’s trying to break her from the nightmare— “you gotta’ wake up, doll.”

Bucky can hear the way he stutters his words. He hasn’t stuttered since the second grade but here he is, fumbling over his sentences, trying to think of something coherent and useful. He’s a soldier for fucks sake— he’s faced worse things than a nightmare— but right now he feels eight years old again and helpless. He’s stuck, shaking her with weak arms, deaf to anything but her name on his tongue, and he’s scared. With every tortured cry that rips from her pink lips he becomes more torn between the kid he once was— the one who thought Brooklyn was so huge and that he was so small— and the man he is now— the one who knows that Brooklyn is nothing but a place and who still feels smaller than ever.

“Mama, no—” this time it’s neither a yell nor a whimper; it’s a full blown sob— one that sinks against his chest where her forehead hits him, a dagger straight to his already broken heart— “don’t go, don’t leave—”

The end of her sob explodes into a scream so loud he flinches, his hold on her tightening for a split second until he feels his fingers digging into her pilant flesh through the hoodie. He eases his grip, chest so tight he feels like he’s going to pass out. Somehow, even through the noise, he can still hear that fucking clock. It sounds like it’s laughing at him now. Tick, tick, tick, you can’t even keep a little girl safe, tick. He wants to curl up— he wants to rip his ears off. It’s too much. His shirt sticks to him, soaked with the hot, wet tears of the trembling girl in his arms and he snaps— he can’t take it anymore.

He shakes her one more time, harder, ignoring the way his muscles scream in protest, like they’re demanding he treat her as gently as possible. “Y/n wake up!”

He doesn’t yell but it’s the loudest he’s spoken since he walked through the door and it feels like he’s swallowing the pieces of the vase he broke. He had to do it. He had to make those sounds stop. He doesn’t like it but he had to. He’s just thankful it works, her eyes snapping open, the scream catching in her throat and dying away. It’s so sudden that his ears ring— not missing her wails but empty without her noise. The silence isn’t worse but it may as well be. There’s no winning for them.

She stops dead, movements ceasing, and too many seconds tick by in which all he can hear is his own panting, laboured and frantic. For too long she sits there, her eyes wide, meeting his gaze but also not. It takes everything in him to keep her at arms length— to not crush her tiny body against him if only to be able to feel her breaths against his skin. To make sure. He can see it— rise, fall, stop. Rise, fall, stop— but it’s not enough. It wasn’t enough before but now it’s really not enough, especially when she’s on his lap looking more dead than alive. Looking as dead as he feels knowing he can’t fight whatever’s going on in her head for her.

Finally, after what feels like another century of agony— one almost as bad as his first century of cryotanks— she blinks.

“Bucky?” Her voice is watery, his name coming out a little distorted— a little raw— but beneath it all he can hear the unyielding softness.

She shifts on his lap, fingers wound so tight in his shirt that he’s not sure if she’s fully aware of what happened yet. They shake wildly, thrumming a drunken beat against his chest. Had it been anyone else— had it been Wilson or Stark or anyone— he would have ripped them off of him. He would have seethed, teeth bared and nostrils flared, seconds away from barking, until they backed off. But it’s not anyone else; it’s her and so instead he sucks in enough air to make his lungs inflate and push his chest closer to her touch.

“Shit, doll, You’re ali— awake. You’re awake.” He breathes, face flushing, neck so hot he can feel every burning inch of his shirt— especially where her hands push the fabric against him.

He resists stuffing his fist in his mouth, hoping how stupid he sounds doesn’t register with her. Of course she’s awake— she's talking to him. She’s talking to him and she’s alive and she— despite the sweat beading along her forehead— still smells like tang and sugar. The SoCal girl still smells like summer in Brooklyn and that’s enough for him to force his hands off her shoulders, reluctantly but with relief cooling his nervous system.

The movement makes her tenses, head sloping down, eyes filling with realization before her neck snaps back up. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

There’s an edge in her voice, her eyes glossing over, hands loosening before dropping completely. Bucky blinks and the next thing he knows she’s pushing off his lap, dragging herself backwards, hands clawing at the carpet now instead of his chest. The cold air rushes over him, detailing every inch of him that had been pinned against her, and suddenly he doesn’t like it so much anymore. Get a grip.

He swallows, speaking around his aching tongue and stinging palms. “Think you had a nightmare or something. You were—” he pushes his hand up and through his hair, not realising until it’s too late that it’s the wrong one. He yanks it back, teeth clenching when some strands rip out with his metal fingers— “you were talking in your sleep and then you stood up. There was a vase—” why is this so hard to say? Just fucking spit it out— “and you were about to fall and I just— it was all so fast it was the only thing I could think to do.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes for the entirety of his spiel— he can’t— but he can feel her stare burning into the top of his head. That scent— that semi-sweet musk— fills the space between them and he digs his fingers into his thighs. He knows that, were it not for the same damn serum making it possible to smell her right now, he would have bruises on his legs. The thought doesn’t mean anything to him— it doesn’t make him let up. She’s afraid. Again. All because he couldn’t let her go soon enough. God damnit Bucky.

He listens as she shuffles— as she sniffles— and he’s never hated himself more. Because that’s what it is— he hates himself. He hates himself for shaking her so roughly in his haste. He hates himself for agreeing to take this job thinking he could handle it. For not demanding Wilson take the job. For enjoying bacon on grilled cheese and for wondering what Pasedena is like and for how fucking badly he wants to truly rememeber what his mother’s pie tastes like.

He hates himself for— despite every rational part of him screaming at him not to— closing the space between him and the crying girl and pulling her back into his arms. Call him a dog— call it the instincts of a useless, dangerous mutt— but to him her soft cries sound more like his name than anything he’s ever heard. They sound like an order. Come, dog. If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes is good at it’s following orders. For better or for worse.

This time, instead of pushing him away, she throws her arms around him. “I’m sorry.”

Her quivering voice catches him off guard but not as much as her apology does. What? She sinks her face into his neck, shoulders shaking against his, hoodie covered hands scraping against his back. Nevermind— he’s not about to fuck this up. He can feel the stretch of her spine as she struggles to keep her arms around his torso, her knees wobbling slightly as they hold her up, and he instantly slouches, curling forward. In turn she crawls forward even further, legs bumping messily into his. There’s no way this is happening.

He tests the water, running his fingers up her back, pressing so lightly that he can barely feel the ridges of her bones. “Don’t be.”

They stay like that in silence for more tick, tick, ticks than he can count, neither of them speaking. Eventually her shoulders stop shaking and her little sobs turn into little hiccups before finally dissipating into little huffs of air, warm and sweet and still against his neck. At one point he moves, rolling off his shins and kicking his legs out in front of him. It forces her to move too and at first he thinks she’s going to pull away but all she does is turn, scrunching her own legs up to her chest and settling between his knees, her side resting against his front. It isn’t until the first dregs of dawn cut through the miniscule crack in the green curtain that she speaks, voice stiff and fingers pulling at the collar of her hoodie.

“What, erm, what did I say?” She pauses before sheepishly adding— “In my sleep, I mean.”

Cue the sweet scent of her fear again. He peers down at her, watching as she tugs her lip between her teeth, biting down until he can smell more copper than fruit. The hair on the back of his neck raises, stomach sinking. Blood. Keeping his hand steady where it rests on her ankle is hard. It isn’t what he wants to do but he doesn’t want to scare her— well, scare her more.

“I couldn’t tell you,” he lies, voice tighter than he would like, shrugging his shoulders instead of reaching over and running his thumb over her lip. “It was too quiet.”

Her shoulders drop and— when she releases her lip, slightly tinted crimson but overall okay— so do his. She nods but doesn’t say anything and he taps her ankle once. He hopes that to her it reads something like you’re too wonderful to be hurting yourself. Even if it doesn't, that's fine. Even if all she does is feel it and know that he’s there, watching her back, then it doesn’t really matter. That’s good enough for him.

Still, there’s that feeling in his chest again— that nagging, nitpicky feeling. It makes the words dance on his tongue, stomp against his teeth. Just ask, they goad. We know you want to ask. His eyes flick to the clock. Six-thirty in the morning. He uses it— his glaring lack of sleep— as an excuse to open his mouth.

“Do you wanna’ talk about it?” it’s a risk— pressing the matter of her nightmare when it’s clearly a touchy subject— but he has to ask.

He has to make sure she’s okay.

It’s his job.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes. He watches as her throat bobs, fingers slipping into the neck of her hoodie. “Not right now.”

He nods— he can live with that answer. He knows what it’s like to not want to talk about things. To not want to talk about nightmares. He gets wanting to bury it. It’s what he does best. Showers, jogging, fighting. Ignoring his problems is his most fluent language— and he knows three. The only problem is that now his mouth is open and it’s refusing to close— to stop talking— and he says the only thing his worried, tired brain can think of.

“Do you think you wanna’ go back to sleep or—”

“No—” she chokes out, voice rushed and cracking and cutting off the rest of his stupid thought. The regret bubbles like tar in his chest— he’s such an idiot— “please no I can’t.”

She’s sitting up now, ankle falling from his grasp as she wraps her arms around her knees. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her jaw is just barely craning back and forth, her lips moving but nothing coming out. This time he wastes no tick, tick, ticks scooting closer to her, metal hand on her back, brushing up and down, flesh hand finding the warm spot on her leg and reclaiming it. She hiccups again and he holds her a fraction tighter, wondering just how common her nightmares are.

“Hey, s’alright, don’t worry. I’m not going to make you sleep or anything. That was, ah—” damnit Barnes don’t start rambling now just fix it— “yeah no, we’ll figure something else out.”

It seems to work, she settles quicker than all the times before, but it doesn’t keep his mind from continuing to think about her. From worrying about her. Do the nightmares happen often or only sometimes?

Her body relaxes, arm sagging against his once more as she nods. “Thanks.”

Who holds her when she wakes up screaming?

He winces. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Does anyone hold her or does she just wake up alone, terrified and—

“I want to. Thank you, Bucky.”

He feels like he’s going to explode— like he’s going to say something else that he’ll regret. He has to change the subject—

“You hungry, doll?”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust @motherofallthesmallthings​ @hazardoushallucination​

[americasass91]

Just a Negotiation

^chose this photo because arms🥵

This will most likely be my last submission for #shamelesshoesforchris. I’ve enjoyed this challenge SO much! Thank you @stargazingfangirl18​ and @navybrat817​ for hosting such an awesome challenge! This is the longest fic I’ve written so far. I’m such a hoe for Steven Grant so he’s the star of this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Prompts:

“Can you just not right now?”

“I don’t deserve you”

Words: 6.8k

Rating: Explicit(I can’t seem to help myself)

Warnings: Smut, angst, reader not admitting feelings, Steve being Steve, language, unprotected sex, lil cockwarming

“Ah, fuck! Right there, Steve! Don’t stop!”

“Couldn’t stop if I wanted too, sweetheart.”

He grabs your hips and bounces you on him even faster. Planting his feet on the floor so he can meet your thrusts.

Usually he’s the one on top and you’re just along for the ride. But today he told you he wanted you to ride him. He didn’t have to tell you twice.

He’d already made you come twice with his fingers and mouth. So it’s no surprise that you can already feel yourself on the precipice of pleasure once again.

He leans back from sucking on your neck. “You gonna come for me,Y/N? I can feel you squeezing my cock.”

You moan in reply. You aren’t able to form any words at the moment. He’s hitting your g spot with every thrust. You tangle your hands in his hair and slam down on him hard one last time as your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

“Fuck, Y/N. Yes! Feels so good. You’re gonna make me come.”

His thrusts become even harder and faster than before. You know he’s close.

You lean forward and bite his earlobe as you clench down on him, “Come on, Captain. Fill me up. I want it.”

At your words he throws his head back and lets out a loud groan, coating your insides with his spend. His thrusts come to a stop as he rests his forehead against your chest, trying to catch his breath. You run your hands through his hair, your own  breathing coming back to normal.

He brings his head up and leans in for a kiss. He pulls away and smiles. “So, same time next week?” He chuckles as he lifts you off of him and stands you up. “Sorry but I have a mission to get ready for. I think most of your clothes are in here, although I think your shirt is in the living room.”

“You and I both know we won’t last until next week, Rogers.” You start gathering your clothes, dressing as you go. You’d never admit it to him, but it always hurts your feelings a little bit when he kicks you out so quickly after your trysts.

Once he’s dressed in sweats and a too tight shirt, he comes over for a goodbye kiss. “That’s true, Y/N. You can’t resist all of this.” He gestures down his body with a chuckle.

You laugh at him. “Unless I have other plans.” You head out of his bedroom in search of your shirt. He follows you and leans against the doorway to his bedroom with his arms crossed, an amused expression on his face. “And what plans would that be?”

You finally locate your shirt and put it on. You head for your purse by the door. “I don’t know, but I could. My life doesn’t revolve around you, Rogers.”

You hear him chuckle. “Okay, tell that to my cock, sweetheart. You’ve been over here every night for the past 2 weeks. Not that I’m complaining.”

You turn around and face him. “I just wanted to create the illusion that I had a life. You know where to find me when you need a release.”

He gives you a smile that makes your knees feel weak. “That I do, Y/N. Have a good night.”

“Good luck on your mission!”

You wave and open his front door, glancing in the hall to make sure nobody is around. Once you realize the coast is clear, you close the door behind you and head back to your room.

You always hate this part. Your walk of shame. Some part of you always feels a little bit like a cheap whore. Although you agreed to this. So really you have nobody to blame but yourself.

See, you and Steve agreed awhile ago to become friends with benefits. It started with you complaining about going through a dry spell. He offered to help out. You know since he’s such a helpful kind of guy.

At first you declined his offer, stating you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. He understood and that was that.

Then a few nights later you had the worst date you had ever been on. You came back to the compound in a horrible mood. You’d really thought this date would’ve been a guarantee for sex. Then the guy turned out to be a total douche. You told him you had to ‘go to the bathroom’ and you made a beeline for the exit.

You stomped right up to Steve’s room and banged on his door.

He answered and looked confused to see you standing there. “Didn’t you have a date tonight? It’s not even 8:30. Is everything ok?”

You push your way inside and shut his door. “Listen, Rogers. I’m going to be real with you. The guy was a douche so I left early. So I was wonder-” He cuts you off. “He didn’t hurt you did he? Cause I’ll kill him if he did.”

You smile at his willingness to protect you. “No, Steve, he didn’t hurt me. He was just some self entitled, trust fund prick who thought the world revolved around him. I couldn’t stand another minute of him telling me how amazing he was. So I left and came straight here. I wanted to know if your offer still stood?”

His brows furrow. “You mean the offer about ending your dry spell? Yes, that offer still stands.”

You surge forward and crash your lips onto his. He reciprocates quickly and wraps his arms around your waist. After a few minutes of urgent kisses he pulls back. “Wait, wait. I just want you to know that I’m not interested in a relationship. With our line of work, I just don’t have time for one.”

You nod in understanding. “That’s great, Steve. But I’m trying to get some dick, not a relationship. And besides, this’ll only be a one time thing.”

That was the first lie you told yourself. At first it was only going to be a one time thing. But the sex turned out to be fucking phenomenal. So one time turned into two that turned into three and so on.

The next lie you told yourself was that you weren’t going to catch any feelings for him. Which you hadn’t for the first couple weeks into your negotiation. Then that all shot to hell. He’s Steve Rogers for goodness sake. How could you not fall for him?

Which leads you back to now. You know you should cut it off with him. But you can’t. You did a stupid thing and fell in love with him. And he’s let you know more than once he doesn’t have time for a relationship.

You finally reach your door and sigh in relief you didn’t run into anyone else. You and Steve have done a pretty good job at keeping this thing between you guys a secret. You plan to keep it that way.

You open your door and turn on the lights and just about jump out of your skin. Sitting on your couch is none other than your best friend, Nat. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!”

She stands and heads towards you. “Sorry, bug. Couldn’t resist scaring you. So, how’s Steve?”

You can feel the blush heating up your face. You turn and head towards your kitchen. “What? Nat, it’s 2 in the morning. Why would I know how Steve is? I was just working out some frustrations in the gym.” You grab 2 bottles of water out of the fridge and turn to toss her one.

She catches it and just gives you an amused look. “Oh come on, Y/N. I’m a trained assassin and spy. I know you guys are hooking up.” She twists the cap off her water and takes a sip.

“How did you find out?” There’s no use in denying it. You can’t lie to her. She knows you too well.

“Well besides the fact that you guys are always near each other and finding ways to touch each other? I walked to his room a few weeks ago to go over some paperwork with him and heard you guys. I gotta say, Steve has a dirty mouth on him.”

You groan as you head towards your couch. “Well we did a good job keeping it a secret up until now.”

She joins you on the couch. “How long has this been going on for exactly?”

You think for a minute. “About a year, give or take.”

She gapes at you. “You’ve been fucking Rogers for a year and I’m just now finding out about it? I mean is it just fucking? Are you guys in love? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s he like in bed? How big is it? I thought I was your best friend?”

You grab her shoulders and shake her a little. “Whoa calm down, Nat! First of all, yes. It’s just fucking. I didn’t tell you because Steve and I agreed to just keep it between us because we didn’t want to complicate things any further. And he’s the best I’ve ever had okay? His dick is amazing and has probably ruined me for all other guys. And you are my best friend. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Do you forgive me?” You give her the best puppy dog eyes you can muster at 2 am.

“Of course I forgive you, bug. But you didn’t answer all of my questions.” She smirks at you. You give her a confused look. She just rolls her eyes. “Are you guys in love?”

You look down at your hands in your lap. “I mean, I am. He’s not. He doesn't want a relationship right now.” You raise your head and look at your best friend. “But yes, I’m so in love with him it hurts. And if this is all I can have with him, then I’ll take it.”

She tilts her head to the side as if contemplating something. “Have you told him how you felt?”

You about spit the water you had in your mouth out before quickly swallowing it. “What? No! Of course I haven’t. He doesn’t love me. I’d just be setting myself up for failure.”

“How do you know that? How do you know he doesn’t feel the same? Maybe he’s scared to tell you. Come on! This is Steve we are talking about. Tell him! What’s the worst that could happen?”

You just stare at Nat in disbelief . “Um, he could hear me! And he would’ve told me by now. Right?”

Nat just shrugs her shoulders. “Not if he was afraid to tell you for the same reasons you’re afraid to tell him. Come on, Y/N. Yeah it might be hard to do but at least if you tell him you’ll know once and for all.”

She does have a point. If by some miracle he does feel the same then this could be the best thing that you ever do. If he doesn’t feel the same then at least you can cut ties and move on. You were tired of crying yourself to sleep at night over it. You look back at Nat. “Okay, I’m gonna do it. Tomorrow I’m gonna tell him and then I’ll know.”

She smiles and hugs you. “That’s great, Y/N. But it’s gonna have to wait until he gets back from the mission he’s going on tomorrow.” You furrow your brows. “Oh shit, that’s right. What kind of mission is it?”

“Just a simple undercover one. It’s just him and Sharon going. They have to pose as a married couple to try to get in good with some illegal drug smugglers. We think they’re involved with HYDRA. So they are going to check things out. Should be back in a week or so.”

“Won’t that be awkward with the two of them? I mean they dated for awhile.”

“It shouldn’t be, I mean they split on good terms. Promised to stay friends. I’m sure it’ll all work out fine. Besides it’ll give you plenty of time to work up the courage to tell him your feelings.” She smirks and stands to head towards the door.

You roll your eyes at her and bid her goodnight.

As she shuts the door behind her you can’t help but to think she’s right. It will take you the whole time he’s away for you to work up your courage.

It’s been 3 weeks since you’ve seen Steve. He came back from his mission today. You had psyched yourself up the whole time he was away.

That’s what led you to knocking on his door only hours after he got back. You hope you gave him enough time to debrief and shower the mission off.

Here goes nothing. You knock hesitantly.

The door swings open and Steve greets you with a smile. “Y/N! I didn’t expect to see you so soon but I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you.” He leans down to give you a hug and leads you inside.

“Really? That’s great cause I need to talk to you too.” You head to sit on his couch and look at him expectantly.

“You do? Okay then you go first.” He offers as he sits next to you.

“No, no. You go first. I insist.” You pat his hand, encouraging him to speak so you could hurry up and spill your guts to him.

“Okay, so something happened on the mission. Between Sharon and I. I think there’s still something between us. Nothing physical happened because I didn’t think that was right considering what you and I have going on. But I think we want to give it another shot.”

Your heart falls into your stomach. You do all you can to keep your smile. “Oh! Well that’s great news, Steve.”

“It is? I mean you’re not upset? I wanted to talk to you and put an end to this whole friends with benefits thing before I pursued anything with her.”

“Why would I be upset? Consider it ended. I mean it was just a negotiation between friends right? Thank you though, Steve. That was very considerate of you to talk to me about it first.”

He gives you his 100 watt smile. “Of course, Y/N. I mean I know we’ve been having sex but you’re my friend first and always. Unless you think there’s any reason I shouldn’t ask her out?”

He looks at you expectantly.

“Nope, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t. Who knows? Maybe this will lead to that happy ending you're always talking about.”

He looks just the slightest bit disappointed but the look is gone almost as fast as it appeared. “Okay, great. Now you said you had to talk to me? What’s up?”

Oh shit, you can’t tell him now. You quickly pull some excuse out of your ass. “Oh, um. I was just wondering if you’d spar with me? I’m getting a little lazy in my fighting and I think you could help me?”

“Of course. I’d be happy to. How about we start tomorrow? Say 8am?”

“Sure! Thanks, Steve. I gotta get going. Promised Nat I’d watch a movie with her. But hey, good luck with Sharon.”

You get up as quick as you can without it looking too suspicious. He stands up and walks you to the door. “Yeah, thanks. So I’ll see you in the morning?”

You open his front door and turn to look at him. “You bet!”

You shut the door behind you and high tail it to Nat’s room.

Just as you're about to knock, the door opens. Nat looks startled that you’re standing there. “Y/N, hey. I thought you’d be with Steve.”

You push her back inside and slam the door shut. “I was with Steve. And guess what, Nat? He ended things between us. He’s asking Sharon out again. Says he thinks there’s still something there.”

Nat pulls you into a hug. “Even after you told him how you felt? I’m going to kick his ass.” She pulls away and heads towards the door.

“Wait, Nat. No, I didn’t get the chance to tell him. After he told me he wanted to end things I couldn’t do it. He wants to be with her. I just want him to be happy. And if that doesn’t include me then so be it.” You’re doing your best to not cry.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh come on. Don’t cry on me now. I mean it’s not like they made it work the first time. I’ll give it 2 weeks before they break up. Then you can tell him how you feel!”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re insane if you think I’m telling him anything now. And I’m not betting on his relationship to fail.”

She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Trust me, bug. In a few weeks this’ll all be over and you’ll be in his arms instead.” She winks at you.

“All right, Sharon and I have an announcement to make! We wanted you guys to be the first to know since you’re our family. We’re getting married!”

You were going to kill Nat. 6 months ago she told you this wouldn’t last. Now here you were in the middle of one of Tony’s extravagant parties, hearing Steve’s engagement announcement.

You could feel your heart shattering into pieces. Because of course you still loved him. Those feelings haven’t gone away. You blink back your tears as you hurriedly search the crowd for Nat. You find her and she’s already giving you an apologetic look.

You had to get out of there before the tears fell. You turn around and head towards the elevators as quick as you can. You need some air. You get in and turn in time to see Steve looking at you with confusion. The doors close before your tears fall. Thank god. You hated crying and especially in front of people. You push the button for the roof. You let yourself have a good cry until the doors open again, signaling your arrival.

You head over to the railing and look out at the grounds. You never should’ve agreed to that whole friends with benefits thing. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be in this mess.

You wipe your tears away on the back of your hand.

About 10 minutes pass before you hear the elevator doors open. “So this is where you ran off to.”

You whip your head around to meet Steve’s blue eyes. He walks toward you and leans on the railing next to you. “Why’d you take off? They brought out champagne to celebrate. I know how much you love champagne.”

You chance a glance at him, hoping it’s dark enough that he can’t tell you’ve been crying. “Yeah, I just needed some air. Sorry about that. Why did you follow me? Shouldn’t you be with your new fiancée?”

He smiles at that. “Yeah well you looked upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And she’s busy showing everyone her ring anyways. Probably doesn’t even realize I’m gone.”

You return his smile. “Well, I’m happy for you. If anyone deserves their happy ending, it’s you.”

He pulls you into a hug. “Really? You mean that?”

You pull away and step back. You can feel the tears coming again. “Of course I do, Steve. You’ve done so much. You deserve all the happiness you can find.”

“Thanks, Y/N. That really means a lot.”

You turn and look out at the grounds again. “So, have you guys set a date yet?”

He chuckles and turns to stare out at the grounds with you. “Actually yeah. We’re getting married in 2 weeks.”

You turn towards him with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Steve! 2 weeks! Are you crazy? What’s the rush? That’s a whole lot of planning in such a short amount of time.”

He looks at you and rubs the back of his neck. “I know. But Sharon wants to get married at the Plaza. The only date available anytime soon is in 2 weeks. It was either that or we had to wait 3 years for the next available date. I even pulled the Captain America card. That’s what got us the spot we have now.”

“Wow, well good luck with that.” You pat him on the shoulder.

“Actually I was wondering if you could help out? I’m going to ask everyone to pitch in. I know it’s a tall order but with everyone on board, I know we can make it work.”

“Of course. Whatever you need me to do. But I really have to pee so I think I’m gonna go.” You start heading back towards the elevator. “Just let me know what needs to be done!” You step inside the doors as soon as they open and push the button to make the doors close before he can follow.

You cry as you descend to your floor. You can’t believe Steve’s getting married. You should’ve just told him how you felt. Maybe he would’ve chosen you. You scoffed at yourself. ‘Yeah right. Chosen me over Sharon Carter. Get real. I’ll never be in her league.’ You think as the doors open.

You hurry to your door, not surprised to see Nat standing there.

“There you are! Are you okay?” She opens her arms and lets you fall into them. You cry on her shoulder. She rubs her hand up and down your back. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Nobody needs to see you like this.” You pull away from her and open your door with your key.

Once inside you let loose. “What the actual fuck, Nat! You gave it 2 weeks! Well guess what? They’re getting married in 2 weeks! Yeah! Apparently Sharon just has to get married at the Plaza and that was the only date available.”

“I’m sorry, bug. I really didn’t think they would last. Let alone get married. I really thought he loved you too!”

“Can you just not right now? We were both wrong. I admit I was also hoping it wouldn’t last long. But it’s done, it’s over. Can we just not talk about it anymore?” You had raised your voice, letting the tears continue to fall.

She just gives you a sympathetic look. “Sure, Y/N. Let’s talk about something else. Did you happen to see who Sam was getting all cozied up to?”

You smile and wipe your tears away yet again and engage in the gossip with your best friend. You give her a hug and apologize for yelling.

The next 2 weeks flew by.

You and Nat were currently on your way back to the compound from Sharon’s bachelorette party. She had invited all the girls so you decided it was a great opportunity to get drunk. Even Nat let loose and had too many.

You were in the elevator with her on the way to your floor. You were leaning on each other and laughing at god knows what. The doors open and you both stumble out. You manage to catch yourself on the wall but Nat falls to the ground.

“Oh, shhiiit, babe! You ok?” You slur as you attempt to pick her up. Thank god Sam and Steve choose this time to turn the corner.

“Nat! Dammit are you ok?” Sam asks as he helps her up. She leans against him and starts laughing. “Willssoon! I need to pee really bad. Take me to my room!” She points in the wrong direction. Sam turns to Steve. “I’ll take this one if you take that one?” He nods his head in your general direction. You’re still laughing at Nat falling down. Steve nods. “I got her.” He turns towards you as Sam navigates Nat to her room.

“Hey there, Y/N. You have a little too much to drink?” He asks as he goes to grab your waist. You flinch away at his touch and almost fall down in the process. “Don’t you have your ‘fiancée’ to take care of?”

Steve rolls his eyes at you. “She’s staying with a friend tonight. The wedding is tomorrow and we’re not supposed to see each other. Now let me help you get to your room please.”

He goes to grab for your waist again and this time you let him. All you want to do is sleep and you know he’ll get you to your bed faster. It takes him no time at all to help you to your door and again help you unlock it since you couldn’t seem to get the key in the lock. He leads you inside and sits you on the couch. “You need to drink some water and take some pain pills. You stay here and I’m going to go get those for you.”

“Thanks, Stevie. Always doing the right thing. Always choosing the right girlfriends. I knew that’d never be me.” You kick your heels off as best you can and wrap yourself in your blanket on the couch.

Steve comes back with the water and pills. “What do you mean it would never be you? What are you talking about?”

You snatch the pills out of his hand and swallow them down with the water he offered you. “I just knew I’d never be your girlfriend. Nat lied to me. She told me you felt the same about me. But I knew deep down you didn’t. Why would you? I’m just Y/N. You’re Steve! Handsome, amazing, funny Steve. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re the best I’ve ever and will ever have in bed. And you have a really nice penis.” You start giggling as you lay down. Sleep was starting to take over.

Steve crouches down and touches your cheek. “How do you feel about me, Y/N?”

You smile sadly at him. “Why I love you, Steve. But that doesn’t matter. You have Sharon. Your happy ending.” You close your eyes and feel yourself going under.

Steve sits back and stares at your now sleeping form. You love him. Did you mean it? He’d always heard from a drunk mind comes a sober heart.

He could feel his heart rate increase. What did this mean? You loved him? Why didn’t you ever tell him? Wait. Why was he worried about this? He was getting married tomorrow. He should be worried about the wedding going smoothly.

He shook his head and stood up to head back to his room. You couldn’t have meant it. You were drunk. You didn’t know what you were saying.

Those were the thoughts swimming around Steve’s mind as he tried to catch some sleep.

You wake up on your couch. ‘Huh, I don’t remember getting to my room last night’ You think as you grab your phone to check the time. It’s 11. The wedding starts at 1. Shit. If you were going to make it on time you needed to start getting ready. Did you even want to go?

Just then you hear a knock on your door. You throw your blanket off of you and go to see who it is.

You open your door to reveal Nat with 2 cups of coffee. “Here, thought you might need this. Do you feel as bad as I do?”

You take a sip of the coffee. “Actually, no. I feel fine. Although I don’t remember getting back to my room last night.”

“Oh, yeah. I ran into Sam in the kitchen. Steve helped you to your room. Sam helped me to mine. Apparently I fell down and you were laughing at me.”

You snort into your coffee. “Sorry. But that explains why I don’t feel bad. Steve always makes me drink water and take pain meds when I drink too much and I always wake up feeling ok.”

She glares at you. “At least he was nice enough to do that. Sam just dropped me inside my door and left. I woke up on the floor this morning. He thinks it’s hilarious. That’s ok, I’ll remember this the next time he gets shit faced. So you want me to pick you up at 12:30 and we can go together?”

“Actually I don’t think I’m going. I know it’s going to piss Steve off but I don’t think I can watch him get married. It’ll hurt too much.”

“Okay then I’m staying here with you.”

“No you’re not. You’re going. We don’t need Steve mad at both of us.”

“But you’re my best friend. Rogers will get over it. I want to be here for you.” She grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze.

“That’s really sweet but I’ll really be ok. How about you leave the reception early and sneak a bottle of champagne back and we’ll share it?” You smile at her.

“Okay deal. But I’m only going to stay until they cut the cake. I’ll bring you a piece along with the champagne.” She gives you a wink and heads toward the door. “I know that today is hard for you, bug. Just remember that I love you.”

You smile and blow her a kiss. “I love you too! Now go on and get ready before you’re late.”

As soon as she closes the door behind her you let the tears fall. You knew today would be hard. You just hope he’d eventually forgive you for missing his wedding.

You go take a shower and change into some pajama shorts and a shirt you’d stolen from Steve. Your heart was hurting and all you wanted to do was lay in bed.

You crawl under the covers and hope that sleep will claim you and give you some relief from the pain.

You’re startled awake by a pounding on your door. You glance at your clock and see that it’s 12:55. Nat. She must've decided to skip the wedding. You throw the covers off of you and hurry to the door.

“Nat, I told you to go to the wedding, I’m fine.” You say as you open the door. But it’s not Nat’s green eyes looking at you. It’s Steve’s blue ones. He’s standing there in his tux with the tie undone.

“Steve? Uh, pretty sure you’re getting married in like 5 minutes. What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in? I just called off my wedding so I’m pretty sure I have some angry people looking for me.”

Your eyes widen but you step aside to let him in. “Wait. Why did you call off your wedding?”

He turns around and puts his hands on his hips as he looks at you. “Did you mean what you said?”

You furrow your brows and cross your arms over your chest. “Mean what, Steve?”

“Last night. You don’t remember what you told me?”

You search through your brain for any recollection. “Um, no. Care to enlighten me?”

He takes a step toward you. “You told me you love me. I need to know if that’s true.”

Your eyes widen. God damn tequila. You knew you should’ve stopped after 4 shots.

“Well since it’s apparently out in the open, yes. It is true. Of course I love you.” You can feel your hands shaking. Nervous about what he’ll say.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I was going to! But then you told me you were going to ask out Sharon so I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

He furrows his brows. “What? Why wouldn’t you?”

You turn away from him as you speak. “Because, she’s perfect. She’s beautiful, funny, a total sweetheart. She’d give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. She’s considerate of others. I couldn’t compete with that.” You wrap your arms around yourself. You can once again feel tears welling up.

Steve walks up and turns you around to face him, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right, Y/N. She is all of those things and even more. But do you know what she’s not?” He brings his left hand and cups your cheek. “She’s not you.”

Your breath catches, your heart rate increases. “Wh-what? What are you saying Steve?”

He just smiles at you and pulls you closer. “I’m saying that it’s not her that I love. It’s you. It just took me awhile and your drunken confession to figure it out. I’m sorry it took me so long. I think I’ve always loved you.”

Now the tears are falling for a completely different reason. You reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

He smiles and leans in and presses his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. You gladly reciprocate and smile into it.

Steve groans and pulls you flush up against him. One hand on your cheek, the other on your lower back.

You barely pull away, your lips still touching. “Steve, make love to me please.”

He pulls back a little more to look you in the eye. “Y/N, are you sure? That wasn’t my intention when I came here.”

You nod your head. “I know it wasn’t. But we’ve only ever fucked before. I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to make love instead. So please?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes.

He lightly chuckles before pulling you back in for another kiss, this one more urgent than the last.

You pull him as close to you as possible and start walking backwards towards your bed.

Once you feel your mattress hit the back of your knees you break the kiss for some much needed air.

You waste no time and start undoing the buttons of Steve’s dress shirt. He takes his jacket off and starts unbuckling his belt to help you along. You lift up on your tiptoes to steal another kiss once you get the shirt unbuttoned. You push it off his shoulders and run your hands down his muscular chest. You quickly unbutton his slacks and pull those along with his briefs down his toned legs until they are pooling at his ankles. He quickly kicks them and his shoes off. You take this opportunity and grab his hard, aching cock and start stroking him up and down.

He groans and pushes you away and grabs the hem of his your shirt and gives you a look. “Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N? I’m willing to wait.”

You shake your head continuing your slow strokes. “That’s nice and very noble of you, Steve, but I’m not.”

He shakes his head with a smile and pulls the shirt over your head and drops it into the growing pile of clothes. He pushes you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, stopping once he gets to your exposed breasts. He looks up at you as he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting lightly. That’s all it takes to get you to start squirming under him. He takes his right hand and moves it between your bodies until it’s settled at your clothed core. He starts rubbing your slit, your wetness soaking through your shorts and onto his hand. “Steve, please, no teasing. Just need to feel you.”

He grunts and sits back on his haunches and gazes down at you. “So goddamn beautiful. I don’t deserve you.” He hooks his fingers into your shorts and pulls them down and off your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him.

“I could say the same about you, handsome.”

He smiles down at you and gives his cock a few languid strokes before moving back over you, leaning in for another heated kiss. He rubs his tip over your soaked slit, making sure to get nice and coated. “You ready, sweetheart? Ready for me to fill you up?”

You whine and mewl underneath him. “Yes, Steve, please.” You buck your hips and rub up against his cock causing the both of you to let out a moan. Steve pushes the head of his cock against your heat and slowly pushes in. You whimper at the stretch and pull him down for a kiss. He grabs your right hand and places it beside your head, intertwining your fingers as he bottoms out inside of you.

You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling so nice and full. He takes his right hand and cups your cheek, making you look at him. “Are you ready for me to move, sweetheart?” You can only nod as you roll your hips against his, needing some friction.

He pulls out slowly until just his tip remains before slowly gliding back in. He keeps up his leisurely pace, making you feel every drag of his cock against your walls. You wrap one leg around his hip, making him go even deeper. You plant your other foot on the bed and meet his thrusts. “That’s it, sweetheart. Pull me in deeper. You like feeling me stretch you out? Like me filling you up over and over?”

You moan out and grip his hand tighter. “Yes, Steve! Please. Harder. Need it harder.”

He happily fills your request and starts thrusting into you with more force, causing your body to move up the bed. You remove the hand that was tangled in his hair and place it on the headboard above you, keeping yourself from hitting it. “Fuck, Steve. Yes! Please don’t stop!”

He starts kissing up your neck, his thrusts never faltering. “I’m not gonna stop until you fall apart underneath me, Y/N.”

You shiver at his words. You can feel the coil in your belly threatening to snap at any moment. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. You gonna come for me? Come on, Y/N. Come all over my cock.”

You shake your head and move so you lock eyes with him. “No, don’t wanna come. Feels too good. I want it to last.” He just smiles and leans in for a kiss before pulling away to look into your eyes again. “Come on, Y/N. Wanna feel you come. Please?”

You moan at his begging. You can feel your legs shaking from holding back. You just want to last a little longer.

He moves his mouth back down to your ear. “I’ve got you, sweet girl. Come for me. I love you so much, Y/N.”

That was your undoing. The coil snaps and you come apart. A tear escapes at the intense orgasm and from Steve’s words.

Steve only lasts a few more thrusts before he pushes his face into the crook of your neck and comes with your name on his lips. His body gives out and he falls on top of you, careful not to put all of his weight on you.

He smiles into your neck and places a sweet kiss there. You sigh in pure happiness and run your fingers through his hair. You both stay like that for a few minutes with him still buried deep inside you, enjoying the intimate moment too much to move.

He lifts his head and gazes down at you with a big smile on his face. “That was amazing. The best sex we’ve ever had.” You nod in agreement. “It really was. We’re gonna need to do that again.” You giggle as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “You’re insatiable.” You shake your head. “No, I’m in love.” He smiles and pulls you in for another kiss.

Suddenly a thought pops into your head and you pull away. “What if I would’ve said no?” He gives you a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“What if I didn’t love you? What if I had just been drunk and was saying stupid things?”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “I guess I was just really hoping you meant it.”

“You called off your wedding on hope?”

He shakes his head. “No, I called off my wedding because I realized that Sharon wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted you.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes again. “I love you so much, Steve.”

He leans down for another kiss. “I love you, too. You’re more than just a negotiation to me, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

You nod your head and cup his cheek. “I know that now.”

He tucks some hair behind your ear and whispers, “You’re my happy ending, Y/N.”

The tears fall at his admission and you pull him down for another perfect kiss. Glad to finally be wrapped in the arms of your love.

[andromedia5]

dick and kory slow dancing? or maybe under the stars? or maybe fixing a wound?

I CANT CHOOSE

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I WANT TO DO THE OTHER TWO AND I’LL ADD THEM LATER BUT IF THIS SUCKS I APOLOGIZE I WROTE IT AT LIKE ONE AM AFTER A KINDA SHITTY NIGHTMARE

fixing a wound

“I'm sorry,” he offers lamely from his place on the kitchen counter. Kory scoffs and the next stitch pinches just a little bit more than the last. He probably deserves that. Maybe it’s that being a cop is honestly one of the lower risk things he does but Dick thinks it scares her more when he gets hurt as Officer Grayson than as Nightwing. She tied off the knot and turned to get a bandage. Her hair is pulled up in a mass of thick flaming curls and he can see the smooth, dark skin of her neck. Her shoulders are tense and guilt hits him like a freight train. “Kor, babe . . . c’mon, can you just talk to me?”

Kory slams her hands down on the table so hard the contents of their first aid kit jumps and she spins back around to face him “Why would you not tell anyone you got shot? What about coming all the way back from the precinct with a bullet in your arm sounded reasonable to you?”

“The bullet was never in my arm, it just grazed it.”

“They could have treated you, the medic is barely twenty feet from the bullpen.”

“The department nurses aren’t as cute when they’re worried,”

Her lips quirk upward into what's almost a smile before she presses her lips back together. “Flattery will get you nowhere,”

“Nowhere?”

“Not an inch,”

“Not even an inch?” he teases, tugging her towards him by the belt loops on her jeans. Kory lets her arms fall around his neck, fingers carding through the curls of his hair as she looks at him appraisingly. This was about as close to forgiveness he was going to get at the moment and, satisfied that she probably won’t hit him, he drops his face in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped around her. Kory always exuded warmth, and he felt goosebumps trail up his bare arms and chest as he breathed in her familiar scent of coconut oil, and honey and sweatshirt clad teenagers exploring the chilly beaches of Titans Tower.

“This is why,” he mumbles into her shoulder and he absently wonders if she’ll carry him to bed if he falls asleep right here. “I’m not staying an extra hour so some dinosaur of an M.E who’s been on the force longer than some of our guys, myself included, have been alive can look at me and confirm that ‘yes, I did get shot’.”

“When you could come home so some Tamaranian, who is your age, can look at you and confirm that ‘yes you did get shot’.” she finishes.

“Exactly,”

She laughs and if he could capture the sound like fireflies in a jar he would.

It isn’t until they’re lying in bed and he’s staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her breathing that he knows that that isn’t ‘exactly’. It’s that he needs to be with her. Always, when everythings fine, when a bullet tears through his side, rain or shine, everything. She knows he loves her, literally anyone who spends a second with them does, but there’s no way she’ll ever get how . . . Dick isn’t even sure if there’s a word for it in English. Or Romani, or any other language he can think of. Something incoherent about soulmates and other halves floats through his head before a hand flops onto his face. Kory’s turned over in her sleep and he tries not to laugh as he gently picks up her wrist and moves it. She curls into his arms and snores lightly, head resting on his chest and his heart aches with how much he loves her. Maybe that’s what it is. She’s an anchor, bringing him back home again and again.