#The aftermath of The Bite? Well. I don’t know what else you could do for either Fredbear or Spring Bonnie in moments like that- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chokepoet · 8 months

Text

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

#this used to be 10k words lol #I’ve rewritten it soooo many times #Roman Roy #Succession #Succession HBO #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy one shot #roman roy fanfic #roman roy imagine #succession smut #succession fanfic #succession imagine #succession one shot #mine #can’t believe I’m following up kittens & perverts w/ this filth lmao #it still doesn’t feel perfect but she’s about to confiscate the phone from me if I keep rewriting this lol #cruelty & empathy

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thisisourlovestory · 29 days

Text

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Wordcount- 3.9k

Notes- okay so this has taken a lot longer than I thought it would but it’s here now finally. And I have changed my url so I’m sorry if you thought this was some random person tagging you

Chapter 6

I woke up the next morning sprawled across my bed and tangled in the sheets. I stumbled up and made my way into the dining area, only bothering to wrap a dressing gown around myself so as to not expose my arms. Unfortunately Lysander greeted me much too cheerfully the second I stepped foot in the room, with a wide grin and loud words.

“Good morning!” He trilled. “Sit, sit and eat. You have an important day ahead of you.” I slumped down into a seat and grabbed an apple, biting into the crisp red skin and sinking my teeth deep into its flesh.

“So what did you get up to with the lovely Megara last night?” He inquired as an avox served him a plate of toast piled with eggs and cheese and ham. I judged his choice in food for a moment and then almost snorted as his words registered in my mind. He certainly wasn't being subtle at all I thought as Finnick and Mags entered and seated themselves. I took another bite out of my apple and grinned.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of silk pyjama shorts and a loose top. Megara was sprawled across my bed, shovelling ice cream into her mouth as fast as physically possible. She noticed me and smacked the bed.

“Sit.” I sat. “Now spill. You and Finnick flipping Odair.” I sighed.

“Pass me a cupcake. No, not that one. No, no, yes. Thanks.” I peeled the case off and bit into it, the rich chocolate and caramel spreading across my tongue. “I found out when I first got it.” I showed her my wrist and she inspected it closely. “We were, well we were friends I suppose. After I won that is. I saw his once, it was an accident. I don’t think anyone else really knows he even had one.” I took another bite of my cupcake. “We kinda stuck together for a couple of years. He helped me through the aftermath and the nightmares and everything.” She looked at me curiously.

“So what happened?”

“Annie Cresta happened. When she won everything changed. You know how the boy she went in with that year was decapitated and she lost it?”

“Everyone knows, though the Capitol tries to brush over it.” I laughed quietly.

“Well when she came back she was absolutely broken. She couldn’t function by herself. So Finnick helped her. At first I knew it was necessary, she probably would have offed herself otherwise, but the days passed to weeks and weeks to months. He had just,” I breathed, “He had just left me and gone to her.”

Megara's mouth opened in a shocked expression.

“You would’ve been fifteen?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“And he just, what, abandoned you?” I shrugged.

“Love is weird. It comes and goes at the most unexpected of times and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” She placed a hand on her forehead.

“Okay, sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

“The nightmares came back, I spiralled, I spent I think two months here. Doing shows, staying as far away from them as I could. I mainly talked to Effie and Haymitch.” I smiled fondly. “They were really something. Always bickering and picking at each other like an old married couple. They made me laugh a lot, the only thing I laughed at really. Then it all changed again. But that’s not relevant.” I ignored her look and powered ahead. “I stopped talking to anyone, unless I had to, I wouldn’t say a word. I sang at shows but nothing more. And that was my life I guess. Not happy, not sad. It just was.”

Megara unexpectedly leapt across the bed and engulfed me in a hug.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that.” She pulled away. “I can't imagine if I met my soulmate and then had to pretend like they meant nothing to me.” I smiled back at her sadly.

“Like I said, love is weird. And why would he want me when he has her.” With that I flopped down in bed and curled up in a ball. “Goodnight.”

“We didn't do anything interesting. I ate a bit then fell asleep. I was tired.” I smiled tightly at Lysander, a glint of challenge in my eyes before my gaze slipped to my plate and I took a second bite out of my apple. It tasted like ash in my mouth. “What's on the agenda today?” With that his eyes lit up and he beamed.

“Training.”

As it turned out, training was in fact the only thing on the agenda. I walked into the room and was greeted by the sight of the majority of the other tributes already showing off. My eyes flicked around the room for a second, Finnick was already bothering Katniss, the girl looked extremely unimpressed at him showing her how to tie a knot in the rope and didn't even try to hide her disgusted expression as he pretended to hang himself. I made my own way over to the survival skills section, I immediately picked up two pieces of wood and began to rub them together to little effect. Just as I was about to give up a shadow appeared above me.

“You have to rub quicker, and lower down.” Katniss took the sticks from me and demonstrated. “See.” I nodded slowly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” With that she turned and made her way to one of the compartmentalised training rooms, grabbing a bow and a sheaf of arrows along the way. I watched from a distance as she put an arrow through each glowing hologram that appeared. I started as I saw one holding an axe and it immediately disintegrated, a small bolt of fear shooting through me. Were they supposed to represent us? My question was answered as another showed up holding a trident and resulted in the same fate. The closer I watched, I could see more similarities between the holograms and all the people stood watching. Johanna and Finnick were obvious, two appearing next to each other and reacting in sync, Cashmere and Gloss, one with long, sharp nails that none of the others had, Enobaria. A really burly one, Brutus and a couple of spindly ones, the morphlings.

Bile rose in my throat as Katniss annihilated them all. Then just as everyone thought the simulation had ended, a final hologram appeared. Smaller and thinner than all the others and it threw a golden blaze at her which she ducked and suddenly an arrow was lodged in it and it dissolved like all the others. It was clear that it was supposed to be. All the movements of the other holograms had been techniques the corresponding victors used in their games, the weapons they were most famed for using. And the Capitol had simply taken those moves and projected them into the simulation. But for me, the only moves I had back then were throwing that one knife and then my shoes. So that was what they had to use. I stayed frozen in my spot as the others stared at Katniss, contemplating looks in their eyes. I could see the cogs turning in their brains, they wanted her as their ally, who wouldn't to be honest. She was the favourite to win at the moment- perhaps also Finnick- and she would get sponsors upon sponsors. I watched her gaze pass over all of them to settle on me; I stared back at her blankly for a moment before she looked over to Peeta who stood watching her from the camouflage station, his arm covered in detailed paintings of rocks and tree bark. He smiled slightly and turned back to his work.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see a grinning Finnick.

“Quite the spectacle she's put on wouldn't you say?” He asked and I hummed in response. “She'd be a good ally.” I shrugged.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” He scoffed. “With an aim like that she could take out all of us in a matter of seconds.” My lip quirked upwards at his words. He didn't know just how true they were.

“I suppose, but if she was your ally, one wrong move and you'd be six feet under. But by all means, ally with the girl on fire; when she decides to kill you- don't say I didn't warn you.” I spun on my heel and strode away from him, my shoulder tingled where he had touched me and I felt a tug in my chest at the growing distance. It was as if the more time we spent around each other the more the- well I suppose the word that the Capitol used to describe it was a bond- the more the bond seemed to recognise us as soulmates and tried to drag us together. It was the only reasonable explanation for why he was talking to me.

I walked with my head down, stepping to the side to avoid bumping into other people. I made my way to a station where the two from district 3 had settled themselves at after struggling to light a fire and were fiddling around with wires and bolts. I sat myself down and picked up a few thin pieces of bronze metal. I twisted them together, intricately weaving them in a complicated pattern so they formed a pin of sorts. I twisted my hair up and stuck it through, the metal scraping along my scalp as I shook my head to make sure it was secure.

“The gamemakers won't be too impressed with that.” Beetee spoke quietly from beside me and I made a face.

“I don't really care. They're the ones hiding behind a forcefield.” His gaze sharpened.

“How do you know that?” I shrugged in response.

“The shimmer in the corners. Makes it look a bit like glass but they don't want us to know they're afraid of us and glass is too noticeable. Next best thing is a forcefield, I mean it uses a lot of the energy in this place. Zaps it like,” I snapped my fingers, “that, but most people won't know how to recognise it at all so they can keep up their pretences without worrying about one of us trying to murder them where they stand.”

Beetee stared at you for a second before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“A scholar I see.”

“Just curious.”

“Not even some adults back home would be able to tell me that.” Beetee murmured. “You've done your research.” I looked up to the gamemakers.

“Well,” I spoke softly, scratching at my wrist absently,”you never know what they'll throw at you and it's always good to be prepared.” He hummed in assent as Wiress tugged on a loose strand of my hair, babbling nonsense under her breath. I gently extracted myself from her fingers and wished them a pleasant day, a hint of sarcasm in my voice, before I left them to fiddle with their little toys.

I found myself wandering through the huge building, mindlessly gazing around. My eyes flitting over the white surfaces, shining brightly in the even whiter light from the ceilings. All of a sudden I heard voices. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, was that Finnick and Haymitch? Talking to Plutarch Heavensbee? I listened intently, pressing myself against the wall next to the tiny crack in the door to hear better. My eyes gradually widened with each sentence that left their mouths, I couldn't believe it myself, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been hearing it directly from the source. They stopped talking and I ran. I sprinted down the corridors and to the lifts, frantically pressing the buttons as I entered and running out just as quickly. I didn't slow down until I slammed the door to my room shut and launched myself onto my bed, clutching a pillow so hard my knuckles started to turn white. They were planning to get Katniss out of the games and start a revolution. A revolution. My mind repeated those words for minutes, my mouth moving to spell it out in disbelief. Slowly the disbelief I felt faded into determination. They clearly hadn’t been about to tell me anything about it, I wouldn’t be included in their alliance. But I could sure as hell help.

Throughout the next couple of days, I woke up as early as possible to train without anyone watching me. I would take my ballet shoes down with me and wear them as I threw knives at the holograms, rise onto my toes and dance around them in circles until my feet were bleeding and bruised. The pain only made me work harder, if I could fight with my feet broken beneath me then I could run forever and wouldn’t feel a thing. On the last day before the games would begin I did the same as I had been. But when I had destroyed the holograms a hundred times over I didn’t stop, I dropped the daggers in my hands and closed my eyes as I spun and leapt. For the first time in years no one was watching me and I could just dance. Even on the train there had been cameras pointed at me but in the interest of not wanting anyone to get mad and try to kill them the gamemakers had left the training room cameraless. So I danced as if I was a child again and my mother was watching me from the door of the house cheering me on. And then I fell. My ankle gave out beneath me and I crashed to the floor. I landed on my side, my arms crossed to hold my head off the floor. I pushed myself up and undid my shoes; pulled them off my feet and stood up. When I fell I had accidentally pressed a button and holograms had appeared again. I reached down to grab the daggers again as they advanced towards me.

“You wanna play?” One of them threw the knife they were holding at me. It skimmed my cheek; I lifted a hand up to touch it. My fingers came away red and I laughed quietly. “Fine, I’ll play.” With that something inside me cracked and I leapt forward. I was like a hurricane as they all rushed at me and I weaved through the gaps leaving bloody footprints wherever I stepped. I rained down blow after blow on them, if holograms could bleed I would have been covered. But they couldn’t bleed and they couldn’t die, they just disintegrated into orange sparks whenever my blade hit home in their rib cages only for more to take their place. I dodged and threw and stabbed until I thought the simulation ended and I stood in the centre of the room. The air moved and in the blink of an eye I spun and struck, the last thing I saw of the hologram was the trident in it's hand. Then I heard the clapping.

I turned around quickly to see Johanna watching me. I quickly stepped outside.

“What do you want?” She grinned.

“Who knew you could fight princess. I’d actually be quite impressed if I didn’t think you’d payed for some poor Capitol bastard to teach you.” A hysterical giggle forced itself out of my throat and for a second an unreadable expression passed over her face like a cloud. I picked up my shoes by the ribbons and let them dangle by my legs as her eyes went to my feet. “Aww did standing up by herself for a moment make the princesses feet hurt?” I swallowed.

“You don’t know me Johanna Mason.” I spat. “You don’t know anything about me so do not make assumptions about things that you do not understand.” She watched me walk away, yelling after me.

“See you later princess.” I ignored her, focusing on not leaving a trail of blood back to the room.

A few hours later, after I had bandaged up my feet, I headed back down for the evaluations. The others were already there and I sat down at the end of a bench. Feeling eyes on me I looked up and locked eyes with Katniss, she stood up and made her way over to me. She sat down silently and I looked at the pin she had on her top.

“A mockingjay.” She looked up at me surprised.

“Yeah. How did you know?” I laughed.

“Some members of the Capitol have them as pets. Ones they managed to catch after the jabberjays bred with mockingbirds. They domesticated them and have them sing all day every day.” My voice turned sharp. “They don’t like being reminded of their failures so they turn them into spectacles.” My head turned as the robotic voice spoke ‘Y/N L/N report for evaluation.’ I stood up slowly and walked past Finnick who was exiting and into the training room. I was greeted by the sight of the gamemakers laughing and talking with each other, completely ignoring my presence as I made my way over to the weapons stand. One of them spared me a glance before dismissing me. They knew who I was and they didn’t think I was a threat. I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes and realised something. The force field was strong if it was concentrated, but it was only being held together by four balls that it was projected out of, one in each corner creating a screen. So it was strong at the outside but where it all met in the centre would be weaker. I grinned at my revelation and practically skipped back to the table with the knives on. I picked one up and balanced it on my finger, I quickly looked around and grabbed a long piece of rope, tying it around the handle. I twisted the end of the rope around one hand and pirouetted, as my head whipped to the front I let the knife fly through the air, right through the centre of the forcefield. It embedded itself in a piece of watermelon and then the wall. I gripped the rope harder and yanked towards me, I caught the knife and raised the dripping red fruit up to my mouth to take a bite as I curtseyed deeply, dipping my head and letting my foot slide as far behind as possible. I smiled sweetly at their horrified expressions. You can almost see the thoughts running through their heads I mused as I walked calmly out of the room, head held high.

I was waylaid by Lysander who dragged me back to the room and made Finnick and I sit until the scoring was announced hours later, I was almost falling asleep in my chair. Yawning widely and eyes drooping until the music sounded and I bolted up. The second Gloss’ photo appeared on screen with a score of 10 flashing under him my heart sank. My little outburst would probably not have gained me anything other than a low score. The rest of the careers had predicatably high scores, Brutus an 11 and Finnick the same. Lysander screeched happily at his score, patting him on the back furiously and I murmured my congratulations. Then it was my turn. My face appeared on the screen and a bright bold number 12 flashed underneath it. I spat out my water in shock and blinked rapidly as Lysander gaped at the screen. Mags patted me gently on the shoulder, giving me a small smile; Finnick leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“Congratulations angel.” The nickname shook me out of my trance.

“Angel?” He shrugged and gave me an easy smile.

“Yeah, you looked like an angel on the chariots and you certainly act like an angel, especially with that little girl.” His voice turned serious. “But something tells me you aren’t such an angel as everyone thinks you are.” My lip twitched and I forced it to stay in a straight line.

“Maybe you’re right.” I turned around, my back to him, his eyes searing into my skin as I whispered. “But some things cannot be determined with a passing glance.”

The next day was the day of the interviews. I was slumped in a chair, clad in a silk robe, as my prep team scoured my body. They perfected every imperfection they could find until my skin was like a blank canvas. All the while they chattered, asking me not so subtly about my evaluation score and even less subtly if I had a soulmate- thankfully they didn’t question my insistency that I covered my wrist while they ‘cleaned me up’. I ignored them for the most part until Priscilla began to waffle on about Finnick. I clenched my fists and tried to block her out, waiting for her to finish. But she wouldn't stop, she went on and on about him, his… relationships with Capitol women and then what a shame it was that he might die. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms until I felt pinpricks of pain and saw tiny specks of blood beading on my skin. I settled for fiddling with the robe until they left. The girls walked through the door giggling with each other as Quintus turned around to me.

“I understand how you feel.”

“What?” I asked confused.

“You have a soulmate yes?” I nodded slowly. “But he either doesn’t want you or doesn’t know about you.” I nodded again.

“The second.”

“I had a soulmate once.”

“You did?” I mumbled.

“It was about 15 years ago. I had just started working here for the games and she was a tribute.” He laughed slightly and ran his hand through his hair. “She hated me, I tried to get her to run away with me before the games could start but she wouldn’t let the kid from her district die even if it meant she lived. They only lasted 5 days in the arena.” He smiled sadly. “But those last couple of days she was alive and I got to see her were the best couple of days in my life.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered.

“Don’t waste time. Every second with the ones we love is precious.” Just as suddenly as he had begun the conversation he left the doorway, leaving me in silence.

Soon enough Megara came in, laden with bags upon bags containing god knows what. She dragged a chair over and sat down opposite me. She pulled out a teapot and two cups before setting them down on the table ignoring my incredulous look. She poured tea into the two cups added a splash of milk and sugar to one and gave me an inquisitive look. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I poured milk into the cup and spooned 3 teaspoons of sugar into the cup.

“So honey, how are you feeling about the interviews?”

“Honey? Aren’t you younger than me.”

“Nope,” she popped the p,” I’m 24.” I sighed.

“They can only go so badly right.” She grinned; took a sip of her tea, placed it down, stood up and walked over to a huge bag hung up on the door.

“I suppose we’ll see then.” She unzipped the bag and I gasped.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @thatonegayloser616 @livibbu @cherrsnut @honethatty12 @miserablebl00d @yourmumstoy @wonderland2425 @fairy-alix @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21 @abbersreads @tenshis-cake

#finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick x you #the hunger games #finnick odair x you #thg x reader #catching fire #angst

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loudblonde · 9 months

Text

Perfectly Content, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Male Reader

Summary:

Simon comes home to find his husband missing, distraught he gets his team to help find him, only to end up getting shot by a poison-laced bullet.

Or Simon's husband is more badass and connected than even Price realises.

word count: 3,4K

warnings: the aftermath of torture, getting shot, almost dying, violence

author note: The ending was a wee bit rushed as my arm was starting to hurt too much,

Ghost knew from the moment he saw (Y/N), that no matter what, that man meant more to him than he could ever comprehend and that scared him more than he could explain.

(Y/N) wasn’t even military, he was a civilian that Ghost had met out and about, an accidental bump into each other… It was like something out of a romance book. (Y/N) had grabbed Simon and forced his heart to beat to his rhythm. Ghost was trapped in the emotions and it scared him.

He knew he had more enemies than he could count and for one of them to get a hold of someone innocent… he was terrified, more terrified than he had ever been living under Mister Riley’s roof.

So, he hid him away from everyone, (Y/N) had no family, no friends, he had been completely new to town and the idea of falling in love quickly hadn’t been something (Y/N) had seemed against. Ghost had bought a plot of land in a forest where an old house stood on it, he had gotten water, electricity and Wi-Fi out there, so his perfect little civilian husband never lacked anything. Sure, he would buy in bulk at the grocery store nearby, but (Y/N) never seemed to dislike it or complain. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

Simon wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, he kissed the back of his neck, letting the morning rough beard he had yet to shave scratch over his neck. (Y/N) chuckled and leaned back against him. “Si, I am cooking waffles, a little patience, please.” There was no bite to the sentence.

“I know… my love. I know.” Simon said. “But you just looked so delicious from behind.” That comment earned him a light jab in the ribs. He glanced at the fruit cut up for the day, perfect cubes as always, Simon didn’t know who else had such complete mastery of knives. (Y/N) always said his mother had been very strict about knife safety though there was more to it than that… Simon simply didn’t care more than just observing it. He didn’t massively care, he just found it… strange?

“If you keep sweet talking me, then we won’t get to eat the waffles before they are stale.” (Y/N) said with a slight smirk.

Simon hummed. “That would be a disgrace to your cooking, I can’t do that against you.” He spoke.

(Y/N) smiled and leaned his head to the side, he kissed Simon gently. “Why don’t you make the table, then I will handle the waffles?”

Simon kissed him again before detaching. He went through the simple demand- request and happily made the table. He looked at their white tablecloth, it held no stains. Simon wasn’t sure how but he knew it to be magic. There was no other plausible way to explain it other than that.

Soon, scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, beans and waffles were brought to the table, alongside a cup of black tea and black coffee. Simon took a sip of the coffee and smiled. “I miss your coffee whenever I am away.”

(Y/N) sat down and looked at the man he loved more than anything else. He smiled widely. “Well, then you just have a reason to get home to me as soon as possible.” He said and chuckled.

“That I do,” Simon said.

Marriage life, away from missions and the blood, death and tears of his job, was paradise comparable. He loved every moment and hated the goodbyes, for he knew that one day may very well be the last.

-------

Simon returned home, still halfway stuck as Ghost, his mind was reeling from the latest mission. He needed (Y/N). More so than normally. He hated and dreaded when missions got bad, but (Y/N) always had a way to bring him back from even the hardest and most repressed places. Simon knew he could trust (Y/N), he knew him to be safe.

"(Nickname), I am home,” Simon said as he entered, not finding it unusual that the door was unlocked this time of the day. He got no reply which worried him. Simon entered their living room from the foyer and was met with the sight of blood, broken furniture and bullet casings, his blood went cold as all possible enemies who could have targeted the ones he loved went through his head.

Panic set in as everything started stirring around him. He pulled out his phone and dialled one of the few numbers he had bothered to save. Price. It rang once before he heard Price pick up, before he could even say hello, Ghost spoke, “He is gone. There was a struggle.”

The line went silent for a few seconds. “Look for a body, I will contact Laswell. Make sure to not touch anything, if there is a note it will be visible.” Price said before sighing. “How are you holding up?”

“Just get Laswell.” Ghost said and hung up. He searched his house for hours, going over everything but there was no ransom note or even a claim to who had done it, which was mysterious. Though he had found more guns and knives strapped around the house than he had even brought in. Something was going on.

Price entered the house with Laswell and a few others from a research team. “You live very far out.” Price said as the team began. “If you hadn’t told me I would never have been able to find this place.”

“It’s home.” Ghost said, his mask still placed on. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything or anyone.” He sighed at that. “Yet… someone came looking for me and found someone innocent.”

“We will find him, Simon.” Price said. “Don’t even worry about it.” Price added as he touched his shoulder, he could see as Simon became Ghost, the tenseness of his shoulders ease eerily, his breathing slowed down and true to Ghost fashion, only his eyes revealed the true broken man inside.

“Of course, we will.” Soap said as he entered. He looked to Ghost with a sigh. “I didnae ken what this man means to you, but he must be special. That is all any of us needs.” Soap said and placed his fist against Ghost's shoulder. Ghost ignored the obvious signs of Soap having been home and comfortable enough with his family to let not only the accent slip but also talk more casual Scots around them. He tried to stop himself from a spiral of guilt but ultimately failed as his vision started honing in around him, black spots danced around his eyes- Simon felt Price's hand on his other shoulder.

“Good to have you back with us, son.” Price said as Ghost made eye contact. Both men shared a nod as they all let the forensics work the house. They found some blood that had to be tested and ran through their database, but other than that, there was nothing to indicate who came to go through the house.

As the team headed back to base, Simon had to wonder, would (Y/N) even be alright? Was his husband being tortured or was he dead already? Those thoughts hunted him.

-----

(Y/N) had been having a perfectly normal day off definitely only waiting for his husband to return from whatever war crime he and his team was up to this time around. He liked the peace of having a husband away, Simon was a good cover that he had come to love. It was not even a surprise the moment people came through the door, especially not when (Y/N) had many enemies of his own. He had so many in fact, he had died and taken on a new identity, perhaps he should have changed his first name… nah, he liked it so much.

He sighed heavily as yet another person entered the room with whatever torture gear, they thought would make him talk. (Y/N) knew better than to talk, he had been taught since childhood not to talk. He was exceptional in surviving torture, he had the scars to prove it, scars his husband never saw as all sex was done with the lights off, he knew his husband had issues with his own scars so he simply never pushed.

“You are going to give us what we want.” The not at all creative nor fun torturer said.

“For the last time, I do not know where this Ghost person is, I don't even know them!” He pleaded with false fear. He needed to get out, Simon was bound to be home anytime now and he just should not see the bruises and cuts all over his body… Simon would ask too many questions and… (Y/N) realised he would need to wait.

“Oh please, I know who you are, Iron Spider.” The torturer said making (Y/N) still completely. The tension in the room grew as (Y/N) stilled cold dead eyes on the man's back. “So, tell me, where is this little… pet project of yours.”

“If you knew who I was, then why even try to take me, I won't talk and you know that, don’t you?” He said, each voice careful and with a still tone.

“I have gotten Red Room Widows to talk, I can get you to talk as well.” The man said, bringing over what looked like a fucked-up knife. “Well, shall we?”

—

The team landed on the ground outside of a barn in southern Jutland, the air whipped around them as the helicopter took off again. Everyone was deadly still as they approached the barn, each second felt like hours as blood rushed through their ears, deafening them. Everything was alive around them. The mission was anything but simple.

One quick entry of the barn and already 4 enemy soldiers were dead. They had gotten reliable intel from one of Laswell’s more shady friends. (Y/N) was going to be there and not in good condition. Ghost used the anger of knowing (Y/N), his husband, was getting tortured.

They went down the hatch, killing everyone in the way, this seemed too easy but Ghost did not care, they had taken something of his and he was going to get it back.

Chatter filled his ears but it wasn’t important enough to be filtered through, they cleared room after room, getting everything dealt with before entering the final room. A man stood behind a torn up and bloodied (Y/N), two of his fingers were missing, and his shins looked broken and fucked up beyond repair, Ghost, at a single glance, could count well over 20 visible stab wounds, the worst part is, (Y/N)s right arms skin had been peeled back showing muscle tissue and veins freely. Ghost knew who this man was, his codename was infamous despite how silly it was, Chip, no last name or first name, allegedly some criminal family empire nepo-baby, a rumour had it he was ex-military. He didn’t doubt that at all.

“Ah, the infamous Ghost, thank you so much for making my job easier for me.” This Chip said and shot at Ghost with no warning. Ghost felt the bullet lodged into his shoulder, it felt like it had gone straight through but something felt wrong, he couldn’t hear how much (Y/N) screamed despite seeing his mouth move and himself trash around in the chair, Simon knelt down as pain soared through him, the bullet had been laced with something and he didn’t know what.

Someone pushed him onto his back and applied pressure on the wound. He barely remembered anything as his thoughts went dark.

—

Swimming

Cold wet

Swimming

Simon was swimming in water where he knew not the direction of up or down. All was pitch black, too dark for his own thoughts to even shine a light through it.

Simon knew time had passed but not how much

He was swimming again

In and out

Up and down

Careful and around

Voiceless

Thoughtless

Cold

Cold as ice

—

Watching Simon recover not only from a well-placed bullet wound but also from the poison of this Chip person was hard, (Y/N) knew he should have just risked blowing his cover and gotten out. His husband, who didn’t deserve anything like this, was dying. His contact was working on a cure, but Chip, being the son of the infamous Pitfall Viper, his poison would be bulletproof… (Y/N) had to stop his dark humour, it was only making him feel worse than he actually should.

“It has been a week,” Price's now familiar voice came from the door. “How are you holding up?”

Like Shit. (Y/N) thought but didn’t say it out loud. “I could be better but I have hope.”

“… Listen… I spoke with Kate and they interrogated this guy… Iron Spider is a myth and legend, why is he claiming that you are him…” Price said.

“If you ask, you already know the answer, John… I am not in the business anymore; I haven’t been in 20 years.” (Y/N) answered the question.

“Does Simon know?” Logically the next question.

“No.”

A sigh came from Price, reminding him just how shitty he felt. “Don’t you think he deserves to know?” Price is a man with a heart despite everything.

“… Tell me something Captain,” (Y/N) turned to him. “Wouldn’t you be hiding your ugly past from someone you love to protect them? I erased my whole existence, spent a decade making certain that I was named a myth and not a real breathing man.”

Price leaned back. “So, you love him?”

“With whatever is left of my soul and my whole heart… I was born into a world of murder and killing. Whatever we did and learned was always just to kill more as more people, there wasn’t an end… so, when I did see an end to it, I took it and I got out, no one before me or after me will ever get that privilege.”

Price frowned. “You say it is still happening today.”

“Are you even surprised? You have been working with anti-terrorism for as long as I have heard about you, why would people not be using children to start and end wars? It is no different than all child soldiers you have been shot at or shot yourself.” (Y/N) was calm, far too calm for Price's liking.

“That is different.”

“It really isn’t. You all get on this high and mighty horse. Yes, you have by all means saved the world from World War Three, but you are all just as bad as every single war criminal out there. This whole imperialist ideology you have been brainwashed with…. It is worse than any brainwashing done by the red room because you actually believe in it.” (Y/N) grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair and left the room, leaving the captain to think and stew. (Y/N) knew he wasn’t going to run away or even escape from Simon, he loved Simon and Simon was dying for him… guilt he didn’t know he could feel wrapped its nauseating coils around his stomach, trying to force bile up through his throat. He didn’t allow it, he suppressed it deep down where all his other weaknesses resided. Weakness Mother was supposed to have trained him. He grimaced as he poured himself some hot coffee, it burnt his tongue… life as a civilian truly had made him weaker, Chip had been right at that, but (Y/N) prided himself on not being weak enough to reveal anything about Simon. He brought back a cup for both him and Price. He gave the man the cup and sat down.

“He wanted information on Simon, where he was and I think it is safe to assume we know why now… from what I know, you should be well aware of his mother, The Pitfall Viper.” (Y/N) said, humming lightly under his breath. “She was…. She is, she didn’t die, her accounts are still active and while it isn’t uncommon for others to run it, her whole family are very, the best word would be independent, from the rest of the more refined criminal empire of the world.”

Price looked down at his cup. “So, will his poison kill him?” Price asked, a slight shake to his voice betraying the cool and collected ‘Captain John Price’ persona he had.

“No… I have someone working on the antidote. It will be rough but he already has been given something to slow it down.” He informed the other before taking a sip of his now moderately hot coffee. “And if he doesn’t make it till then, I will work with you to bring down anyone or anything responsible for his death.”

“And if he survives?”

(Y/N) paused at that, the words swelled in his mouth to choke him. He had avoided it for years, been lying straight to Simon’s face… he wasn’t sure Simon would trust him after this. “He knows the whole truth… and if he still wants me, I will repair everything and do anything to make it alright.”

“And when he doesn’t?” Price asked.

(Y/N) looked at Simon. “Then I leave and no one will ever see me again.”

“Little hard to do on a wheelchair.” Price said.

(Y/N) chuckled and looked at Price. “You think that I don’t already have a plan in place? I survived the Red Room and survived escaping it. Sure, my sisters are more deadly than I am, but you can’t be a slob and escape.”

“How old were you when you escaped?” Price asked.

(Y/N) smiled a bit as he leaned back. “15. Which makes me 36 this year and Simon is only a few years older than I am. Price, I… love Simon, he is my weakness and the only one I would trust with my whole life. I have been taking care of him and him. We are good for each other and you can’t deny that.”

“I am not denying it, I have seen more of Simon than of Ghost for the last 3 years. Thank you for that, it is the only reason why I haven’t had you arrested yet.” Price said.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, you haven’t had me arrested because you fully know that you can’t, you have nothing on me, no one does. Iron Spider doesn’t exist and no one can testify that he does. He is a myth created to scare rookies. Don’t fuck up or get corrupt or the Iron Spider will get you.”

“The Soldier Bogeyman then.” Price said. “And you are content with that?”

“I am more than content with it. I love it. It means I can be with Simon and bring him back from the brink.”

Price stood up as a nurse entered the room. “I hope you are right about this.” Price left.

The nurse waited until Price left before looking at (Y/N). “You know, I never thought he would shut up.” The ‘nurse’ said.

(Y/N) chuckled a bit. “It is good to see you too, V.”

“You are lucky my idiotic son writes everything down, but I can’t promise this will cure him, he may stay in his coma for weeks or forever,” V said.

“That is fine, just give him a chance.” He said before watching her inject it into the IV drip. They said their quick goodbyes and (Y/N) stayed truly loyal to Simon and stayed while he slept.

—

It took 5 weeks before Simon woke up. (Y/N) was present and coached Simon through waking up. He had lost a lot of muscle mass, and he was much thinner than usual, but compared to a regular human, Simon still held some shape.

The conversation they had a week later once they were both in the sanctity of home was full of tears and apologies, Simon understood and knew but it still hurt. But they eventually figured it out. Simon’s rehabilitation and (Y/N)’s eventual rehabilitation were done together. (Y/N) taught Simon how to handle a civilian life away from the military and the action. It was hard but, in the end, they carved out a beautiful life with a retired service dog called Riley.

______

Aaaand that's it! Happy ending for you all!

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#cod x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod men x male reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x you #male reader #lgbt #simon ghost riley #fanfiction

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ensnapemysenses · 4 months

Note

I believe Snape allowed himself to die because living meant alerting Voledmort to the fact that someone else held control of the Elder Wand, therefore risking Draco's life. Because if Voldemort ended up killing Draco then Snape would've died from the Unbreaking Vow anyway, so I assume he preferred death by snake bite/partial tracheostomy than letting a boy whom he magically swore to protect die with him as a result of his initial survival. You seem to grasp his character well. What's your opinion on this?

I believe this could have played a part in it but I think he was just utterly depressed and hopeless and saw a way out so he took it instead of trying to fight it. I don’t think he saw a future for himself — he was a death eater and though they could of course view his memories and make him tell the truth via truth serum we know from Sirius blacks situation they don’t do that. Maybe that’s just terrible world building because they have every means necessary to actually get the truth out of people or maybe it’s just laziness on part of the ministry. Either way Severus saw that there would always be people who would view him negatively and then of course he’d also have the obsessed fans. I just think he’s someone who doesn’t like to draw attention to himself. He’d rather die a painful death than have to face the aftermath of the war and all of the things he did. Being known as Voldemorts right hand man, whether people accepted the truth that he was a spy for Dumbledore or not, would have brought unfathomable amounts of attention his way. Living in the spotlight was never for Severus, he always preferred the cool and dark dungeons that echoed his empty and deprived soul.

#ensnapemysenses #severus snape #pro snape #snape

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bijoumikhawal · 3 months

Text

Bite the Hand that Starves You: Chapter Six

Fic as of this chapter contains: discussion of abortion, references to drug use, intersex and trans characters, torture/graphic violence, colonialism and its aftermath, implied sexual violence, disassociation

Kardasi: peikirvi- would translate to something like "concubine", specifically refers to an individual that socially presents as male, and was assigned such at birth, but can carry children (and often could impregnate someone else), who is legally bound to someone. Usually this is done with a pre-existing couple who has fertility issues.

---

Peikirvi don’t get grand celebrations when they’re added to someone’s family. Women, less commonly men, or more commonly… it didn’t matter.

It is Garak, Barkan, and Palandine. Almost like that night in the garden, many years ago- except now, there is a government official, looking quite bored, and her assistant.

Normally, their parents would be here too. Of course, Garak does not get that comfort. He wonders why they didn’t bring theirs.

The dark coral doesn’t look quite right on Garak’s skin. Palandine and Barkan both naturally look regal in reddened burnt orange. Orange, orange, orange- of course it's all orange. Blue is too improper, even when it's ostensibly the only reason he's here.

Palandine, as the existing spouse, has a structured cap over her hair, to symbolize that she won’t be jealous. Neither of them has been able to make eye contact since they both entered the room. These are the details Garak latches onto as, in turn, they each wash their hands and mouth. The ink of signatures is already drying.

The skimmer isn't outfitted the way it would be if this was a grand celebration either, of course, and there is no procession, no well wishers. It wasn’t that Garak expected any- had ever expected any. He stopped considering the idea that he would have a legally recognized partner after he left Bamarren.

Palandine is sent off so he and Barkan are alone. Barkan stands behind him, stroking his neck ridges.

“How is your leg these days? Your spine?”

“Healed.”

“A pity, what happened during the competition…” Barkan sighed. “I suppose I never explained myself to you.”

“I suppose you didn’t.”

“Shh- this is meant to be a happy occasion. I shouldn't have mentioned it.”

Garak let his shoulder relax under Barkan’s touch instead of pushing himself to resist. “How would you explain yourself?”

“You know how brutal social politics can be, Elim. You were only in your first year… and frankly, you didn't have a strong standing among your peers. If I had awarded you, I realized, it would put a target on your back.” Barkan’s fingers slipped into his mijast, undoing the fastenings. “You would be the one to beat, into submission. It was improper of me to seek out your knowledge in the first place. Hearing how badly you were injured made me realize why.”

“I thought that was an accident.” Barkan stayed behind him, so Garak did not reciprocate the undressing.

“As far as I know, it was. But if that was how bad an accident could be, a purposeful attack…” he was at the lacing on Garak’s supportive garments now. “It was a miserable sight, seeing you use that cane for all those months.”

Garak’s hand curled, remembering the grip of the handle, how smooth it had worn by the end. “I see.”

“You don't.” Barkan’s hands slid over his stomach. “I…”

Garak turned in his arms. “You're still dressed.”

---

This time, Garak wasn't in a decrepit hall, or his shop, or on the promenade. This time, Garak was ill fated to be on a turbolift.

There were many times when he wished stairs were feasible on space stations.

When Barkan laid eyes on him, he turned to his aide, and gestured for them to go off and do who knows what. The doors closed behind him like red curtains.

"How lucky I've become." Barkan mused, voice like a whetstone.

"How unpatriotic." Garak replied. A good Cardassian did not believe in fickle luck- fate was another matter.

Barkan laughed, but didn't go for the obvious barb. He went for a worse one. "That doctor of yours... he's quite young, isn't he? A little younger than you were, when you joined my household."

"I hadn't noticed." Garak said dryly. He was lying, of course, but Barkan didn't know that. It had, once or twice, prickled at him, like straight pins shoved under scales, Julian's youth, and the things that came with it- naivete, exuberance.

It sometimes made him angry. Made Garak want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

"Really?"

"Yes." Garak resisted the urge to elaborate- to say something about Bashir's competence as not just a doctor, but CMO, member of the station senior staff. To further slide in that he was not only a doctor, but a soldier.

Barkan wanted him to talk.

"Strange." Barkan murmured. "You're usually so observant. I suppose you pay more attention to clothes than people these days."

Garak stared at him blankly. Well, not blankly- simply with what, to him, felt like a neutral expression. It tended to make him look a bit sullen.

Barkan tilted his head, smiling. "Well, when you do that, you like you did when we met."

Palandine's advice of smiling as a way of being powerful did not work on this man. Garak’s smile would be evidence of his power. His sullenness would be too, but it was more unpleasant for Barkan.

He hoped it prodded at his wounds, whispered in his ear how did you think this was your caged darling? How blinded by your desires were you not to see the teeth in his maw, the claws at the bend of the wing?

The compartment came to a stop, and the doors opened. Garak left without a word.

Barkan let him.

---

Julian was in line at the Klingon restaurant, trying not to think about work, when he of course ran into his only superior. “Captain.” Julian greeted him with a smile. “I don't usually see you eat out.”

Sisko tipped his head to the side. “Kaga has been pleading with me to try his cooking, on the house, ever since we tied as finalists in a station competition. I gave him a heads up that I'd be taking him up on that offer today- I'm hoping it'll help me relax after all these meetings with Dukat.”

Julian sighed. Dukat and his crew would, thankfully, be leaving in two days. “Speaking of… sir, I have a request.”

It was then that Kaga came to greet his guest. “Captain Sisko! You did not tell me you had a guest!” He clapped a hand on each of their shoulders. “But he will be a great help to you in eating everything I've prepared! Doctor, where have you been hiding?”

Julian opened his mouth to explain that actually, they were both on their own, but a squeeze on his arm from Sisko made him think better of it. “I've just been…” he sighed, “Very busy.”

“Too busy to eat! Pah. You must learn to delegate.” Kaga escorted them to a corner that had been done up nicely, and already was set up with several dishes giving off fragrant steam. They were indeed, more than enough for one person… potentially three. “Sit, sit and eat. Later I will come and entertain you personally, and if T'ustolla does not treat you well in the meantime, he will go in tomorrow's special!”

“That must be the new assistant.” Julian said as Kaga left.

“Hopefully he's a match for Kaga.” Sisko said with a smile. “You had a request of me?” He said, taking the first dish.

“Yes.” Julian looked down at the table. “I understand if you think it's a bad time, sir, but I was hoping to take some leave.”

“Of course. What makes you think it's a bad time?” Sisko asked as he looked around for utensils.

“You eat these with your hands sir, it's like Ethiopian food- well. Recently, we had first contact with the main political power of the Delta quadrant, and it was hostile, possibly irreconcilably so. There's the usual tension with Bajor, increased tension with Cardassia, kunowaat is still going around even if it’s petering out with no new infections, and most likely something I'm forgetting at the moment.”

“To you that sounds like I shouldn't give you leave. To me that sounds like the last chance you may get in awhile, doctor.”

“Oh, don't jinx me.” Julian sighed. “I see your point, though. It'll be a moment before things get worse, and when they do…”

Sisko patted his hand. “Just wait until you've got a decade of service under your belt. Now, is there anything else you wanted from me?”

“No, sir.”

“Then take Kaga's advice and eat.”

---

The rest of their dinner conversation had been light. They'd said their goodbyes to each other, and now Julian was walking. Walking and thinking- found himself thinking about his own... relationship to the idea of children.

One of the things he and Palis understood was that Julian was never having children. She'd been fine with that- understood some of it, even, having a fraught relationship with her own parents that they'd mended after years of effort.

No one knew that a lot of it was for the sane reason as Garak- it simply would be cruel for him to have children. It'd brand them as accomplices, and Julian would rather not repeat his parents mistakes.

He stopped in front of Garak’s quarters.

Naturally, he was here to check in on his friend, as a friend, not as a doctor.

After a moment of thought, Julian buzzed the door. It seemed Garak took a moment to think as well, since the door opened just as Julian was about to press the door buzzer again.

Garak had on his normal clothes this time.

It seemed Garak was in the midst of sewing something, fabric stretched out on the table before him. Fragrant steam floated up from a mug of tea kept in arm's reach.

"New clothes for yourself?" Julian guessed.

"Mm." Garak put down the cutting tool he was using.

"It looks nice." Julian offered.

"Why are you here?"

Julian’s brow knitted in confusion. "I'm checking in on you. I thought you might want to talk again."

"Did you." Garak passive aggressively folded a length of fabric- it made Julian tense, reminding him of his mother.

Julian set his jaw, cautious. "Yes, Garak, I did."

Garak didn't look at him as he kept talking, instead putting the fabric on a shelf under the table. "Well, doctor, I don't. I don't wish to acknowledge whats happened at all- you should know that by now." He hadn't looked at Julian the while time, and he was putting on a a patronizing air, but-

But it was normal, really. Julian breathed. "Alright." If Garak didn't want to talk, that was fine. And he wasn't lying, or at least his lies were consistent- last time, he'd just asked about the pudding. "I still-"

"Came for something else."

"To be... here, yes." Julian felt off balance, but held his ground. Garak had called him last time, and yes, they'd had a misunderstanding, but. Ultimately, Garak had been soothed by him.

Julian wanted to soothe him.

"Why?" Garak asked again. "Just being here is hardly a reason. There's nothing here. I'm in no state to host, and you know this."

Julian stared at him. "I'm not asking you to host me. You don't need to-"

Garak laughed, getting up and walking to the window. "Well, thank you for your clemency. Your permission."

Everything he said was going to be taken badly, wasn't it? Julian sighed- he hadn't figured out how to respond to Garak when he was upset like this yet. "I didn't mean it that way."

"No, I suppose it simply doesn't matter to you." Garak remarked. "That imposing might be inconvenient for others."

He was doing bullshit again, it seemed. Julian bit his cheek, thinking.

Garak had his back to him. "Well? Have anything to say for yourself?"

"Garak... must we do this?"

Garak was still- his shoulders did not twitch, and if his face changed, it was hidden. Unlike last time, and the time before, he had solid control on himself. "Dodging, doctor?"

"You aren't upset that I'm imposing and you aren't in a state to receive guests."

"How do you know? How do you know anything at all?"

"You never cared about it before." Julian pointed out. Admittedly, Garak had only invited him over once or twice before- before this, and the wire. But he hadn't cared then. There'd been the clutter of life around then, and it wasn't that anything special was prepared. They had drinks from the replicator and draped themselves over the too-hard chairs.

"Perhaps I've realized I've been improper and wish to change."

Julian raised his brows, thinking back on their interrupted lunch. "Improper?"

"Classless. Whichever word you like."

Julian frowned. "That's not it either."

That made Garak snap and turn to him. "Then perhaps it's this, doctor: I want you to leave, and wanted to-"

"Be polite about it?" Julian couldn't help himself. The second part was so ridiculous- nothing about Garak’s attempts had been polite. His tone conveyed all that disbelief exactly.

Garak’s face was set and cold. "So clever. So... quick."

This had been a mistake. Or had it? Julian still didn't know why Garak was acting like this, and didn't buy that him coming by had incited it. Mistake implied he could've avoided it.

In any case, he was at a loss for what to do. "Garak..." He tried again, and it hung in the air, lonely and ineffective.

"Good night, doctor." Garak turned away from him again.

Julian reached for him for a second, then, remembering, took his hand back. He nodded to himself and left.

He walked a few yards of corridor before the overwhelming need to stop came over him. He leaned against the wall, pressed a hand to his forehead and willed his heart rate to go down.

CMO of a station fresh out of the academy. Impressive, and an easy way into an early grave- exactly what he'd wanted. But two years was a little fast.

He really needed that break away, didn't he?

#Fic: Bite the Hand that Starves You #Ds9 #Garashir #Ds9 fic #Star trek fic

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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year

Text

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 17 - While most of me is still intact

Masterlist; Chapter 16 Summary: The aftermath of the flood. Warnings: Swearing, canon-typical violence (only a mention), angst™️. Author's Notes: I am back 🙈 Still writing, still here, only it's slow and for that I'm sorry. If that's any consolation, this chapter is long. 8k long. It's fluffy too, because it seems my idiots needed some respite before the ultimate conclusion... I'm still not sure how many more chapters till the end, since this one was supposed to be longer. But I'm definitely going to finish the series. Until then, thank you for sticking around and let me know what you think? 💕 Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

Once upon a time, an image had been planted in your mind, the biblical allegory for a hopeful intervention. The Red Sea parted precisely when safe passage was needed. Something you never once dreamt of seeing with your own cynical eyes. Until the election night in rainy Gotham. Until the metal railing was biting into your hand, the cold seeping into your bones. The fear was so familiar you could no longer tell it apart from anything else.

Until the dark and murky waters below had been lit with a single red flare, the unmistakable shadow of Vengeance wading through the sea toward the stage. He was alright. Your hand relaxed on the railing as a collective gasp rushed through your small party. Your gaze inadvertently found Selina, taking in the worry on her face, the palpable terror you could feel coursing through your veins, too. When she turned to look at you, you quickly dropped your eyes back onto the scene underneath.

Bruce made it to the stage and began extracting those trapped underneath from within the mess of steel and debris. In the background, you could hear Gordon calling in for backup and choppers, and medical staff for the wounded. The bustle of the police forces intensified, and you knew it was just a matter of seconds till you would be addressed. Till the reality would have to catch up with what had unfolded.

It seemed like you were not the only one with the realization. A muffled shout behind made you turn to find the source, finding Gordon leaning over the railing on the other side of the bridge. You quickly crossed the space to join him, watching as Selina leapt down the ladders and constructions. Her body filled with feline grace you could barely fathom.

“You’re going to do that too?” the gruff voice cut through your consciousness, turning to see Gordon staring at you pointedly.

Despite the weariness and exhaustion, you could not help but crack a wry smile:

“Nah, I don’t fancy dying tonight,” and, then, just as an afterthought you could not hold back, you added, “I’m not that good,”

You really weren’t. It was nearly impossible to ignore the running thoughts, the questions piling in your head, begging to be answered. Like: what if you never showed up on the bridge? What if Bruce never saw you? And what did Selina have to do with all of it?

You did not dare hope it was the last you would ever hear or see of her. The universe was never quite that kind. Or generous.

“Well, I’m glad because I want to talk to you sometime. Once it all quietens a little,” not allowing your brain to go on a tangent, the cop’s conversational tone was once again the one to bring you back to the present.

“What like a witness statement?” you eyed him suspiciously, never the one to eagerly enter the police station and confess your thoughts at the white desk of shame.

But there was no cunning to be found in his face as Gordon nodded:

“You can call it that” as if reading your thoughts, he cracked a wry grin of his own “Don’t worry, you’re not a suspect,”

Perhaps Bruce was right, and he was one of the decent ones. A lone bastion of decency in the GCPD ranks, if you will.

“I should hope not,” you levelled him with one final hard look, hoping to show that you would not be easily intimidated, police forces or not.

One alliance, pulling you right into the centre of this mess was quite enough. And you could not even pretend you were willing to let go of Bruce. It simply was not happening.

Before you could contemplate the logistics of getting back home with the streets flooded, Gordon broke the silence again:

“For now, wait here. I’ll send someone with you to get your head checked out and to get you home safely” only once reminded of it, you felt the throbbing pain pulsing through your skull.

“Police escort, huh?” rolling your eyes, you allowed the uncertainty to speak, “Am I that important?”

The question was not aimed at Gordon. But he was there, and the only person you wanted to ask was… unavailable.

Judging by the expression on his face, you were very transparent on the matter. James threw one look at the stage below and turned away with a simple statement:

“It seems like to him, you are,”

He left you with the words resonating in your head, unaware of the consequences. Unaware of the fact that the statement would haunt you for hours to come. Until you could look into Bruce’s eyes and ask him too.

***

Hours passed since leaving the Garden until you could finally step through the doors leading into the Wayne Tower. Sometime between the fifteen minutes spent at the back of an ambulance (no head trauma, sweetie, but take it slow for a couple of days) and the police car, you decided not to go home. Directing the cops to a random street near the tower, you lied through your teeth, pretending this was home and they could leave you alone. Luckily, they were eager to comply. The excuse you had prepared in the quiet of your mind was that you were safer there. And conveniently more likely to find Bruce once he made it back.

The list of things that needed attending was getting longer as you crept through the familiar foyer and into the creaking lift. You had to call the hospital and inquire after Alfred, the worry gnawing at your heart relentlessly. You were hoping you would stumble upon Dory, too, wanting to let her know Bruce was relatively unharmed. Some dry clothes would have been nice, as well.

Some of those prayers had been answered, for as soon as you stepped into the study, you noticed the warm lamp glow by the bookshelves. One of the armchairs was occupied. As you crept closer, you could easily discern Dory curled up in the chair, her head propped on the backrest, eyes closed. She was dozing. A soft smile spread over your face as you closed the distance and whispered:

“Hey, it’s me” even with all the softness you could procure, Dory sat up startled.

You watched as her wide gaze slowly gave way to recognition and relief. A tentative smile inched its way across your face as she stood up from the armchair and gathered you into a tight hug:

“I’m so happy to see you, darling. I wanted to call someone, but I didn’t have your number, and master Wayne wasn’t picking up. I was so worried” Dory’s voice was smothered by the embrace, yet you heard it well enough to feel the tears gather in your eyes.

Blinking them away, you gave the older woman a final squeeze and stepped back. It was nearly impossible to ignore the uptick of fondness and the part of your brain that already forgot what it was like to be cared for. What it felt like to be important to someone.

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long” swallowing down the emotions, you sank into the nearest armchair and allowed yourself to relax.

For the first time in hours. Only now, you could feel just how much everything hurt.

The subtle wince did not escape Dory’s worried eyes as she scanned you intently before settling on a question:

“Are you alright?” she added another as you opened your mouth to speak, “Were you there when…?”

She need not finish it.

“Yes, I had a front-row seat to the whole ordeal… I’m fine, though” shrugging halfheartedly, you chose to ignore the aching body and the tarnished confidence; instead, you aimed for another reassuring smile as you added, “Bruce is alright too, he um… helped people there. I’ll wait for him tonight” noticing the dark circles underneath her eyes, you made sure to soften your voice “You can get some rest; I’ve got it all covered,”

It took one long look between you for Dory to agree. She stood up slowly, gathering her bearings and casting one final glance around the space. And then back at you. Eyes filled with fondness you could barely process without bursting into tears.

“Thank you” as if pulled by an invisible string, you got up and allowed her to take your hand between her palms and squeeze it tightly, “He’s lucky to have you,” the sentiment was uttered with enough sincerity to make your heart ache.

A protest was ready to be launched, but you tried to push it down, unable to look away from Dory. From the look in her eyes begging you to accept it as a fact. You closed your eyes to gather your thoughts, knowing it was futile anyway.

“I’m not sure he agrees, but… I’ve always been hard to get rid of” shrugging helplessly, you opened them again only to turn away with a wry smile.

You could not stand it anymore. The housekeeper must have taken the hint, for she gathered the rest of her things and left the room without another word. For once, the loneliness did not hurt too bad.

***

After that, you moved like a ghost through the tower. Careful not to dwell on your actions, you slipped into Bruce’s bedroom to find spare, dry clothes. The set he gave you days before was still there, carefully laid on the chair as if he did not want to put it in the washing yet. That, too, was a thought best left in the dark. Hoping he would not mind, you put them on and dared yourself not to linger as everything there reminded you of his presence and of the safety you were not sure you deserved in the slightest. But it did not matter. You promised Dory to wait upon him, and so were going to do just that.

Calling the hospital was a much easier feat to achieve. It did help to discover that the last time Bruce was visiting Alfred, he had put down your name as someone trusted, and hence it took no effort on your side to get information. What mattered was that he was safe. It took the invisible weight off your chest as you collapsed into a chair in the kitchen and rested your forehead on the cold marble.

It took a great deal of self-persuasion to make a sandwich your stomach badly needed and to convince yourself you should wait downstairs in Bruce’s underground station. That way, you would know exactly when he arrived and could see him right away. And there was no telling when that would happen. Eschewing the importance of clocks and watches, you took a blanket from the sofa in the study and got in the lift to take you down.

The shiver shook your body as the chill of the underground station hit you in the face. Careful not to pay much attention to the late hour or the temptation of everything scattered around the place, you curled up in one of the chairs and burrowed in the blanket. Before long, you were sound asleep.

Waking up was no less jarring. One moment, you were dead to the world, lost in the nonsensical dreams that offered no comfort, and the next, an engine roar made you jerk awake with a start. When your senses adjusted to reality, Bruce was in front of you, the vehicle door closing behind him. He was still wearing full armour, standing motionless as if arrested by your gaze. Just as you were rendered frozen by his.

He was the first to make a move, raising his arms with a quiet groan to take off the cowl. The motion mussed his dark hair, making it fall in disarray over his forehead. Over the attentive eyes, now encircled with smudged black eyeshadow. Your heart stuttered in your chest. A traitorous blush spread over your cheeks as you fought to keep looking him in the eyes, hoping Bruce would not notice the internal crisis.

A flash of surprise followed by recognition and a faint smirk twisting his lips blew those hopes with the wind of your embarrassment. But you did not have enough time to dwell on it. Your legs finally became unstuck as you started closing the gap, exactly when Bruce came to the same conclusion. You met in the middle, bodies colliding almost chaotically, except for the needs controlling every movement. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands came to rest on his shoulders. Eyes met for a split second to fulfil the soul’s desire before Bruce delved in for a kiss.

You gasped, pressing against him, instantly opening your mouth underneath his prodding tongue, giving in to the longing sizzling in your veins. It was easy to slide your tongue alongside his, to let your teeth nibble on his lower lip, revelling in the groan he let out. To press your hand to his cheek, pouring the feelings into the kiss, hoping the message would get through. That you missed him. That you loved him, against all hope and reason. That all you wanted was for this to last. Somehow.

Perhaps it did get through. Perhaps Bruce understood if the way he kept chasing after your lips was anything to go by. Kissing you with all his might, devouring your mouth like a dying man. Like there was no hope left. Nothing but this. But you.

You only broke the kiss when you could hardly breathe, taking half a step back but keeping your hand caressing his cheek lightly. Bruce whined quietly, his hold reluctantly easing to let you go. When your eyes met again, it was impossible not to exhale sharply, shocked to the core by the depth of yearning in his gaze. Mirroring your move, Bruce cupped your face with careful fingers, wincing as soon as he felt the cold skin:

“God, you’re freezing” the slight rasp in his voice was another reason for the stumble in your heartbeat.

Leaning into his palm, you cracked a wry smile and shrugged:

“Yeah, well… You forgot to turn the heating on” your grin widened upon seeing Bruce's faint smile, yet you chose not to dwell on it, “Sorry, I fell asleep” feeling the awkwardness slipping in, you took another half-a step back.

But Bruce did not let you. The arm he kept around your waist stayed right where it was, making it impossible to move further away. You could only stare back as his eyes worriedly scanned your face, looking for any signs of pain. When he found nothing apparent, Bruce gently cupped the back of your head and asked:

“Are you alright? Is-” you could barely tolerate the concern you saw in his eyes, so you stopped him before another word could get out.

Before you got used to being treated like you mattered to someone.

“I’m fine. Got checked up, no head trauma, so as good as it gets” another shrug, taking over the inability to deal with everything you were feeling; you scanned his face with a scrutinous glare before settling on a simple statement, “You, on the other hand, look terrible” proving the point, you dragged your hand through his knotted hair, unable to fight off the fond smile.

The offence you had been awaiting never came. Instead, Bruce mirrored your uncertain smile and sighed, evidently letting go of the invisible weight perched upon his shoulders. His body sagged just a fraction as he finally let go of you and replied:

“I feel like it too” as if not knowing what to do with himself, his gaze ventured over the equipment in the station with palpable restless energy, “I wanted to check up on Alfred, but-”

It felt good to be able to offer him some solutions. You cut right into his sentence, briefly summarizing the discoveries:

“No need, I already called them. He’s safe. Their ICU is on higher floors, so they managed to keep the water under control. They’ll let us know when it’s alright to visit him” running out of steam, you remembered one last crucial bit of information; all the while ignoring how it felt to have Bruce’s eyes fixed on your face with intent, “Caught up with Dory, too, and told her to go to bed,”

You could never have foreseen the reaction to your recap. Before you could do as much as blink and find a new way of filling the silence, a blanket was draped over your shoulders. You whirled around with a gasp, meeting Bruce’s soft stare with wide eyes of your own. He only nodded, answering your unasked question.

“Thank you. I really mean it” seeing the gratitude in his eyes, you could only offer him another tight-lipped smile before turning away to conceal the blush spreading over your cheeks.

You wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket and shot back the remaining two revelations you felt Bruce should know. Those were harder to say out loud without hesitation.

“Um… Gordon wants me to visit him in a few days, so… yeah,” taking his silence as all the encouragement you would get, you added; voice wavering pathetically, “And Selina got away, unfortunately… Sorry about that”

Any idiot would have been able to detect the glaring lack of compassion in the sentence. Not for her, anyway. And Bruce Wayne was many things, but definitely not an idiot.

As if seeing right through the bullshit in your head, he laid a careful hand on your shoulder and forced you to face him. The haunting blue eyes stared into the depths of your soul as his fingers inched higher, caressing your neck in tentative strokes. Unable to maintain eye contact, you squeezed your eyes shut just in time to hear the murmur:

“I don’t care” the sheer conviction in his voice was almost enough to make you believe him.

Almost. Gathering the remains of courage, you chose to face Bruce again:

“She saved your ass up there. You don’t have to pretend it’s nothing” you could tell that bitterness was seeping through each word, the resignation forcing you to stop the rouse, even if just for the moment, “Not for my sake, anyway,”

The flash of annoyance in Bruce’s eyes was almost enough to keep you there. He sighed with frustration before surprising you for the umpteenth time within the past quarter of an hour. Tipping your chin so you could not escape his gaze, Bruce closed the gap to lay a gentle kiss on your parted lips. He leaned back before you could think of chasing after him. The steel-like resolve is still there, written in his blue eyes and the clench of his sharp jaw. As if he was done with your nonsense and yet unwilling to let you go. It was another thing to get you hooked on, so you could never dream of getting over him. As if.

“I’m not pretending. The only person I wanted to see after it all was you” the sincere statement is the one to cut through your internal monologues.

The force of it was enough to rejuvenate the blush on your face and to bring back the stutter in your voice. You stepped back out of his grasp and dropped your gaze to the floor. How did he dare?

“… okay, I… We should go to sleep I think” how eloquent, goddamn it, “You must be exhausted,” it was as good an excuse as you could ever find.

You knew Bruce saw right through it. His eyes flickered over your face with something unidentifiable, but it was clear he had given up. Instead, he found something else to fret over. It became apparent the moment he looked at you helplessly, hands gesturing at the armour with something close to shyness:

“Could you… could you help me get out of this?” his blush had synced up with yours.

One glance at all the different straps and fastenings holding together the upper part of his suit was enough to make you understand. You only nodded, already dropping the blanket on the chair and approaching him with a blank expression. Wordlessly asking for pointers.

The next fifteen minutes had been spent on the painstakingly slow process of disassembling the armour. Quiet was only disrupted by Bruce’s directions, patiently narrating the process so that you knew what you were doing. It was almost pleasant to be this close to him without any pressure of time or case needed solving. Feeling the trust and knowing that this experience was not one many have lived. Perhaps only Alfred had done it before for him. Albeit selfish, the thought gave you comfort. And the courage to think about what came after. About what you wanted (and needed) to offer.

Placing the breast plating on the rack Bruce showed you, you hesitated, eyes slipping over his torso, still hidden by a black shirt. You knew you had been caught once you noticed him stare at you back, head cocked to the side in silent question. There was no point stalling anymore.

“I can stay with you… in your room, if you’d like that” as soon as the words left your mouth, you winced, internally berating yourself for every one of them, “Just to sleep, of course. I don’t… I know you wouldn’t-” the ramblings were cut off with a simple whisper carrying your name.

Making you glance back up at Bruce, at his smile and kind eyes that showed no malice. None of the feared sneer either.

“I’d like it very much” a relieved sigh was inescapable.

As was the flustered smile and maddeningly fast pulse pounding in your ears. It was part of the deal, unfortunately.

You were the first one to break the sickly-sweet exchange of giddy smiles. For the first time in a while, that hopeful spark in your chest was not unwelcome. You allowed yourself to feel it burn as you grinned at Bruce:

“Good. Me too” your lips twisted into a smirk, one Bruce was so familiar with, as you dropped your voice to a faux seductive timbre, “As far as I recall, you’re quite a comfy pillow, hun,”

The delighted laughter you got in return for the nickname was worth the faint headache. And the battered heart.

***

The awkwardness crept back in before you could get in bed and get lost in the dream world. Sometime between getting into Bruce’s bedroom, closing the door, and settling in for the night, everything became harder to ignore. Like the extent of the bruises underneath his shirt, the sheer uncertainty that lays after the flood and the closeness between you that was still terrifying. Having convinced Bruce to let you rub the ointments into the worst of bruising, you settled in between the pillows while he disappeared into the bathroom to get changed. It gave you time to manage the inexplicable spike of anxiety that began to get out of control. Because it was the first time you were going to sleep next to Bruce without any other reason. Because you both wanted to be close to each other. And it was utterly frightening.

The crisis hardly got smothered when Bruce emerged from the ensuite and joined you under the covers. The familiar shy smile graced his features, making it so easy to mirror his position and turn onto your side to face him. You did not have to look for words to fill in the silence:

“Come closer” Bruce extended a hand toward you, fingers trailing over the length of your forearm.

What had been a respectable space between you suddenly felt like nothing. And Bruce wanted you closer than that. Cursing quietly, you levelled him with as a serious look as you could manage, all things considered:

“You sure?” the act was easy to see through.

You wanted to close that gap, perhaps more than anything. But Bruce’s bravery was still something new, something you were not used to. It was best to check lest you could fuck it all up somehow.

“Very, very sure” as if reading your mind, Bruce gave you a reassuring smile, his arm winding around your waist as you gave in to the pull and closed the distance.

Without a word, you laid your head on his pillow and pressed the length of your legs against his. Placing your arm around his middle, you felt instantly enveloped in an embrace that would keep you safe. As did the look in his eyes, trusting and open. The chatter of your thoughts at once grew quiet.

“You know, for a minute there, I was scared I’d never be able to do this again… It was terrifying” laying this close to each other, you could feel each word Bruce spoke with a warm rush of air over your mouth.

Nearly distracting you from the meaning of his words. And what they revealed. Once it sunk in, you closed your eyes and allowed the honesty to speak.

“Will you tell me what… what happened there?” hoping the inflexion would do the work without you having to put it into words, the anxiety raging in your brain made you add, “You don’t have to, is just that… I’d love to get that gap filled in with something other than assumptions” Bruce squeezed your arm in reassurance, confirming he understood.

That he was willing to elaborate on what was, without a doubt, a vulnerable moment. You still were not ready to open your eyes.

“I saw one of them take you out with a blow to the head, and I… Guess I just fucking lost it” the bitter tone with which he threw out the curse felt like a punch to the gut.

It was why your eyes flew open, and the words rushed out.

“But you could barely move, I-” Bruce never let you finish.

“I used an adrenaline shot. Always got a couple in the utility belt” although his voice was rid of emotions, you could see the urgency in his eyes.

As if Bruce was begging you to understand what he meant by it all. You understood enough. Even if you could not bear to think about it without risking your sanity.

“I never heard you swear before” it was why you chose to deflect, holding onto the least important of facts.

Bruce’s eyes widened at the question, and his mouth fell agape in what would be a comical expression if the circumstances were any different.

“Really? Is that the takeaway?” there was a flash of that previous annoyance in his eyes.

Yet still, Bruce tightened the hold over your body, pulling you a fraction closer to the heat of his frame. Close enough that you could melt into him, admitting to the reasons for your foolishness. The why of all the omissions:

“Yeah, because I don’t want to deal with the rest of what you told me” you met his searching gaze, hoping your eyes could show the words that got stuck in your throat.

You pressed your palm to his shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his skin through the shirt fabric. After a beat, Bruce mirrored the gesture, his soft hum getting lost in the space between you. The silence stretched for a short while, enough so you could feel your heartbeat settle, falling for the chance of peace. Yet it did not surprise you when Bruce spoke:

“I’d do it again if I had to” his voice was still soft, treading that familiar territory between a sleepy confession and a nonchalant observation.

You knew it was not really the second one. Tightening the hold over his body, you moved a fraction closer to brush your nose against his and whispered the reply:

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to” there was nothing else to add.

Nothing else you could say without showing how much his admission meant. It was almost incomprehensible to think someone could willingly risk it all for your sake. Without reason or obligation. It made it dangerously easy to believe you were worth something.

For a while, neither of you spoke, seemingly content to drift off to sleep entangled like that. Although his eyes were half-closed, you could see Bruce glance at you every few minutes. It was impossible to say what he was thinking. Once you could feel the sleep pulling you under, you risked asking what was on your mind:

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” even to your ears, your voice sounded embarrassingly insecure.

There was no guarantee he would be there. No certainty that whatever had happened over the night would prevail the next day. You were not sure you could cope with it if the morning changed how things were. It was doubtful.

From the briefest of winces passing through Bruce’s face, you knew you had hit the jackpot. Your hand trailed down his arm to thread your fingers together. Waiting to be disappointed.

“I don’t know. The city needs me, now more than ever” the excuse was weak, and Bruce knew it.

As if trying to recompensate, he squeezed your hand but averted the furrowed look you immediately sent his way. You did not feel like giving in to what was utter bullshit.

“Yeah, but you need to rest” when Bruce still did not meet your gaze, you added, tone firmer this time, “Gotham is still going to be there tomorrow. And I hope you know you can’t help everybody. You can’t save them all” it must have struck the chord for he raised his head, the boundless blue of his eyes troubled “Some are beyond helping” it was hard to say what made you finish the speech on a vulnerable admission “Like me,”

One that made Bruce’s face twist into a look of pure dread. He disentangled his hand from yours to cup your cheek, the tenderness tearing your heart apart as you stared back.

“You’re not-” deciding you did not want to hear it, you used an empty hand to shut him up.

Your fingers traced the outline of his mouth once he fell quiet. His lips were an easier point of focus than the eyes seeing into the depths of your soul.

“Bruce, please. Not tonight,” the whisper filled the silence, pleading without saying so.

He understood. Nudging your chin upwards so that you were both forced to look at one another, Bruce searched your eyes. That same emotion settled for good in his gaze. The one you could never identify. Though you could sometimes guess…

“Okay… Can I kiss you?” the simple question acted like an instant brain freeze.

You did not have to think hard about the answer.

“Yeah… but only if you’ll stay with me” for once, it did not hurt to be exposed.

For once, it was okay to know he saw you. All the faults and weaknesses. All that you would rather reject than embrace.

“I’ll stay” Bruce sealed the promise with a kiss.

Fragile and gentle, the pressure of his lips was almost tender. It was still easy to sigh into his mouth and lose yourself in the hope that flickered in your heart. The hope that maybe it meant enough to last. This time, you made no moves to devour him, no intent to make a mark. For this one was only a vow. And when it was over, and you could press a final peck to the tip of Bruce’s nose, it was so much easier to lay your head over his chest and close your eyes.

***

It was almost surreal to wake up enveloped in an embrace you had no desire to escape. Slowly opening your eyes, you allowed them to adjust to the morning light peeking through the curtains. The rain was pattering against the window; the sound was acting like a mellow soundtrack. Realising you had moved through the night, you found your back pressed against Bruce’s chest. It felt like being spooned by a heater. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. That much was certain.

For a beat, you were content to simply lay there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the muffled snores escaping his throat. It was impossible not to grin, tightening the hold over Bruce’s hand around your waist. The throbbing headache at the back of your skull was almost worth it. Because although it was still terrifying, you could not deny yourself the bliss felt at that moment. Everything else be damned.

Only once you felt him stir you began to move, turning as gently as possible to face Bruce. The sight alone was breathtaking. His dark hair was tousled beyond saving, several strands falling over his eyes. His forehead was clear from the frown lines; the long eyelashes fluttered over the sculpted cheeks. Although his eyes were still closed, you could tell he was not sleeping anymore. Ignoring the warnings alarms in your head, you shifted, so you could see him better and kissed the edge of his jaw. Then laid another peck on his chin, smiling involuntarily upon hearing Bruce gasp shallowly. His arms tightened over your frame as he slightly lowered his head to catch your lips in a chaste kiss. You were more than happy to give it to him.

Only then did Bruce open his eyes, the blue irises catching the light and immediately focusing on you. His lips twisted into a small smile as you noticed:

“I think you needed that sleep” on its own accord, your hand rose to let the fingers trail over his features.

Bruce’s smile widened into a bashful grin. You could feel his hand caress your side, slowly inching closer to the shirt’s hem. You were happy to let him do that too.

“Probably,” acquiescing, Bruce was interrupted by a wide yawn.

Giggling into the pillow, you briefly contemplated what it would take to convince him to stay in bed with you forever. Or at least for the whole day. But then, the reality crashed. Even without being able to see the city outside, the memories came rushing in like the sea water breaking through the walls last night. It was the darkness at the edge of the peaceful morning that made you ask:

“What do you think will happen now?” as soon as the words were out, you could see the frown return to Bruce’s face.

Damn it. The apology was already on your tongue when he replied.

“No clue. But it’s going to be tough. People like the Penguin are going to try to use this mess to their advantage” a tired sigh acted as an interval while Bruce seemed to collect his thoughts; his eyes were trained on the world outside the window, “I should probably do patrols every night, aside from keeping in touch with Gordon” the reluctance in his voice felt like a stab in the fabric of your soul.

With a start, you realised that you would probably do anything to make it go away. To stop whatever was making him hurt. But there was nothing you could do.

“Work is cancelled with everyone urged to stay inside, so if you’ll have anything to work on, count me in” feigning nonchalance and failing miserably, you waited with bated breath for Bruce to look at you again.

To say anything to the thinly veiled plea to let you work with him again. The answer was more important than life itself. Slowly, Bruce turned his head to rest his heavy gaze on you. His mouth stretched into a smile:

“No please?” he grinned, taking the weight off your shoulders and making you giggle breathlessly.

“Nah, you didn’t earn it” an attempt at schooling your features into a mock seriousness went horribly, yet Bruce still seemed pleased with the quip.

His hand, which was still tracing patterns on your side, slipped underneath the shirt. Now the warmth of his careful touch was acting like an anchor, making it much easier to stay present. When his eyes met yours, it still felt like a jolt to the system.

“I will” Bruce’s voice dropped into a lower timbre, dragging a shiver through your body.

If he noticed, he did not let on. Ignoring the response of your betraying body, you raised an eyebrow, fixating on the conversation you were having. Or on one that lay beneath the words that filled the silence.

“Earn it?” as if following the invisible pull, you allowed your hand to reach out; your palm pressed itself to his chest over the heart.

To feel its rhythmic beat, wanting to memorise it for the future where you never got to touch Bruce like that.

“That too” as though he was reading your mind, Bruce pulled you closer, his words a murmur you wanted to trust.

You wanted to believe whatever changed last night was an indication of how things were now. And how they were going to be. But trusting was not in your blood. You buried your face in the crook of his neck to breathe in the calming scent. Only after a few minutes have passed in the near-blissful quiet, you could begin to seek the courage to voice one last desire. You could only say it when there was no chance of Bruce’s eyes finding yours. So, you took one final deep breath and tried to shoot the shot:

“Will you have some breakfast with me? Before you leave to do whatever?” with every word, you were wincing harder, trying to focus on the movement of his chest underneath your palm.

All because of how much rejection would hurt. Sure, you had already gotten so much more than you ever bargained for. But the longing never ceased anymore, growing more insistent by the hour.

“That’s a question or a request?” Bruce’s question had a cheeky edge, easily throwing you out of your head.

He had no mercy for your desire to hide. Leaning back to catch your chin in his hand, Bruce met your blushed cheeks and half-closed eyes with a confident smirk. An expression you were slowly getting used to, to your surprise. It forced a shy smile to appear, despite your wishes.

“Depends on what’s more likely to work on you” your tongue darted out to wet the suddenly dry lips.

Immediately, you noticed Bruce’s eyes trace the movement, keeping the eyes fixed on your mouth. Way too long for it to be accidental. You knew it wasn’t.

Bruce groaned as if in response to the dance between you and pressed his forehead to yours with a fake pained expression. In response, you could only raise an eyebrow and catch the bottom lip between your teeth. The giddiness in your chest began to spark to life.

“You’re just so…” it only grew brighter when you heard the yearning in his voice.

Bruce seemed speechless; his eyes were fixed on your face with something akin to devotion. As if he had so many words to describe you but none that would fit the bill. None that would express what he wanted to say. You decided to help:

“Annoying?” Bruce shook his head in silent exasperation, so you decided to use it, “Yeah, I know. So?”

His smile was the answer you had been waiting for. Soon, your face was bound to hurt from smiling so much.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded, making your grin shine even brighter.

Caught up in the feelings evoked by this moment, you never saw when he leaned in to catch your lips but felt it when Bruce kissed you. Slowly and thoroughly, responding to the playful back and forth you had been indulging in. You deepened the contact when you felt his tongue swipe over your lips, gasping when Bruce licked into your mouth. The taste of him was already familiar, and the more you had of it, the more you craved it. Following the pull of your heart, you pulled up on your forearm to lean over Bruce, feeling his hand slip to the small of your back. He caressed your skin while his mouth devoured yours, and all you could think of was how much you were willing to sacrifice to never let him go. Somewhere in between another swipe of your tongue curling around his and the playful bite as your teeth sunk into his bottom lip, you had to swallow the three words. The ones that would destroy everything. The ones that kept appearing on the tip of your tongue, following the letters of his name. The ones you traced onto the material of his shirt. I love you.

Not that long later, when you had climbed from the bed, and locked the bathroom door, you whispered them against the wooden frame, choking on the weight of the feelings you should never have had in the first place:

“I love you…”

***

The crisis had passed by the time you sat at the kitchen island and sipped on the coffee while gossiping with Dory. She had hugged you tightly when you entered the room, relieved to find you still in the building. In return, you filled her in on Bruce’s whereabouts and asked for help in preparing the breakfast spread. Once it was ready and you had convinced the older woman to join you for the meal, you settled by the countertop, waiting for Bruce to join you. Somehow, you knew he would. Breaking promises did not seem to be in his nature. At least, you had hoped so.

He proved you right ten minutes later, walking into the kitchen just as you were telling Dory about the police escort from the night before. Your story was interrupted when she laid her eyes on Bruce, let out a surprised noise and instantly dropped the milk carton to gather him into an embrace. A smile planted itself on your face upon the sight, observing with the familiar happiness as Bruce returned the hug and squeezed the housekeeper with fondness permeating every cell of his body. After a moment, you turned away to give them privacy for the hushed conversation and tried to occupy yourself with the toasts, which had just popped from the toaster. The only reprieve from the task came when you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder and turned your head to find Bruce standing right next to you. He smiled and wordlessly asked for the plate, forcing you to marvel at the domesticity of the situation. So different to the other breakfast at the Wayne Tower, only days before. Once you were all seated and picking at the spread, it was that memory which made you ask:

“So… are you going to eat, or do I have to force you again?” you levelled Bruce with a pretended serious look and sneaked a glance towards Dory.

As expected, she was unsuccessfully hiding the laugh behind the coffee mug in her hand. Turning back to Bruce, you found him matching the faux glare with one of his own. His mouth was curled into a smile as he picked up the buttered bread and used it as an accessory to accentuate the response:

“I will. I will. No need to force-feed me the toast” Bruce took a demonstrative bite with no heat in the pointed look in his eyes.

A spark in his gaze told you he remembered well the moment you alluded to.

“Good” signing off the comment with a wink, you reached for the mug again.

You did not get to swallow the sip of the warm beverage.

“Though, admittedly, I did enjoy the last time” Bruce’s response was the sole reason for you choking on the coffee and the coughing fit which followed.

He must have felt responsible, for within seconds, his hand was between your shoulder blades, firmly hitting the space to ease the coughing. The concerned frown on his face was almost enough to help you take a breath again and find the courage to place your hand on his knee underneath the kitchen island. You squeezed it once and measured him with a steady look:

“I see” the company in the room did not matter anymore as you met the blue of his eyes and remarked, “You’re a strange creature, Mr Wayne” the way Bruce reacted to the name never got old, and you could not help but smirk with satisfaction at the pink tint appearing on his cheeks.

He caught his bottom lip between his teeth as if to hold in something he did not want to say out loud. Composed himself and took a toast bite to find a breather. You could only watch him, feeling Dory’s observational gaze rest on both of you with quiet contemplation. Whatever she saw between you surely was not that far off anyway.

At last, Bruce must have found his footing again, for he returned your taxing gaze and muttered a reply:

“Yet you’re still… around” the inflexion on the last word suggested he was surprised by it.

That he never really expected you to stay around for so long. You did wonder whether telling him that it was a surprise to you, too, was a reasonable move. You ignored it, softening the smile on your face and fully aware that the look in your eyes was nothing short of affectionate.

“I never said I don’t like strange creatures” finishing the sentence, you moved your hand up from his knee to the lower thigh, hoping to convey everything your heart felt.

You signed off the sentiment with a cheeky wink, feeling your cheeks burn under Dory’s scrutiny from the other side of the worktop. At that moment, you quickly decided to discard this line of the conversation and include the older woman in your discussion. It was what you did then, sharing with her your recounting of the night before, happy to have Bruce join the story. Afterwards, you both promised her to keep in touch to avoid anxiety-filled nights and confusion.

Still, it was not a surprise that as soon as Dory finished her breakfast, she excused herself from the kitchen, wishing you both a good day. A blush on your face was a permanent fixture by now. For a beat, you and Bruce stayed quiet, sipping the remains of the coffee in companionable silence. Until he cleared his throat and placed the mug on the worktop with a hollow sound. Your eyes darted to Bruce anticipating the unknown. Although there were no reasons to suspect anything bad, you still felt anxious as you watched him intently.

“I’ve been thinking and… I think it would be best if you stayed here for now. Until it all settles a little in the city” Bruce rushed the words out almost breathlessly, staring at the marble surface as he added, “Of course, you can say no, but… I wanted to put it out there, I guess” with each word the conviction in his voice grew weaker until it disappeared completely.

The proposition surprised you, making it difficult to find an answer before Bruce managed to talk himself out of it. You could see him battle himself, so you blurted out the only question that made sense:

“Why?” it was the magical word that made Bruce look up at last.

He met your searching gaze with a simple shrug, the look in his eyes helpless but not in denial anymore. This time he had the answer ready.

“Because I’d feel better knowing you’re somewhere safe,” his voice grew softer as he silently begged you to understand and agree.

The statement broke through the reluctance in your heart and melted the hard shell, as it always did. It was tempting and oh so easy. Another excuse to stay by his side and feed your needs as long as he would allow it.

“And here I was hoping you’ll say you want me in your bed again” you dropped the tone to a private timbre, eager to make Bruce blush again.

It did the job. As soon as he registered your words, his cheeks turned a vivid shade of pink, lips falling agape to sputter words of denial that never came. You were right. Kinda. A triumphant grin planted itself on your face upon the sight, acting as a driving force behind the decision to stand up and drape your arms over Bruce’s body from behind. Your chin came to rest on his shoulder as his hands came to cover yours over his torso. Before he could begin to question himself again, you whispered an agreement into his ear and leaned back an inch to leave a playful bite on his earlobe. It was enough to make Bruce gasp sharply. And to widen your smile, silencing the voice in your head that always reminded you it would not last. For now – it would. And that was enough.

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excessive-vampires · 2 months

Text

Alphabet Thralls, S's Conditioning and Aftermath

Masterlist with content warnings

Taglist: @d-cs @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @softvampirewhump

S was led to a comfortable chair, their wrists strapped down. Then they were left alone. Now that there was no choice left, no option to fight, their anguish and shame over their compliance lessened. They looked around, it was a small room, the walls painted a calming blue like deep water. In front of them was a desk with another chair on the other side. No sooner had they taken in their surroundings than a woman walked in. She was of average build, a little short, and had blonde hair that fell in short loose waves around her head. She wore a simple black sundress with a sunflower design and a lavender cardigan over it. She carried a file containing all the notes on S and set it down on the desk.

“Are you comfortable?” The woman asked.

S didn’t want to talk, didn’t know what attitude was expected of them, what would be right. So they just nodded.

“Is there anything you need? We are going to be here for five hours, and we won’t be able to take a break without having to start over.”

“I’m fine.” The words slipped out of their mouth easily. It was their most practiced lie, but they didn’t think it sounded very convincing right now.

“They told me you didn’t finish your meal earlier.”

S looked down and wished they could disappear. They looked up when they felt the woman undoing the restraint on one of their wrists. She then pressed a candy bar into their hand. They tried to decide whether or not to ask if this was a test.

“Eat,” the woman commanded gently, but still firmly enough that S felt safe listening. They brought the candy bar to their mouth and tore the wrapper open. They glanced up at the woman as they took a bite of the sweet candy. She nodded and smiled. “My name is Mary.”

“Mary,” S repeated quietly after they swallowed their bite of chocolate.

“Do you have any questions, S-23?” Mary asked.

S shook their head as they took another bite of the candy bar.

“Are you sure? It’s okay to ask anything you want, I won’t get mad.”

“I’m fine,” they whispered, knowing they needed to say something but not being able to force anything more specific from their throat. They almost wished that Mary would just get on with the brainwashing instead of putting them through more of this confusing conversation. Then they felt disgusted at themself for thinking that.

Mary leaned forward across the desk. “You’re too scared to ask your questions, aren’t you?” Her tone was kind, caring. S wished that she would at least cut the bullshit. They weren’t resisting, why was Mary bothering trying to manipulate them? S was so tired of trying to figure out what everyone wanted from them. They had thought it would be more simple just following orders and not making anything more difficult for themself or anyone else, but they had messed up somewhere, and they didn’t know how. Tears welled up in their eyes as they nodded.

“You didn’t seem very scared before, were you just pretending to be brave?”

“No,” they muttered miserably.

“Then what’s changed?”

“I’m fine.”

��No, you’re not. And that’s okay. Just tell me why you’re scared.” Mary gently took the empty candy bar wrapper from S’s hand and put it next to the folder. She didn’t let go of their hand afterwards.

“You’re punishing me. This is an appropriate reaction. It should be what you want.” The last sentence was a soft mumble, but still intelligible.

Mary started gently running her thumb across the skin of S’s wrist. “What makes you think this is a punishment, darling?”

A flare of anger broke through S’s mind. “Don’t lie to me!”

Oh god.

They had yelled.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t–” S felt like their throat was closing with fear and regret.

“Look at me,” Mary commanded in that same gentle, insisting tone.

They looked up and blinked tears away so they could see clearly.

“I’m not angry with you. I’m not lying. I’m not going to do anything bad to you.”

“I don’t…” S whispered. “I don’t want to forget…”

“We can’t get rid of your memories of the past, dear. Not without leaving you absolutely useless. If we could, it would make this whole process a lot easier.”

“No, that’s not–” S stopped and took a shuddering breath. “Never mind.”

“Tell me.”

S loved that voice, it told them exactly what to do with no room for doubt, but without being angry. That was probably how it started, the mind control. But they still wished everyone talked like this when they gave orders. “People always make me feel so bad whenever I make a mistake, and for so long I thought I was just bad. And I still feel bad whenever anyone gets upset with me but… I realized a while ago that I don’t deserve to feel like that. That’s what I don’t want to forget… But that probably wouldn’t be very good for a thrall to know.”

Mary looked genuinely sad. “I’m going to tell you why we needed to schedule you for the longest cognitive conditioning session we could, okay?”

S nodded.

“It’s because you’ve already been conditioned, sweetheart. By humans. In the only crude, cruel way they can. With violence and fear. We need to get all of that out of your head before we can put our conditioning in.”

S shuddered at the thought of going through a lifetime of abuse for a second time, condensed into five hours.

“You don’t need to worry,” Marry said with a smile. “We are so much more powerful than humans, and most importantly we know that fear as a motivator is inconsistent at best and just plain ineffective at worst. You won’t follow our orders because you’re afraid of what happens if you don’t. You are going to follow our orders because you want to. Because being good is going to make you feel good.”

S froze like a deer in headlights. Their heart was beating wildly, their eyes were as wide as possible, they had no idea if they were supposed to respond but either way they didn’t feel capable of it. They were feeling such a tumultuous mix of emotions that they couldn’t identify a single individual one.

“I have no reason to lie.” The claim made sense, but more than that, the meaning seeped down into S’s brain like sweet syrup until they could think of nothing else. They believed it entirely. “You can believe that this is going to be good for you. You should trust the hope you’re feeling. That hope is going to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good, right?”

Some of the tension left S’s shoulders. “Yes,” they said simply. They didn’t doubt, they didn’t fear. They barely suppressed a relieved laugh. They deserved to feel good. If this was what the mind control was like then maybe it was a good thing they were going to be here for so long.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” Mary said conspiratorially. “Don’t be embarrassed, love, you’re doing very well. A lot of people fight against that feeling if it’s not subtle and disguised, but of course we don’t have to do that with you. You want this. You want to listen. You want to feel good.”

“Holy shit,” S breathed softly as once again Mary’s words drove everything else from their mind and all they felt was desire for more. “Yes, please.”

“Then relax and listen very closely to my instructions.”

S nodded quickly, they sank back into the chair and closed their eyes.

“For this next part I’m going to have to go very deep into your mind and restructure the patterns your brain has learned over the years. Don’t fight me, don’t put up any walls, just let me do what I need to do and it will be very pleasant.”

Worry started to creep back into S’s mind. They didn’t trust easily and while the command to have hope had stuck, there was still the vague fear that something was going to hurt them in some way.

“I’m just going to take out the things that make you feel bad, and put in new things to make you feel good. Don’t you want that, honey?”

S took a deep breath. They had made what felt like a million mistakes in their life, if this was truly a bad idea, what difference would one last screw up make? “Yes.”

“Then you’re going to let go. Let go and you’ll feel good.”

This command felt different, it shot through their mind like a hot knife through butter and held on tight once it got to the center. And letting it in was so easy.

“Very good, sweetheart, you didn’t put up any resistance at all.”

Being praised felt like there was a star burning in S’s chest, filling every inch of them with warmth. They wanted to get lost in the feeling, but they needed to listen to Mary tell them what to do.

“The first thing I need you to let go of is your complex thoughts, dear. Until I tell you otherwise there is just my voice and what I tell you to do. There is no choice, no need to wonder why, no reason to hold onto anything for longer than it takes you to follow the order.”

In an instant S’s mind was blank and it felt so very good. They might as well have been weightless, floating in the empty void between stars, but it was so so warm and Mary’s grip on their hand was soft even as it lit up all their nerves.

“Next, I need you to let go of your emotional reactions, they’re just going to get in the way of you feeling good while I work.”

S was vaguely aware that Mary was taking every piece of their mind away one by one. It should have been terrifying, but it just felt so good. The only thing left in the universe was the wave of bliss they were riding.

“You’re doing very well, darling. You’re being so good and that makes you feel good. Now, I need you to answer my questions, and do so truthfully. There is no reason to feel anything about the answers or try to figure out what you should be saying. Just keep feeling good and give me the facts. What scares you the most?”

“When other people are angry.”

“Why?”

“They might hurt me. They might make me feel bad.”

“Just listen closely and you’ll never have to be scared about that again. From now on, whenever anyone is acting angry around you, your mind will just start to drift away to somewhere safe. Nothing they say will be able to reach you there, so you can just listen to their words without feeling anything about them, and they’ll only be worth thinking about at all if someone you’re supposed to obey is giving you an order or asking you a question.”

S did not wonder how they would know who to obey, they just accepted the truth in Mary’s words.

“Now, I know you don’t like answering questions, why is that?”

“I don’t want to get the answer wrong.”

“Well don’t worry, from now on you’ll always be certain that the right answer is the truth when talking to your superiors, unless they directly tell you otherwise. And even if you get confused and get the answer wrong, nothing bad is going to happen to you. We all know you’re trying your best. And even if someone gets angry with you, remember, it won’t hurt you and you can just ask what you need to do differently next time.”

Everything was so simple now. So easy. There was nothing stopping S from following orders, they finally knew exactly what people wanted from them.

S heard Mary pick up the candy bar wrapper and crinkle it between her fingers. “You lied to me before about not being hungry, why?”

“To stay safe.”

“How?”

“By not being an inconvenience so you wouldn’t have a reason to be upset.”

Mary put down the wrapper and brought her hand back to S’s. She lightly traced circles on their palm. It felt almost electric. “You don’t have to think like that anymore, love. Taking care of your needs is part of being good, if you’re suffering you won’t be able to follow orders as well, and you won’t feel as good. None of us want that. Whenever you need something, and it doesn’t contradict an order or directly hurt one of your superiors, you can just take care of it. Do whatever you need to keep yourself strong, healthy, and content. And if it ends up being a mistake then someone will tell you, and that won’t hurt you, and you’ll know not to do it again.”

S continued to drift as Mary asked more questions. They didn’t forget each command as she moved on to the next one but they didn’t keep thinking about them either. Everything Mary said simply became a known truth to S like it had always been a part of some inherent knowledge they had.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you again if you have any questions now that you won’t be afraid. You’re going to need to think critically for that, so I’m going to slowly bring back your thoughts. You still won’t feel any emotions about anything you or I say, you’re just going to let me know if there’s anything you want to know. Now just listen and let your mind wander away from that calm peaceful oblivion. You’re still going to feel the pleasure from obeying orders, but it’s not going to distract you from thinking. Imagine yourself waking up from a good night’s sleep. Your mind is soft and warm and your awareness of your surroundings and yourself is coming back to you piece by piece. Now, do you have any questions?”

S felt as though their brain had been rebooted like a troublesome computer. Things had been so very distressing before, but now all the energy and thought and willpower they had been expending on feeling bad for so many years was freed up to be used for better things, so it didn’t take them very long to figure out what questions they should ask. “Are you really vampires?”

“Yes.”

“Are you doing this so I’ll let a vampire drink my blood?”

“Yes, and so you will happily take care of anything they need done during the day.”

“Will the vampire kill me eventually?”

“Not purposefully. You’ll be fine as long as you’re physically sound but as you age and your health declines it will start to become dangerous for you to be bitten. In all likelihood your death will be the direct result of blood loss.”

“Will there be any long-term physical effects from being fed on by a vampire?”

“Slightly lower blood pressure. Nothing medically significant.”

“Any long-term psychological effects? Aside from what you’re doing now?”

“Nothing not covered by basic classical conditioning.”

“Are you going to use mind control to make it so being bitten isn’t painful?”

“I don’t think I need to,” Mary grabbed the packet of forms from the folder in front of her and flipped through pages until she found the response she had been looking for. “You said you have a slightly higher than average pain tolerance?”

“According to tattoo artists.”

“Yes. You have that cute little constellation inked into your chest, it won’t hurt any more than that.”

“I don’t have any more questions.”

Mary smiled. “If that’s the case, I’m going to need you to let go again so I can train your brain to react positively to good behavior. Can you do that for me?”

S knew that they should be resisting this, they were being asked to let their mind be taken away after all, who knew if any of their faculties would be returned after the handler was done with them. But did they really care? Either way things were going to be easy, either way they would feel good. Maybe that was the mind control talking, or maybe they had already been tired enough to actually want this. They nodded and let Mary’s voice ease their thoughts away.

……

When Mary had finally gotten everything to stick in the new patterns of S’s mind she slowly talked them back to their full mental capabilities. As S opened their eyes they felt like a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. It felt easy just to exist in a way S had never felt before. They thought this was probably peace.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” Mary asked, smiling.

S smiled back. “I feel very good, thank you.”

“That’s excellent, honey, now I’m going to take you back to the showers so you can get ready for the vampire you’ve been assigned to”

S was allowed to wash themself this time as long as they were very thorough. They were then given a pair of simple black clothes resembling what someone in a prison might be given. The studs for their lip piercings were also returned.

They were then led to a small waiting room. The vampire who had assigned the different conditioning sessions was there waiting. “How did it go?” he asked.

“Excellent!” Mary said as she placed a proud hand on S’s shoulder. “Even during their initial fear they were very docile and put up no resistance at all.”

The man smirked. “You must have quite the silver tongue, Mary. It’s so much more effective when we can manipulate rather than use brute force.”

“I didn’t even have to lie to them, really. Their will for freedom had been broken long ago and they were just happy to be in the hands of a kinder master, isn’t that right?”

“Oh yes,” S said eagerly. “I feel so much better now.”

Mary chuckled. “You should give the targeting team a raise for finding them.”

“Oh, they weren’t even the intended target. When the acquisitions team showed up they fought just long enough to let their brother get away then begged us to take them instead as soon as he was out of earshot.”

“How noble,” Mary sounded surprised. “I did sense a good strong protective instinct in their mind, I suppose. But it was deep down. Poor thing was just too tired to fight for anyone anymore. Even themself.”

“Well then,” the man turned to S and gestured towards the couch behind him. “Why don’t you get some rest until Hector arrives.” The two vampires walked out of the room as S settled onto the couch. They heard the lock click as the door closed. Usually they would relish being alone, since it meant not having to try to make everybody else in the room happy, but they now found themself eagerly anticipating meeting their vampiric owner. They couldn’t wait to see Hector and figure out who he was, what he wanted, and how to best please him. They absolutely craved the feeling of pleasure that would blossom in them as they behaved well for him. They imagined him praising them and practically shuddered at the idea of how good it would feel.

S didn’t have to wait long before a man with tan skin, wavy black hair, and the bright red eyes they had come to associate with authority walked into the room followed by the clipboard woman. S scrambled to their feet. They nodded their head deferentially and said, “Hello.”

Hector laughed. “Oh, so eager!”

S blushed, but it was less from embarrassment and more from the fact that that had been close enough to praise to make them feel warm inside.

Hector looked S over. “Do you have to give them all such boring haircuts?” He ran his hands through their hair, trying to at least leave it fashionably tousled.

“You can do what you want with their hair when you sign for them.”

Hector ignored this and ran his thumb over one of the studs below S’s mouth. “At least I can tell this one knew the value of a distinctive aesthetic.”

S wasn’t sure if they should speak up, that hadn’t really been directed at them, but they wanted to make Hector happy… “That’s right. I’ve always liked looking unique.”

Hector looked a little surprised. “And why is that?”

“I want seeing me to make people happy. Or at least make their day interesting.”

“Oh you’ll be perfect for dressing up and carrying my bag at parties, won’t you?” Hector said with a grin.

“Yes, I’d like that a lot,” S said with their own smile. “Um… how would you like me to refer to you?”

“Oh, just Hector is fine. Anything else draws too much attention in public.”

“Yes, Hector.”

Hector turned back to the woman. “You seem to have found me quite the fun thrall here. Completely obedient but without the usual pathetic spineless lack of any interesting trait you get from that level of programming.”

S felt like they’d won an award.

“S-23 responds very well to clear, detailed instructions. Praise and validation reinforces their cognitive training, and if it starts slipping you’ll notice them becoming unusually distressed by decisions and even small mistakes. They might even tell you they need a refresher session themself.”

“You are a rare catch, aren’t you, dear?” Hector said.

“Thank you.” S said with a beaming smile.

Hector turned to the clipboard woman. “You’ve done lovely work, just as I expected. Now I think I’d like to sample the merchandise.”

“Of course.” The woman left the room. Hector motioned for S to sit back down on the couch and they did. Hector sat beside them.

“Are you scared?” Hector asked as he leaned in close.

“No.” S answered truthfully.

“That’s good, you don’t need to be. I’m going to make this feel very nice for you.” Hector put a hand on the side of S’s face.

“Thank you,” S replied. Hector moved his hand away and S made an educated guess that he wanted them to continue to lean into it, exposing more of their neck. When they did so, Hector smiled wide.

He leaned in close to their ear and whispered. “Good thrall.”

S released a shuddering exhale as a feeling of rightness settled into their chest. They felt warm and weightless and content and completely convinced that this was what they were supposed to do.

“Stay very still now,” Hector ordered in that same firm but kind tone that Mary had used. S obeyed.

Hector pressed his fangs to S’s throat. There was a sharp stab of pain that made S take in a gasping breath, but within seconds it had faded into a dull ache. Then a feeling of soft, pleasant calm filled them up. Every one of their muscles relaxed except for the ones keeping them very still, and waves of pleasure washed over and through them. They had never felt so amazing and comfortable.

After a few minutes Hector licked the wound until it stopped bleeding then pulled back, whispering praises that made S feel like they were floating. “You can move now,” Hector said as he licked blood from his teeth. S fell back against the armrest of the couch with a joyful sigh and Hector chuckled. “What name would you like to be called, sweet one?”

It took a second for S to gather their thoughts enough to remember. “Val. If that’s okay.”

“A lovely name. I think, little valentine, you and I are going to be an excellent match. It will be so good to have your company on my travels.”

“You travel?”

“Oh yes. I simply cannot resist the urge for a good vacation now and then.”

“And I get to come with you?”

“Of course, I can’t enjoy myself if I’m starving. Plus, revelry and relaxation both keep the blood rich and sweet. Now, follow me so I can sign the paperwork and take you home. I can’t wait to show you off at Delilah’s party next week, I know just what to make you wear.”

They nodded eagerly and stood up from the couch, swaying on their feet for a moment before Hector put a steadying hand on their shoulder. Tears welled up behind their eyes. After so many years of pain, they were finally happy.

#Val #AT

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b-afterhours · 2 months

Text

Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avene of Sins

SUMMARY: ‘90s. It’s the aftermath. Jaded, Bill and Alma navigate their new lives as they try to drag themselves out of the dark debacherous trenches they had once ensnared themselves in. It’s easy to forget their evils when a silver lining introduces itself into their lives but can they create a less hedonistic life that would be just as satisfying?

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Fourteen

April 1993

It was lightly raining when Ulyssa arrived at her twin sister's house. She was dressed comfortably in a sweater set and a beanie as she carefully jogged up to the duplex. The plastic bags she was carrying had a smiley face printed on them, full of Chinese takeout.

Yolani was setting up her small dining table with plates while her sister took the food out of the bags as Echo watched on. She could smell the chicken fried rice and was eager to eat just as they were. Lately, Echo has been stuck on eating rice, cooked any which way. She still loved her mashed potatoes too, of course.

“I met Echo’s dad today,” Yolani said in the middle of their dinner. She noticed the little girl was picking out the peas from her rice and mashing them between her fingers before eating them. “Bill.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ulyssa said, more focused on chewing her Beijing beef.

“Alma told me they had taken pictures today at JCPenney. They were dressed super nice,” she said, smiling at Echo. Since she had been there, she had changed into lilac footie pajamas. “Very fashion-forward, very New York. You know what I mean?”

“Of course, I stayed with them there, remember? Alma dresses very nicely there. I was even surprised she could look like that,” she said, sipping on her can of orange soda.

“Right. When I saw her today, I thought the same,” she said, spearing a piece of sauteed broccoli. “He seems a bit serious…”

“Bill?”

“Well, yeah, ‘Lyssa, who else?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, kinda. He made me nervous when I first met him, but he’s actually pretty nice. I don’t know if serious is how I would describe him, though. More like reserved.” She could tell when speaking to him that he seemed to be thinking more than what he would share out loud.

“Mhmm,” she expressed as she chewed. “What does he do? I remember you telling me he had a fu-” She took a cautious glance at Echo. She didn’t like to curse in front of her, so she corrected herself. “Frickin’ penthouse in Manhattan. Like that’s lavish, no?”

Ulyssa chewed slowly to buy time. Yolani had heard about her trip to New York City, but because her friend asked, she had omitted the strip club part. “I told you, business, stocks, shit like that.” She shrugged and proceeded to take a big bite of food to keep her mouth busy with something else.

“Watch your mouth around the baby… bitch,” she said, putting her hand up to conceal the lower part of her face from Echo while she mouthed the word. “Okay, sure. But he has to at least come from money, right? That sounds like trust fund baby crap.”

“‘Lani, I don’t f-frickin’ know! Can we just eat?”

“Fine,” she digressed. “I know Alma is your best friend, but remember, I’m your sister. Your twin sister. I know when you’re not telling me something.”

Ulyssa sat back in her seat, and the sisters stared each other down in contempt. She shook her head and glanced at Echo, who was happily holding chow mein noodles over her head to eat them. Only her sister could get under her skin like this. Alma paid her quite handsomely for her babysitting services. She had never questioned where she had gotten the money to do so. She was even bold enough to quit her job when she asked Alma if she could match her wage to still pay rent. Alma did it without a second thought, and her sister took it without one either. However, when she met Bill for the first time, questions sprang into her mind as well. She couldn’t completely blame her sister for being nosy, but usually, that was her job growing up when time permitted. There was just something about Bill that seemed to provoke people.

“Why should it matter? He has money, and?”

“And he was stepping in my place in Christian Louboutins!” She scoffed.

Ulyssa took a deep breath and shook her head. “Okay… I’ll tell you. But,” she stressed. “After E’ goes to bed and after you help me fix my hair.” She took off her light blue beanie revealing her chemically fried hair was flat against her head. She leaned towards Echo and ran her hands through it, tufts of hair now sticking up which made her giggle at how silly she looked.

Yolani rolled her eyes. “You’re making me think it’s something bad. What is he like, like some kung fu hitman?” She chuckled.

“You’re stupid. No, I just don’t want to discuss it in front of Alma’s kid,” she gestured. “I know she's little, but it doesn’t feel right to.”

“Alright, I understand.”

“And I know you’re my sister, but I have the right to keep shi- crap to myself sometimes, you know. I know you do.”

Yolani scoffed. “Like what?”

“Simi? You knew he was an underground fighter before I did. What’s so wrong with me knowing that?”

“Ugh. Whatever,” she shrugged dismissively. “Did you get Alma’s birthday stuff? She still has no clue about her surprise at The Rooster, by the way.”

“Yeah. Gregory is going to help me bring the balloons and stuff to the bar tomorrow.”

“He likes you, you know.” She smirked, took a bite of fried rice from her fork, and raised her eyebrows smugly.

She reached over to Echo and covered her ears to speak freely for a moment. “E-fucking-nough of that, ‘Lani! It’s not like that.”

“Maybe to you, but not to him.” Ulyssa sneered at her response. “Okay, after Echo goes to bed.” She said putting a halt to her taunting.

They had taken turns dancing around the living room fort they built with Echo before bed to tire her out. They had tied a sheet to a hanging planter and let it drape over the loveseat like a canopy. Echo was having a blast, clapping her hands and dancing for the third time to I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston at her insistence. They let the rest of the tape play at a low volume, and Ulyssa sat on a pillow with Echo in her arms in front of the couch, waiting for her sister to grab the tools she needed to create finger waves in her hair.

She rocked Echo in her arms; she didn’t feel like she had a maternal bone in her body, but she did believe in sisterhood. She was in the hospital room when Echo came into the world, and she felt that experience was enough for her in this lifetime.

Yolani paused while spraying her sister's short, bleached hair with water as she laid the baby on the designated palette of felt blankets they had made for her. When she crawled back to sit down in front of her, she gave her an annoyed expression. Luckily, she had time after dinner to create at least a half-truth.

“So?” Yolani said, dipping her hand into a large jar of crystalline green hair gel.

“He owns a club in New York City. It’s popular. There's lots of money going around in there. It’s big too, with a nice big bar and a kitchen.”

“Was that so fucking hard to say? Christ.” She said, speaking freely now that Echo had gone to bed. “Is that how he and Alma met? She worked at the bar there.”

“No. They know each other from way back,” she said as her sister tilted her head into place. “She did work there, though.”

“Right. So that’s it? You’re so weird sometimes.” Ulyssa flinched. She knew she was, but it sometimes hurt to hear. Yolani frowned regretfully. She was her biggest defender, but she could also be her biggest bully. “Sorry. I don’t mean that,” she said, combing the gel through her hair with an orange rattail comb.

“Whatever.”

“I’ve been being a bitch, I know,” she sighed. “Anyway, Bill is kinda good looking right? In a, weird kind of way?”

Ulyssa chuckled at her sister. “He’s handsome, yeah.” She said it with a disinterested shrug. “Kinda reminds me of David Bowie in a way.”

“Oh! Or like a young Mick Jagger!”

“Yeah! I see it.”

“He’s tall as hell too. I was craning my damn neck back just to look at him. Alma did good I think. I don’t hate it. They certainly made a gorgeous baby,” she corrected the placement of Ulyssa’s head once again when she tried to nod in agreement. “I told him that Echo talks about him. You know just to say something. But she just says Papa phone when mine rings,” she laughed.

“Aww,” she smiled.

“Anyway, so Gregory…”

“No!” She groaned.

….

At the hotel, Bill had been constantly checking his expensive wristwatch while sipping on a glass of bourbon at the bar. He took a seat by a window to observe the rainfall and the lightning scattering high in the sky in the far distance. He was starting to like the city the more he visited. In a similar way that he had done years ago, Alma had found a place filled with emerging music. Something they had bonded over even more years ago. Their tastes had veered and verged over the decades since, as they should, but they would always find some common ground in whatever they were listening to. He had stopped being so staunch with his music taste a long time ago. He even listened to Fleetwood Mac or Linda Ronstadt without fear of people thinking he was a bit soft, like when he was a teen.

He would never admit it, but sometimes the thrashing music was just getting too loud for him. The first time that thought ran through his mind, he was appalled with himself. He was just getting old, trying to salvage the hearing he still had. Or so that's what he told himself. He still liked alternative music, albeit at a respectable volume these days.

“Would you like another, sir?” A waitress asked him in passing, pulling him from his thoughts.

He looked at his nearly empty glass and then his wristwatch. “No. Thank you.”

“Certainly.”

He drank the rest of his bourbon in one gulp, set a fifty-dollar bill on the table, and swiftly left. His heart was thrumming in his chest and his dick the whole way back up to the suite. He anxiously anticipated seeing her in the jacuzzi waiting for him. It might have been a little juvenile with how he wanted to be with her. It wasn’t until he had been experiencing long stretches of celibacy that he learned he wasn’t some sex fiend, but for her, he was. It was different. He never really believed people when they would say it was better when you actually liked the person. Sex was sex. Even bad, it was good. He learned otherwise.

He loved Alma. So dearly. While he yearned for her, she did too. That made him feel good about himself. That he could be so desirable to someone beyond his dick. He grew up thinking no one would genuinely love him. He grew up thinking he wasn’t capable of doing the same with anyone either. Until Alma. And it scared him so much when the realization hit him at a spring they’d visit to swim in Strathburg. He didn’t have any other choice then but to leave, which unfortunately meant leaving her too. At the time, he felt it was for the best, even for her. They had made a promise to reconnect in New York City when she finished school. And though it hurt him, he hoped she’d just forget about him during that time and find someone better. Fall in love with someone who'll love her better.

He had his regrets and fumbles, still trying to push her away in hopes she’d come to her senses. It would have been smarter for her to, but he was glad she never did. She only wanted him. She only loved him. She had kept her promise and found him. After everything happened and she left New York he couldn’t stand it. He had succeeded in pushing her away and hated himself for it. So he searched for her too. He kept his promise but it didn’t feel like he had fulfilled it properly because he couldn’t stay.

He entered the suite, kicking his boots off while unbuttoning his shirt. Alma heard him from the room and walked out with a fresh face, wearing a tank top and short cotton shorts. His fantasy of how he would approach her in the bubbly tub shattered. Was she actually mad at him for denying her a kiss? He thought.

“You wasted no time,” she laughed.

He tilted his head at her. “You’re supposed to be in the jacuzzi?”

“I was. I don’t want to start there,” she smirked.

“Hmm.” He nodded. As he undid the last button on his shirt and reached for his belt buckle, Alma put her hand out to stop him.

“You can take the shirt off but leave everything else on. I said I wanted to go slow.”

He shrugged off his button-up, letting it fall to the floor. “Even my belt?”

“Especially that.” She winked, wrapping her arms around him.

They began kissing deeply like he said he would when he returned. His hands found their way inside her tank top, but she stopped him. Taking his hands, she placed them on her bottom, prompting him to effortlessly lift her onto his waist. He walked to the bed, and together they fell on the plush mattress.

Bill had been lying between Alma’s spread legs for some time, making out and leaving love bites on each other's sensitive skin. Apparently, when she said slow, she meant really slow. They had been rutting themselves against each other, and he had moved his hips just so that the buckle of his belt was pressing on her sex, making her moan. She bucked her hips with more determination, liking the feeling of the cold, hard metal against her. Little waves of satisfaction washed over her, but it wasn’t enough. There were too many layers between them.

“Let me take these off, baby,” he said, running his hands to her waist when he noticed how she was moving against him. He looked down at her, her lips swollen and blushing from their fervent kissing, as was his. She instructed him to leave her panties on.

When her bare breasts were finally in view, he felt his heart skip when the cool air perked her nipples, but before he could lean down to stamp his lips over them, she reached up to undo his belt for him. Quickly, he took his tank top off and watched her hands slide down his abs and he smiled with pride at his hardwork as she admired them. Her hands expertly undid his belt and trousers. While doing so a hand snuck inside them to rub on his erection that was pressing against his gray boxer briefs, and it made him jump. Once he was free of his pants, she hooked her leg around his waist, pulling him close to continue dry humping.

They were both moaning into each other's mouths now. He was beginning to enjoy himself more, being able to be a bit closer. His dick twitched when they moved their bodies in surprisingly subtle ways. He ducked his head down, finally wrapping his plump lips around her nipple, and she sighed into it as she brushed his hair back affectionately.

He was getting a bit restless, wanting to feel her for real, so he started gingerly kissing down her torso. Alma watched him, smiling to herself at his eagerness. She let him go down on her, tracing the damp slit of her panties with his flat tongue. She bucked her hips against his face while he indulged himself a bit until she reached down and cupped his chin with her hand.

“Let me taste you,” he said with pleading eyes. His fingers snuck into the side of her panties to run along her slit.

“You will,” she giggled. “Sit up.” She did so herself. He leaned back on his knees now, and she smirked, noticing the dark, wet spot on his underwear that his arousal had made a mess of. Her finger pressed against it, taunting him before crawling away. He did away with his last piece of clothing, making his stiff dick smack against his lower tummy. She instructed him to sit down where she had been as she rummaged around in her bag beside the bed.

She crawled back over to him with one hand tightly fisted around an item, and with his help, she situated herself in his lap. Now face to face.

“What is this?” he said, grabbing her wrist, and slowly a few of her fingers unfurled around the pink bullet vibrator. “Oh,” he said, raising his brow. “Is this your other request?” He said taking it from her hand. “You want me to use this on you finally.” He had been kind of dodging it. Every time she’d suggest it, he’d just toss her in another position to distract her.

“Well, yeah, but you too.” She said as she peppered kisses along his jaw.

“Hmm,” he said, biting his lip skeptically.

“What? Are you prude?” She playfully mocked.

He let out a smug chuckle. “Turn it on.” He said, passing it back to her. He wasn’t all that interested in the toy, but he was very interested in finally having his dick touched.

As she turned it on, her other hand reached down taking hold of his cock, and slid his tip between her folds. He groaned when she started giving him long, slow, purposeful strokes with her own slick. He reached out to kiss her then, gratefully.

She leaned back from him, the pink bullet vibrating in her hand at its lowest setting, and placed it flat against the underside of him, and he jerked back at the feeling.

“Ah!” He hollered, startling her. “Kidding,” he laughed.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She placed it back in position, and he let himself feel it now. The reverberations felt nice on his tip, and then, holding it in place with her thumb she began stroking him again and he bowed his head at the feeling. She kissed his forehead while breathy moans escaped him and then they turned into deep mewls the more they continued. Alma took it upon herself to turn the speed up a notch and slide it closer to his tip, holding it there.

“Fuck.” He breathed while his hands caressed her breasts. The head of his blushing dick was leaking precum more than he had ever seen before.

His dick started to twitch in her hand and his hips involuntarily bucked upward. Bringing it down to his balls, she began to stroke him with her other hand with an even pressure. He bit his lip and a low grunt sounded from his chest as his abs flexed. His eyes fluttered closed; all he could do was feel how good he felt—little shockwaves flowing under his skin in the same rhythm as the vibrator.

“Okay,” he said, with a slight rasp in his voice. If he didn’t stop her now, he would come, and he wanted to save that for when he was finally inside her. “Your turn,” he said, taking the vibe from her hand.

She smiled impishly. She leaned back on his lap and began to slide back to take her panties off but he stopped her from doing so. Instead, he found the seam on the side of her bikini-cut panties and tugged, splitting the threads apart. Alma gasped and then giggled with delight at his hastiness. The panties were now just around her left thigh, like some kind of ratty garter.

First, his hand reached between her thighs to feel her warmth, his pointer finger running along the strip of hair, then down to feel how obscenely wet she was for him, and to bring his fingers to his lips to taste her. He had almost asked her if she was ready for the vibrator; his mind was muddied by everything going on, forgetting she was more familiar than he was.

Holding it between two fingers, he held it down at the start of her slit and dipped it down a little, and he knew he hit the spot when her hips jolted. He held it against her and saw how fast she reacted. Her chest rose at the feeling, and her brows furrowed. He pulled it away and looked at her, a bit perturbed.

“Don’t stop,” she said breathlessly.

“You said it wasn’t better than me?”

She responded by placing his hand and the vibrator back in position. “It’s not. I don’t have time to play with myself like you do.” She lightly moaned at the thought of him pleasuring himself.

She leaned back further and placed her hand against his, showing him how to rub his over her pussy along with the vibrator. Once his ministrations were to her liking, she leaned all the way back, now laying between his opened legs while hers were still around his waist. Moans escaped her lips, and she pulled in a sharp breath, feeling herself just about to release. Her first orgasm of the night.

The sight of her body writhing, her pussy pulsing just beneath his touch, and her hands sensually drifting across the soft skin of her body was a beautiful sight. Her chest heaved with each orgasm, which came in almost rapid succession. This little machine was better than him. It was undoing her over and over, each orgasm stronger than the other.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he said as his jaw dropped in awe. Completely shocked at the way her body moved just inches from his deprived cock. “I need to be inside you.” He swallowed hard. All she could do was nod her head, stuck in the rise of another impending climax. With his free hand, he grabbed himself and met resistance as he pushed in. Only being able to be a couple of inches inside her, but even that made his eyes close appreciatively. Having been edging herself until this point, her swollen cunt was so fucking tight and hot for him. This is what she was trying to show him—what this little pink vibrator could do.

That was enough for her at the moment. Even if he was unable to move properly inside her, it was just in the right spot, pushing against the spongy, sensitive nerve inside her. He could feel her pulsing and clenching intensely. Her back arched against the mattress, and she clawed his hairy legs as she came hard, liquid gushing out of her.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he said, desire and want engulfing him.

So consumed, he didn’t give her time to come down from her high. Instead, he set the vibrator aside and pulled her back up into his lap. Alma yelled at the sudden bombardment when he plunged inside her. Stretched and full. Finally, their bodies connected fully.

"Oh, my fucking god,” Alma said, thrusting her hips. She felt the heady rush, intoxicated with arousal. “I fucking love you.”

He groaned. “I love you. Fuck me!” Finally, he begged as he gripped her hips, assisting her in her movements. His mind was shutting off as he felt her, as he watched her tits springing before him, and only his body spoke with hers.

His hands went up to her back and held onto her shoulders as if to push her down further while she enthusiastically bounced on him repeatedly. At this angle, he could feel himself reach the end of her, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Sucking breath through his teeth. His muscles tensed, the sounds of heady moans filled the room, and their shared wetness was exhilarating.

“Ah, fuck! Alma,” he moaned with his face pressed against her breasts. “I’m gonna cum.”

She started riding him with a fluid, quick motion, almost there herself. She wanted him to look her in the eyes; cupping his jaw caused his lips to pout as their eyes met. She had a devious smirk on her face, while her hips never ceased. His high cheeks and angular nose were flush, and his lust-hazed eyes were utterly beseeching.

“You want to cum inside me, don’t you?” His muscles in his lower belly tightened further as she spoke. “You want to put another baby inside me, don’t you?” His eyes widened with how she spoke to him, almost as if she thought he was a little pathetic, but it was driving him to the edge. Because yes, yes, he wanted that!

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“I know you do, you sick fuck!” She pushed his head back and that was it for him.

He came so fucking hard, his head was spinning. Completely enraptured. He didn’t know which way was up or down, and she kept riding him mercilessly, getting hers. Fighting against her shaky legs as she hollered out impassioned. Milking him for all he had as rope after rope of cum filled her innermost depths.

They collapsed on the bed next to each other, trying to find their breath again and their right mind. The buzzing of the vibrator somewhere on the bed could be heard after being forgotten. Bill turned to Alma, taking a deep breath. Locks of her hair were stuck across her dewy face as she tried to settle.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asked with disbelief.

Alma pushed her hair out of her face to bashfully look at him. Smiles stretched across their glowing faces and they burst out laughing.

…

Two empty bottles of champagne were sitting by the bottom of the jacuzzi tub next to two folded white towels. Alma, with her hair in a loose bun and tendrils of wavy hair falling from it, took a sip from the spout of another bottle just before positioning herself on the edge of the tub. Half her body was out of the soapy water and bent over with her heart-shaped ass in view of the Polaroid camera Bill had pointed at her.

“Bend over some more, love,” he instructed with a half-smoked cigarette perched between his lips.

As she did so, he smiled to himself when her pretty pussy revealed itself, and he took the photo. He set the few snapshots he took of her by the empty bottles, as well as dropping his lit cigarette inside one. She sat back between his legs again with her body turned so he could take a photo of themselves kissing in the tub before he set it aside. They continued kissing, touching their smooth, silky, wet skin. Enjoying each other’s presence. Finally, just them two together.

Now that they weren’t in the throes of ecstasy, Bill thought about what she had said to him in bed. She was absolutely nuts for it but he liked it. For a moment, he thought, maybe she had changed her mind about having another kid had he not remembered she was still actively taking her birth control.

“So, sick fuck?” He smirked because maybe she was right.

Alma chuckled. “What, you didn’t like that?” She said it smugly. “You know, there were like two different times back in the apartment that I asked you to cum on me? You pretended to not hear me.”

Bill scoffed. “I swear I didn’t hear you.” He lied. He heard her.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She said, taking a sip of the champagne and handing it off to Bill. “Look where we are now… Imagine if we had sex in high school. I wanted you then, you know.”

Bill sighed wistfully. “I did too. But it’s good we didn’t.”

“Why?”

“We wouldn’t be where we’re at right now. We’d be broke as shit in a trailer with like five dirty kids, and you’re pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen in Strathburg.” He laughed.

“Fuck off!” Alma cringed but laughed with him.

“And besides, I was too young; I would have came too fast and it wouldn’t be any good for you.” He said, scratching his brow.

It was nice to know he was considerate. However, it wasn’t like her first time was any better. She plucked out a broody boy from her Psychology 101 class to do it with, and while he seemed like a soft, sensitive type, in bed he was anything but gentle. Bill wasn’t a virgin when they became friends. Usually, when boys that age get a taste, it typically would start a frenzy inside them. Not him. When he explained how he lost his back then it didn’t seem like he was particularly fond of how it went down but of course as a teen he couldn’t really admit that. In hindsight, it was nice to not be seen as some sort of conquest, but as a 17-year-old girl, it made her want to die.

Alma bit her lip to keep a knowing smirk from appearing. “Well… I mean, our first time you did cum fast.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned. He was a bit embarrassed about that. “I just got overexcited,” he defended. "Like, I couldn’t believe that shit was actually happening,” he chuckled. Even now, he sometimes can't believe it. “And I don’t remember our first time like that. I think of that night as a whole, not like sex one, two, and three.” He explained, speaking with his hands.

“And four.” She snorted. “I love you. Even if we were broke in a trailer with five dirty kids. I don’t want five kids, by the way,” she said quickly with a pointed look. “Why do they have to be dirty, though? I don’t think we’re that fucked up.”

Bill smiled, taking hold of her face to kiss her deeply.

…

A torrential downpour was pelting down on the city of Seattle while they slept nude, cozy, and warm under the goose-down blanket in bed. Thunder was rumbling in the heavy, billowy clouds above. Strikes of lightning illuminated the dark, gray skies above.

Bill slowly woke on his own. It was the morning of Alma’s 31st birthday. She had her head lying on his chest, softly and evenly breathing. Gently, he brushed her hair back and smiled to himself, thinking back to when the clock struck midnight while they were in the jacuzzi. How she rose to her feet in the tub, pouring champagne down her torso, and he drank it up as it waterfalled at the crux of her just before burying his face into her core, letting her ride his face.

They had left the curtains open, so when he turned his head, he saw the active storm outside. A nice spring storm. Though he hated where he was from, he did miss Midwestern storms; those were some of the best. A boom loud thunderclap sounded, which deafened him for a moment and even rattled the building. Car alarms could be heard being tripped by it. Alma jolted awake from her sleep, and he felt her swipe under her pillow for a pocket knife that wasn’t there.

"Alma, it was–” He began to say but she turned to him—still confused and bleary-eyed from sleep—and tried to punch him but he caught her fist in time. “Hey,” he said firmly, pulling her hand down to his chest. “It’s the storm.”

Alma looked at him wide-eyed in shock, that she almost hit him. “I’m sorry…” She said, taking a deep breath and looking out the windows. “Um,” she swallowed. “Could you call Yolani?”

He nodded. She buried her face in her pillow, seemingly ashamed. He reached for the phone on the nightstand next to him. He also wanted to know if his daughter was alright. That lightning strike hit incredibly close. However, in the back of his mind, he knew about Alma not doing so well lately. He was trying to hold off on that conversation, but even during her birthday getaway, he could sense her anxiety. Her tiredness. Even last night, before bed, she seemed to have a hard time sleeping despite it.

She was holding a lot of her stress in. On phone calls, she told him everything, but she omitted how she was feeling a lot. As if it didn’t matter. He didn’t like that because it mattered to him but if he pressed, she’d just become annoyed and shut down. It was futile.

A few weeks ago, Ulyssa had called him. He found it odd, but he was glad she did after what he learned. She was also worried about her friend.

“I might be overstepping. But I thought I should let you know. Maybe you already do.” She said on the line.

She explained to him of an incident that happened at the record shop during a show. How she and Alma were watching some shitty, hardcore band play. Alma was too close to the mosh pit; she was at the edges, thinking she was safe from it until some asshole broke through the wall of bodies and grabbed her by the back of the neck, and swung her into the pit.

“She stumbled when she was pushed in,” Ulyssa said. “Then she got pushed again, you know, but then she froze, holding onto her neck with this look in her eyes… It had this haunted look. I don’t know it just didn’t settle right with me. Big Rod caught what happened and got her out of there. But she just immediately sped off and locked herself in the office.”

“For how long?” He said tensely, rubbing his forehead.

“Mm. Maybe like thirty, forty minutes? And then she came out, you know. But pretended like she wasn’t in there crying when, I mean, you could tell.”

“Shit,” Bill muttered under his breath.

“She’s done that a few times… cry in the office but never that long. But I mean, I’ve cried at work before too, so I didn't really think much of it until… yeah. You know this though, right?” She said worried that she might be ratting her friend out.

“Yeah, I know.” He lied. “I understand why you called concerned, though.”

Now he was on the phone with her twin sister. She assured him all was well and that since they were closer to the Space Needle lightning strikes happen. The giant rod on top of the structure acts as a beacon for them. Alma had sat up some and had her ear close to the phone he was holding to hear their conversation.

“Echo is starting to wake up. And Ulyssa is making blueberry pancakes.” Yolani said, trying to get off the line.

“Happy Birthday, Alma!” He could hear Ulyssa holler further away from the phone.

“Yeah, tell her we said Happy Birthday!”

Bill glanced at her, she didn’t look like she wanted to speak. “She says thanks.” He said for her.

He leaned over to hang the phone up and when he turned to her again, her lips met his. Pulling him close until he was hovering above her. He knew this was a distraction, avoiding having to talk. He relented, surrendering to her touch, and made love to her. He felt how she held him close. Her manicured nails dug into the skin of his back. Her legs wrapped around his waist while their bodies pressed tightly together. Her hands gripped the hair on the back of his head while they kissed passionately.

They lay in comfortable bliss next to each other. Both hugged pillows, looking at each other with admiration. Eventually her eyes closed in appreciation of how his fingertips were lovingly floating over her bare back. Which sent nice shivers up her spine, tingling up to the top of her scalp adding to the feeling of the aftershocks of her climax.

A glint of sadness flashed across his eyes as he looked at her and corrected it. It was so faint when she whispered it, between his professions of love, but he heard it almost loud and clear. Don’t leave me.

Her eyes opened when his hand trailed up her back and she felt the pad of his finger press against her forehead.

“What’s going on up here?” he asked carefully, brushing her hair back.

She frowned. It was her birthday. Did he really have to do this? Crying today of all days would be too cliche.

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” She sighed.

“What is it? School? Work? Echo? Shit, all of it? I heard about what happened. That you got thrown into a mosh pit by the neck?” He swallowed hard. While it pissed him off that some buffoon did that to her, it pained his heart too. The state of her throat after what Craig did to her was seared into his mind. Marred by galaxy-colored bruises. She couldn’t even speak right for over a month. It made him sick to think about it. Since then, he has only been tender to that part of her body. Light touches. Delicate kisses. While it took some time, she trusted him.

Alma lightly groaned. “Ulyssa?” She accurately accused. “Yeah, that happened. It was stupid.” She said dismissively. “You know how a pit gets.”

"Sure, but I heard it freaked you out. And I know why. But I don’t like that.”

“I’m just a bit overwhelmed. That didn’t help. I’m just ready to be over school and go back to New York. I want to be done with all of this. It doesn’t feel fair for me to complain about this shit to you when it’s my fault.”

“That’s no reason to hold it in.” Bill took a deep breath when she didn’t have a response. So stubborn. “Can I ask you something?” She remained quiet, ready to hear what it was. “I know you want to come back to New York, and I want that too. But,” he sighed. “Do you feel indebted to me because of what I did? I don’t want you to come back for my sake. I want you to be happy. This can’t work if you feel like that.”

Alma closed her eyes, feeling tears prick at them. If she didn’t know him the way she did she would have thought he was dumping her. “Bill… I would be happy. If you didn’t kill him. It would have been me.”

A shock went through his heart when she said the word. Kill. It felt too candid. He felt exposed hearing the word uttered from her lips. He turned on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Worse.”

“Hmm?”

He shook his head. “If I didn’t do it, they would have done worse.” He had learned new things about the Russos after the fact. When Cousin Marco started coming around more, he had heard stories from him in jest. About their plethora of crooked dealings. They had threatened to kill Alma had he not kept up his part of their black deal. Through Cousin Marco, he learned that they used their strip joint as a human trafficking hub. Shipping women off like cargo across the states. That’s what they would have done to her. She was worth more to them alive. It was worse than death. “I don’t regret what I did.” He said affirmatively.

She reached over to hold his hand. “I know. I wish you didn’t have to, though. I’ve put it all away in a box but can I ask you something? So we can just put it away again for good?”

His eyes peered down toward her and he nodded as he pulled her hand close to his chest, cupping it with his other.

She took a shaky inhale. “What’d they do with him?”

Bill frowned and looked back up at the ceiling. “Mm. Do you need to know?”

“So you know? I watch Unsolved Mysteries, and they’ve been bringing up how DNA technology is advancing and-”

“Alma, I don't think you should be watching that shit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Um, I only know what I’ve heard about others from Cousin Marco. But uh, what I’m nearly sure happened is that he was taken to one of the various construction sites that the Russos own, and… he’s in pieces,” he said, just getting to the point. “He’s a concrete foundation.”

Alma swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth, feeling a tad nauseous. He was a tall man, just like Bill. It was sickening to think that he had been reduced to nothing. “Oh,” was all she could muster to say.

“That’s it. I’m not trying to be insensitive, but please don’t worry about this shit anymore. It’s on me. You weren’t there.”

“Yes, okay.” She sighed because she knew that even if they were to ever get caught, he was going to take all the blame. It didn’t matter if she disagreed. However, they had a kid now, she knew what role she must play. “Before we’re done, Bill. Do you ever wonder if we’re just good people who had to do a bad thing or if we're bad people pretending to be good?” It had been a question that had been weighing heavily on her lately.

Bill’s hand moved to rub his forehead. He’s wondered these thoughts himself sometimes in bed, bored and restless in the penthouse. “I don’t think it matters,” he sighed. “I think it should be us who determine if we’re good. There’s a duality to it but I don’t care whether anybody else thinks so. Do you think I am?” He asked, turning to look at her.

“I do. You’re good,” she said, squeezing his hand with a small, sincere smile.

“You’re good too.” He said, feeling a lump form in his throat.

It was as if some kind of relief washed over her when he said it. Her face scrunched and her eyes shut tight as they watered. She really didn’t want to cry on her birthday. She took a deep breath when she managed to keep them at bay and he politely wiped away the dampness under her eyes with his thumb just before he pulled her close. He wished she hadn't held it in.

#my bill writings #avenue of sins #bill skarsgard #aos #aos neon

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masiethewriter · 2 years

Text

Out of Your Mind

My second piece for HarringroveWeek! I had originally planned to write more, but as always I overestimate how much writing I can get done :P Oh well~~

Prompts: Gone Feral, Alpha/Omega

Trigegr Warnings: A bit forcefull behavior

Teaser: Steve instinctually ducks down as Billy roars. Covering his neck, he tries to make himself as small a target as possible. Those outside fall silent, and Steve can hear them scramble away from the door.

Steve has never heard Billy roar before, and he hopes he never has to hear it again. He is shaking all over, and it takes all his control not to whimper. He is tense all over, ready for Billy to assault him, just like he has done before.

It is only after a few seconds of nothing happening that Steve dares to look up. To his wonder, Billy hasn’t moved from his spot. He does look absolutely furious, heaving with breath and body taut. But he isn’t looking at Steve. Rather, it is as if he is trying to see through the door, at those behind it.

Making a hasty assumption Steve calls out to the others: “Guys, he isn’t doing anything. I think it’s fine."

Steve finds himself racing through Hawkins after the call from Max. He hadn't gotten much out of her before they were interrupted, but enough to keep just above the speed limit the entire way.

Since all this shit began, the line between their world and the Upside Down has become unstable. This has resulted in smaller portals opening and closing randomly throughout the entire town area.

While it rarely happens, a pack of demodogs and the like will sometimes get through, attacking anything close by. As their group is seemingly still the only people who know of the upside down, it has become their responsibility to deal with the monsters each time they break through.

Yesterday had been one of those days, so everyone had gotten together and fought off the beasts once again.

No matter how many times they faced the feral flowery heads, Steve never got any less afraid for everyone and himself. But he, as well as the others, became more practical. How to prepare, laying out traps, best positions for confrontation and how to handle the aftermath had become dangerously close to routine. But it meant they were more ready, better prepared and usually got out of their fights with only minor scratches.

Sadly yesterday hadn't been the usual.

The monsters had been slightly different. While resembling the demodogs in shape, they had been smaller and darker in color. They were also faster than what they were used to.

It had been more challenging than usual, but they had managed to round up all the little beasts and kill them.

Not without harm. By the end of the night, Billy had been bitten by one of the monsters, bite marks oozing blood from his waist. It had looked bad, but with help from Joyce, they managed to clean it up, giving him a big plaster, and otherwise sent him home together with Max.

Everyone else had also returned to their respective houses, and Steve got his adrenaline crash in the lonely comfort of his too big house, skipping a shower and food for a warm, safe bed.

When he woke up the next morning, with the monster hunter version of a hangover, he had barely been able to keep from falling asleep in his coffee, when Max had called. Next thing he knew he stood outside Billy’s shack with Max, Nancy and Mike all shouting at each other.

Getting out of his car, he didn't get to find out what they were all yelling about before Max is running towards him.

"Good, you're here! Billy is acting crazy and those knuckleheads here aren’t being any help," she says before Steve could ask what was going on.

"I don't see how Billy acting crazy is any different from how he usually is," Mike is quick to cut in.

Max already looked furious when facing Steve, and she is almost on fire as she turns back towards Mike.

"Shut up! you don't know anything you little-"

"Wow, wait, hold up, can someone explain what is happening?" Steve is quick to jump in, before they get into more of a fight.

"When we got back yesterday he was fine, but he kept being on edge the entire night and this morning he literally growled at me and threw me out the house-" Max tries to explain, but Steve interrupts.

"Growling? What? Billy never growls, what did you do?" Steve has to ask.

Some alphas just can't shut up when it comes to imposing themselves on others, a constant pissing contest of trying to seem like the biggest dick in the room. Billy has never been the type to do that, confident enough to know he doesn’t need cheap tricks to stand above the rest.

The only time Steve had ever heard anything like it from the man was that night they were facing the demodogs and he came looking for Max. As Billy demanded to know where Max was, his voice had just been rough enough to not miss the thread in his words.

Since then Steve has never heard anything like it again. Surprisingly enough Billy is one of the more controlled Alphas Steve knows. at least when it comes to alpha posturing. His temper is still a work in progress.

Though it’s been better ever since he moved out of his dad's house.

Fact of the matter is, Billy isn’t the growly type, though right now it seems Max begs to differ.

“I didn’t do shit! He was weird the entire morning and when I tried calling everyone for help, he threw me out before I could get the whole group. I even dropped the walkie talkie in there,” Max yells at Steve, and okay, Steve didn’t intend to start another shouting match with his question.

Trying to placate Max he looks over at Nancy for help and notices the first aid kit in her hands for the first time.

“Wait, what’s with that? Did he hurt anyone?” Steve asks, suddenly distracted by looking Max over for any injuries.

She just rolls her eyes as Nancy answers his question.

“It’s for Billy. Max mentioned that his injury from yesterday was bleeding through the plaster, so I brought this to help. We haven’t been able to get in, though, he locked the door.”

At her words, Steve begins to get heavy with worry. For some reason the idea of Billy being locked inside by himself while hurt isn’t sitting well with him. Looking over at the house, his thoughts are interrupted when Mike suddenly turns towards him.

“Can’t you do something? Calm the asshole down or something?” Mike says, as snootily as ever.

“Wait, why do I have to solve this?” Steve asks. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help, but what does Mike think he can do that the others can’t?

“You’re the omega, aren’t you used to dealing with crappy alphas?” Mike says, and wow, Steve knew the kid could be rude, but he’s never been this-

“Okay Mike, I think you have said enough, you clearly aren’t being any help,” Nancy says, as she pushes Mike out of the way. Max takes advantage and hits him in the back of his head and hisses something Steve can’t hear. “But it is good you are here, Steve. Do you have any idea how we can get in?”

“Ehh,” Steve hesitates. He isn’t sure what he can offer, that the others haven't tried yet. “Have you tried knocking?”

Yeah, okay, properly not the best idea, as everyone's faces reveal. He is used to being an idiot though, so he shrugs and takes the first aid kit from Nancy and walks the steps up onto the porch. Sparing a glance back he knocks on the door and calls out:

“Hey Billy, everyone is worried about you. Can you come out and show you haven’t died yet?”

Silence. Steve is fine being patient, though a sentiment not shared by those behind him.

“This is so stupid, why are we wasting our time here when we could-” Mike says, and Steve can’t take this anymore.

Turning around on the spot he points right at the brat. “I don’t get what you problem is, but you better cut it off before-”

Steve trails off as he sees the others' faces. A mix of confusion and shock meets him, as they all stare at something over his shoulder.

Steve manages to get out a strangled “What?” before a pair of arms catch him from behind. Before he has time to act he is dragged inside, the door slamming closed behind him. The others shouts of his name almost drows out the sound of the lock right before he is forcefully pushed away.

Turning around it is of course Billy who has forced him inside.

And the other man looks terrible.

Topless and shoeless, he only has a pair of sweatpants to keep his modesty. Sweat is glistening on his body and face, his hair greasy from it. Steve suddenly understands what Max meant when she called Billy crazy, as he looks into the others eyes.

Billy is absolutely out of his mind. He is hunched over himself, defensive, as if Steve would ever have a chance in a fight against him. A continuous rumble that was promising no good is pushed up his throat, through his teeth which are exposed with a snarl.

What reveals the most about Billy’s state of mind is his eyes. Usually clear pools of blue are now wild oceans promising to drown everything within. Right this moment Billy is nothing more than a wild animal, ready to lash out at anything and anyone.

In the end, what makes Steve flinch is the state of his wound. The plaster has loosened, with blood and mucus dripping down his side and soaking into the fabric of his pants. It didn’t seem as bad as it had been yesterday, but clearly it needed to be looked at.

Steve doesn’t know if Billy can recognize him in this state. But getting inside had been their [goal], so Steve attempts to placate the other.

“Ehh, hey, so, Max is kind of worried about you going all weird, so if you could say something sane that would be great?” Steve tries.

Billy doesn’t react to his words beyond the rumble going deeper. Suddenly Steve feels a need to cover his neck, not liking the look of Billy’s teeth and where his eyes are lingering. Feeling like it had been a really stupid move to be alone with Billy, he tries to inch towards the door.

When Billy had locked the door he had placed himself in the hallway scowling at Steve. As Steve reaches towards the handle the rumble turns into a full on growl. Steve doesn’t let that hinder him as he keeps a careful distance between himself and Billy’s reach.

Billy kneels down ready to leap. Steve is ready to throw himself out the door. They are both surprised when suddenly the others try to beat down the door.

“Steve! Are you okay, what is happening in there-”

“Billy, you better not be doing anything to Steve, we had a deal you wouldn’t touch my friends-”

“Someone open the door, Dustin will kill us if Steve dies in there-”

Steve instinctually ducks down as Billy roars. Covering his neck, he tries to make himself as small a target as possible. Those outside fall silent, and Steve can hear them scramble away from the door.

Making a hasty assumption Steve calls out to the others: “Guys, he isn’t doing anything. I think it’s fine."

Speaking up makes him the target of Billy’s laser focus and the growl is back, but he loosens up just a miniscule bit.

"Fine!? Did you just not hear that? What about this is fine-"

Okay, the tiny shred of calm is lost and the deep growl returns the moment Mike opens his mouth. Steve can relate, but it doesn't really help with his current situation.

"Don’t worry, Billy and I are just going to, ehh, hang out for a bit? I actually think it would be better if- if you guys left?"

"Steve. We are not just going to leave you, when we don't know what is going on."

It's a nice sentiment, but reality? The moment Nancy speaks up Billy looks ready to rip someone apart. If Mike was a two on the murderable scale, Nance is a clear ten. Steve would like it if they could get it back down to zero, so he really needs to get rid of them.

Nancy won’t leave until she gets something, so Steve frantically looks around for anything to use. Eyes falling on Billy’s injury make an idea pop up in his head, so he speaks before he can think it through.

"It's probably related to the bite from yesterday, right? You also noticed the demodogs being weird, so-" Apparently Steve is a 100 on the murdering scale, at least when he is talking to others, so he tries to round it up. "So you should look into this. Outside. Away from here. I will try to find out what I can do from inside."

Steve prays for Nancy to listen. As long as they are here he can’t concentrate on defusing the situation. He knows it's because they care, but for once they need to trust him to handle this.

"I will take care of Billy. So I really need you to find the others and solve this. Okay?"

For a moment they are all at a standstill. Steve understands they don't want to leave, but Billy is bleeding and crazy and in need of a bath and fresh clothes and maybe some food if Steve could get him to-

"Okay, fine! You got this. We will keep you updated when we know more," Nancy finally says, and Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. more quietly, he can hear her say "come on, let's go," to the kids and they all start walking away.

At least until someone runs back to the door.

"You better not be a dick, Billy! You understand?!" Max shouts before she runs back to the others.

It doesn't look like he understands, but he doesn't seem to react as badly to Max, so Steve lets it slide. Now that they are finally alone, Steve can finally get out of crouching.

Both awkwardly staring at each other, Steve realizes he doesn’t know what to do. Billy seems calmer, so maybe he can just-

"Hey big guy, what about getting you into a shower, so I can look at that chunk you are missing?" he tries.

No reaction. He even held up the first aid kit hoping the visual cue made it more clear. Instead it is clear that basic speech is beyond Billy’s capabilities at the moment. Nor does he seem to recognize the kit for what it is.

Even Billy seems unhappy about their situation, which is unfair, since it's his fault they are even standing here. The least he could do is take responsibility and let Steve help him. But when he takes a step forward, for a lack of anything else to do, Billy steps back.

Steve frowns, not understanding why Billy is moving away. A second ago he dragged Steve inside, and now he is suddenly getting all defensive? Does he consider Steve a threat or not?

He takes one more step closer to Billy, who steps back so the distance between them remains the same.

Hmm, this is giving him an idea. Steve knows the layout of the house well enough. And while Billy isn't about to let him leave, he is apparently still allowed to move around.

As long as he doesn't get too close, of course.

Steve feels like a man on a mission. He walks further into the house, carefully herding Billy in the direction he wants. He has to keep a slow pace, as any time he steps too far or too quickly, Billy will let out a harsh warning snarl, ready to lash out.

When they finally reach their destination, Steve is hesitant to open the door. Under Billy’s watchful gaze he reaches for the handle, but apparently there is only an issue when he tries to go through the front door, so there is no issue as he enters the bathroom.

Turning on the light, Steve takes a moment to plan out the best course of action. Behind him, Billy takes up the doorway, looking curiously around. Billy’s bathroom is small, the toilet and sink barely leaving enough space for the two adults. Pressed against the wall is a narrow bathtub with a shower head attached.

It would be best if he could get Billy seated on the toilet, though he doesn’t yet know how to get the man to do that. The sink is too small to place the first aid kit on, so he tries to balance on one the edge of the tub. No matter the position, though, it keeps threatening to fall over, so Steve places it inside instead. It will be awkward reaching for the supplies inside, but still better than the floor.

Standing back up, he will now have to find a way to get Billy inside. Maybe if he can-

Steve lets out a scream as he turns around and Billy stands right behind him. He hadn't at all heard the alpha stepping this close into his space and instinctively he steps back.

This is a mistake, as he trips against the tub, falling backwards and crashing his head against the wall.

This time he can’t keep in the whimper as he reaches up to cradle his head. It doesn’t feel like any brain matter is escaping, but it still hurts like a bitch.

Opening his eyes he shrieks as Billy stands right above him. Leaning forward, he braces himself against the wall, effectively caging Steve in.

The position Steve finds himself in is super awkward. Sitting sideways in the already cramped tub, with his legs sticking out the edge, doesn’t give him much leeway to move. Billy standing between his legs also makes him feel warm, a blush reaching his ears. Fuck, was this position suggestive? He has no idea what is going through Billy’s head at this moment.

He tries to push himself up, but Billy doesn't move from his spot. Not much different from facing a brick wall, he goes back down trying to consider his options.

Looking at the loose plaster on Billy’s waist, Steve finds it is within reaching distance if he leans forward a bit. Briefly glancing upwards, Billy looks calm enough, so Steve grabs some supplies from the first aid kit and slowly reaches forward…

First a warning snarl. Steve hesitates, but keeps moving. He almost touches the tip of the plaster, when Billy smacks his hands against the wall above him.

Surprised Steve falls and looks up again. Billy is glaring at him, baring his teeth. Starting to feel annoyed Steve reaches out again.

“I am just trying to help, you dick!”

This time Billy honest to god barks at him. It comes all the way from his throat, all rough and harsh. He smacks his lips like he is ready to bite out if Steve tries again.

What neither of them expect is that Steve has had enough, so without any thought Steve barks right back.

Billy almost rears back looking at Steve in surprise. Steve is not done though, so he growls back, making his frustration clear.

For the first time since Steve got here, it seems he gets through to Billy. The other doesn’t move from his spot, but he leans more invards, making himself smaller. Instead of looking directly at Steve, Billy leans his head to the side, a bit like a child that has been scolded.

Steve suddenly realizes what is happening. Billy doesn’t understand basic language at the moment, but he understands instincts. Specifically he understands his body’s reaction to a displeased omega. Steve can monologue for as long as he wants and get nowhere, but a couple of whines and snarls is enough to get his point across.

With growing horror Steve realizes that Mike actually had a point. Billy is all out of his mind, letting his alpha nature take full control. This is why Steve, the only omega in the group, has been ‘allowed’ inside. Likely also why Steve is still intact after how furious Billy was earlier.

Realizing what he has to do, Steve feels his face heat up.

God, this is so embarrassing! He groans, knocking his head against the wall, immediately regretting it as he hits his bump from his earlier fall. Now Billy suddenly seems concerned, and Steve is so happy there are no witnesses for this.

He is never going to let Mike know about this. The kid is bad enough without confirming his bad stereotypes.

Even if in this one case he is right.

Swallowing his embarrassment, Steve lets out a small whimper.

Billy is immediately fully focused on him, so he drags it out to a soft whine, making it deeper as it comes from his throat.

Billy starts flexing his shoulders and shifts in place. Seeing the correct reaction, Steve puts more emotion into his cry.

Concern and worry. Unhappiness at how Billy is hurt. Trying to express his need to help the alpha above him.

Billy loosens up considerably, so Steve starts to move. Reaching forward for the third time, he finally reaches his goal as Billy lets him touch with only a slight flinch. Steve murmurs, as he fusses around the wound for a bit. Not doing much yet, just showing his intentions so he doesn’t surprise Billy with anything.

When he is sure Billy doesn’t think he means any harm, he pulls the plaster off more. Not completely, just enough to see the injury beneath.

It is in better shape than he feared. First aid is not Steve’s strong suit, but the wound is only torn up a bit. The bleeding has mostly stopped by now and just needs to be cleaned off. The plaster can properly even be re-applied as it still seems in good enough condition.

Having an overview of the situation, Steve can now get to work.

Continuously letting out sounds, he shifts his tone in warning when he wipes blood particularly close to the wound and soothes when Billy grunts in pain. While he focuses on his task, he instinctually reacts to Billy’s body language, coo’ing and grunting at the right times. Billy takes it all in, though much more quietly. It is mostly how his muscles tenses and relaxes and his loud, heavy breaths that tells Steve how he is doing.

Attaching the plaster back into place, Steve leans back, a satisfied mewl stating a job well done. It isn’t as pretty as yesterday, but the blood has been cleaned away and he doesn't think Billy is dying. Not that he thought Billy was dying before, but now he at least feels more reassured.

Billy does seem to be doing better, leaning more heavily over Steve, eyes half lidded. Everything feels much more relaxed, and if Steve wasn’t getting a cramp in his leg from his awkward position, he wouldn’t mind letting them stay like this.

As it is, the cramp is actually getting really bad, so he once again tries to push himself up.

Billy wakes up, looking unhappy as Steve tries to move away.

Steve now understands better how to handle Billy, so he keeps going. Pushing back, a bit harder to show his point. He growls, until Billy finally moves back.

Back up, Steve can finally stretch out, his back breathing out in relief at not being curled up anymore. Nancy can get her first aid kit later, for now Steve feels drained and needs to rest for a bit.

Like before, when Steve steps forward Billy steps back, and everything is going well until they are back out in the hallway. Then suddenly Billy refuses to move out of the way no matter how close Steve gets.

Steve prepares himself to get a bit harsh and push Billy out of the way, but Billy gets ahead of him.

Suddenly Steve is quite harshly pushed back, as Billy grumble at him. Before Steve can find his footing, Billy is back in his space and pushing again. The third time he reaches out to push, Steve voluntarily steps back.

Now it is Steve's turn to be herded deeper into the house, as he has to keep walking backwards to avoid Billy’s pushes and nudges. Every time he tries to step out of the way, Billy will step over, not letting him move anywhere the other doesn’t want.

This continues until finally Steve leans against a door, unable to go any further. Billy doesn’t push him anymore, but takes up the space around Steve, so he can’t move anywhere.

Breaths mingling, Steve briefly gets lost in Billy’s eyes.

They have always been beautiful, but the animalistic edge to them makes the breath in Steve’s lungs catch, his hands feeling clammy. It feels as if he is prey, having been caged in by the predator, as he is played with before the meal. His neck begins to itch, and as Billy glances at it, he has to cover it up with his hands.

Billy leans closer, but Steve notices him reaching for the handle. It means that he doesn’t fall, when Billy suddenly opens the door, but instead stumbles into the room behind him, turning around.

Steve gasps at what he sees.

He knew they had reached Billy’s room, but the place is a mess. Pillows, blankets, duvets, everything soft, really, has been gathered together. They form a disorganized pile on the bed, while the rest of the furniture has been pushed to the side.

Gaping at the nest Billy has made, Steve is at a loss for words. He has never seen anything like it, as he has never been with an alpha before and therefore couldn’t experience their nesting periods.

He has no idea what to do with this revelation, but Billy isn’t in doubt. For the last time he gives Steve a harsh shove, putting enough force behind it so Steve falls right into the middle of the pile.

Spluttering, Steve digs himself out of covers and sheets, unable to find his footing between all the pillows. He manages to turn around, but Billy has already stepped forward, falling into the soft mass right beside Steve.

For the third time today Steve blushes, unable to stand the implications of laying with an alpha in his nesting pile. He tries to push himself up, but is once again stopped by Billy, who snarls and wraps an arm around him.

Steve grunts in question, but looks over at where Billy is laying. He suddenly notices how tired the other looks. He remembers Max mentioned Billy hadn’t been sleeping well, and with a stressful morning, he clearly needs some rest. Unable to take his eyes off Billy's face, he lays flat, feeling his own body becoming heavy.

Billy snorts in annoyance, and prods at the omega until he curls on his side, both of them facing each other. Satisfied, Billy closes his eyes, which is soon followed by a soft snore.

Steve finds himself letting out a yawn. The nest does feel very cozy, and everything in Steve screams at him to relax and cuddle up to the alpha that has welcomed him into his intimate abode.

Billy is finally fully relaxed and Steve is sleepy. The others are surely doing fine, and none of them are here to judge him anyway if he takes a quick nap.

With this in mind, Steve also closes his eyes, snuggling further into the pile. Billy’s arm around him provides plenty of heat, and it isn’t long before the both of them are gone, deep in slumber.

#HarringroveWeek #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Harringrove #Stranger Things #ST

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 months

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Jessleto + Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

Late-era, vaguely NSFW, also on ao3.

She lives for their little rituals.

As time has passed, Jessica has become more comfortable on display, more confident as a participant in her life not just running damage control against the wall, but she is still… not and never as strong as her partner is in some ways, and to admit such weakness is still painful, and-

Formal events will never be among her favorite things, but the aftermath of these nights makes them worthwhile all the same.

Everything must be over before they can slip away, the night wound down and she could’ve vanished hours earlier but she would’ve done so alone and she’s tried to do that less and less, tried to be better about claiming every bit of her vague position and-

Even now the insecurities, even now the whispers. Every detail must be perfect, every part of her-

It doesn’t matter. Over now. Onto warmer things.

She has never doubted her partner’s adoration since the moment she saw those emotions for what they were, but she is still aware there are different manifestations. Different now, late into the night and together above all else, as opposed to-

Different, she thinks as her partner moves around her, but pleasing all the same.

She catches his hand before he can touch her and brings it to her mouth, placing a few feathery kisses on his skin, something unusually playful about it, something-

“You’re in a mood,” he murmurs, softer than those words usually sound, not accusing just-

“You’re not complaining.”

If they are anything it is this, not knowing who kisses who, cautious yet with the edges softened more than usual, she knows he will taste the wine on her lips just as much as the blood and-

“You could always say no.”

“And deprive myself the want of you?”

“You have never had trouble-“

“Is this not enough?”

From current position she can’t quite see the look in his eyes, but she still knows it, the particular flavor of oh-skies-no that he defaults to in her occasional moments of… not quite self-destruction but-

“Do you truly need to ask that question?”

“I do. We are rarely so…”

She knows how he feels about her, knows it in the little things, how integral she is within his system of loyalty, how tactile they are together, a hundred thousand things unspoken and still-

A little affirmation would not hurt. She is still not quite comfortable in vibrant colors, tonal green silks and enough layers that it will take the both of them to undo her and-

“You do make yourself clear. Near impossible to look away from. Almost makes me wonder what you might be-”

“Wrong colors for that,” she murmurs. Rarely by conscious intent, but she does have her patterns and this is not-

“A clear reminder of where your heart lies is-“

“Does anyone need such reminding? After all I’ve done, do you really think-“

“Must everything be an accusation? Can you not even hear what you ask for?”

“I don’t-“

“Is this not enough?”

Jessica takes half a step back, not quite slipping out of embrace but just enough to look at her partner better, every emotion he balances but worry above all else, protective concern for her and there has always been something so pure about it and-

“More than I know how to respond to,” she breathes. “Even as… consistent as you are, I still-“

“I forget how easily you take things the wrong way.”

Yes, because usually she just bites her lip and goes on with whatever she was otherwise doing, usually she internalizes everything until she suspects her mind is nothing but barely-restrained petty fury and-

“I know you mean well. You would not hurt me with intent.”

He isn’t capable of it, she thinks, she would know, how long they’ve been together, she would know if that were an option but… the worst she ever gets is silence and temporary distance until they both calm down, and a few days of polite avoidance is still kinder than she once expected, and-

Maybe, she thinks sometimes, maybe she should’ve been trained better in how to deflect legitimate unprompted kindness. Clearly no one expected that outcome, and-

The strangling vines of her background do not matter, not right now, not with a clear path for the next few minutes and the both of them still in far too many layers and-

“So, be careful with you,” her partner interprets.

“You usually are.”

At least they’ve outgrown that particular recurring fight, she thinks as he undoes her hair. Only took about a decade for her to figure out that his belief she is more delicate than she is was not a complaint, but eventually an agreement to disagree on that, eventually-

She is adored. She has never been given reason to doubt that. She never will be. They know each other too well for that, and their entwinement only ends in death and even then…

No. She will not think of such things as she takes kisses and undoes jacket closures and tries, tries so hard to stay present in her body. She has learned to let herself want, and she wants, and she-

“If you are…”

“Distracted but aware. I do-“

“Eyes open, alright? Give me that?”

She doesn’t need to, she’d say if she wanted to pick another fight – hasn’t needed to in so long, could do every step of this process with full focus through her hands – but it’s such a little thing to ask for and-

“If I say I am overwhelmed with emotions-“

“That would be a new vulnerability from you and it would worry me.”

“Then I won’t. For you.”

She basically has, but-

No more focusing on the complexities of this heart she still wonders if she was ever supposed to have. Only its manifestation, only the careful practiced movements of two people who are all too familiar with each other, letting herself be in this moment, everything, everything-

What more could she ever need than this? What more is there than her lover’s hands on her, the delight of it all, steady attraction as part of their commitment level, this is-

She is covered, she is undone, she is infinite.

Maybe she has created too much of herself out of this, she thinks sometimes, maybe too good at being a counterpart and not enough effort into anything else, maybe-

Does it matter?

One more existential crisis beneath familiar weight, one more physical encounter she wants but still too much in her mind, one more-

Eyes open, hands wandering, anything she can tether herself to. Her partner is solid and confident and hers, above all else hers, every movement of their hips a reminder that there has been no one else since she-

Jessica shifts focus to make it easier, and her body is as overwhelmed as her mind for a moment, and there is nothing deceptive about using her abilities to feel pleasure a little faster than she would otherwise, and-

Still good. Still good, always. Every time they entwine is a reminder of what she once was and will be. More than this but still this, still-

“You-“

“Senses up. I did enjoy that.”

If desire works a little differently for her than she suspects it does for most people, if she finds connection more interesting than collision… there is no harm in that, not if it gives her this, her partner in afterglow, perfect and hers and-

“I’m never sure with you.”

“Passive is good. Passive means everything feels right and I want you.”

He gives her one of those looks like he will never understand her but he’s made his peace with that enough to go on with their shared life, and-

“You know you are-“

“I do.”

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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itisnotdefended · 2 months

Text

lunch is weird when your dad's a therapist.

I had lunch with my dad today. We have lunch now; 17 year-old me would absolutely balk at the notion, but there you have it. Guess what? I like it. I genuinely enjoy going and grabbing a bite to eat with my dad. We talk about our pasts and childhoods - which might seem strange considering he was there for mine. But was he?

Anyway.

There was a mission behind today’s lunch: there needed to be a discussion about purity culture. I needed to know where my dad was at with it after I’ve battled my way out of a virginity shaped hole in my brain and finally grasped on to some semblance of autonomy and agency in my own life. Turns out? He’s in a much better place now than I could have even hoped. Great news.

However.

Somehow, this segued into me talking about my assault. Odd, out of the blue, and intimate considering we were both choking down burnt ends in a booth at Famous Dave’s. But I am nothing if not obliging, so we spoke about it. I brought up the aftermath; how I had felt split from myself, fully dissociated, seeing myself in the third person. I hadn’t been in control of my words or actions, simultaneously not existing but also running on co-piloting software I didn’t know was installed. When I confessed that I wouldn’t be surprised if I hosted a whole person in my head as a result of a week’s worth of dissociation, he looked at me levelly and said, “I wouldn’t be surprised, either.”

What? Wha- how cou… wow. It kinda took the wind out of my sails a little bit, not gonna lie. I had been jokingly alluding to DID and he just swooped in and validated the sneaky genuine thoughts that had been hiding behind my charade. We had an authentic conversation about my experience wherein he continued to validate my theory that I may have "split a bit." He also encouraged me to write to her. She saved my life when I was going through trauma. I owe her a letter at least.

Dear Protector,

I don’t really remember you, but I remember what happened before you were around. I can’t even say much about that. Sometimes I think about that time and I feel nothing but sadness and grief. I hurt a lot and I remember trying to capture that hurt. I didn’t know how. Looking back, I don’t think I was ever meant to capture the hurt. Why should I have tried so hard to save what you worked so hard for me to not know?

You kept a lot of people at bay, you pushed people away. I look back on that week with you and I realize that may have been the only week when I was completely devoid of all programming. In a strange and roundabout way, you gave me freedom from the cage that had been built around my mind and behaviors. I said what I thought and didn’t mince words, I didn’t tiptoe to protect everyone else because I was the one in need of protecting. Do you still come around? Would you? Not in the same way, I don’t want you to have to work. I would just like for you to drop by, tickle the front of my brain, say hi. I think I pushed you away too hard, but I was scared. I want to be grateful more than scared.

Your work that week saved my life. You did your job so well, my darling, my unruly heart. Thank you for being my shield and my crutch.

Love,

Laura

#unruly heart #mental health #tw: assault #protector #Internal Family Systems #yourfan

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e-dubbc11 · 2 years

Text

Hey Jealousy pt. 2

Gifs aren’t mine

Pairing: Matt Murdock & Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Pretty tame. PG-13. Love triangle sort of, little bit violent, swearing, tiny bit of smexy time, definitely not a 3-way! I can’t even write regular smut let alone throw an extra person in there. The warnings will be the same for all 4 parts even if some aren’t in the other parts (does that make sense?) I don’t fuckin know

Word Count: 2.8k-ish

Summary: Continuation from part 1. The aftermath of your date with Billy Russo and Matt trying to find out more information about your mystery man. Billy stops by your apartment after work, couple of surprises.

A/N: Part 2 of 4. The title is a Gin Blossoms song. It doesn’t follow any particular storyline. As always, comments are always welcome and thank you for reading! I appreciate you! ❤️

Read part 1 HERE

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Matt followed Billy to a parking garage but lost him as soon as he got in his car and drove off.

He then spent the weekend trying to find out something about the mystery man who was spending time with you, he couldn’t do any of that without a name though.

He had heard the name “Billy” when he was listening from the rooftop the night you went out on your date, but no last name.

His jealousy was getting in the way of him thinking straight and left him wondering why? Why did you go out with someone else? Why did you being out with another man make him so anxious and insecure?

Matt couldn’t stand it and you being out with someone else really solidified the fact that even though the two of you hadn’t been together long, he loved talking to you, he loved making you laugh, he loved touching you and kissing you—he just loved…you.

He knew that now but he needed help. Something about this guy didn’t sit well with him but he still needed a name and since you weren’t taking his calls, he called the only person who could possibly help him out.

“Goooooood morning, sunshine! Why are you calling me so early on a Saturday?”

“Foggy, I need your help with something—it’s important.”

Monday’s lunch break was spent in the courthouse’s cafeteria. In between bites of your salad, you were trying to finish going over some notes before going back to the office to type them up. A friendly familiar voice caused you to look up from your papers.

“Hey y/n!! Do you ever stop working?” You wondered if Foggy was ever in a bad mood.

“Good day to you, Mr. Nelson. How goes the battle?” You said as you looked up at him with a warm smile on your face.

“Ah you win some, you lose some, you know how it goes…I’m glad I ran into you though.” His expression turned neutral as he pulled up a chair. “I was wondering what the deal is with you and Matt. I thought the two of you were, ya know, a thing?”

He sounded concerned and your heart fluttered at the mention of Matt’s name.

“I know both of you have been working a lot and haven’t had a chance to see each other in a while but the rumor goin’ around is you met a tall, handsome stranger here the other day and also went out on a date with him.”

When Foggy said that, you were a little surprised but not really because this place was just one giant gossip ring, like any other workplace.

“Oh...you mean Billy?”

“Yeah what’s his last name, I might know him.” Foggy asked with a straight face.

“Russo…Billy Russo.” You answered.

“Yeah ok I don’t know him, anyway—Matt found out about that ya know. He called me over the weekend.”

Your whole body went numb and the light in your eyes disappeared. The light was replaced with guilt. “Was he jealous, Foggy?”

Foggy’s eyes widened and he threw his hands up. “I’d say jealous is the understatement of the year!! His voice was pure rage and I had a hard time calming him down.”

Your fight or flight mode kicked in and your voice was sad but firm. “Yeah well maybe I wouldn’t have gone out on a date with Billy if that court reporter wasn’t all over Matt at Josie’s a couple weeks ago.”

Foggy looked confused. “How do you know about that, you weren’t there?”

Tears burned the back of your eyes “I wanted to surprise Matt and show up for the standing date you all have but when I looked through the window and saw her with her hands all over him, I—I left.”

He moved his chair a little closer to you and rested his hand on top of yours. “Ok, number one she’s had a thing for Matt for a while and just showed up uninvited and number two, you obviously didn’t stick around long enough for Matt to tell her about you.”

He reached into his briefcase to pull out his phone.

“He needs to know about this and it’s just a big misunderstanding—“

You interrupted him “No, no Foggy I don’t want you to tell him, I—I need to do it. I was hurt and angry and I—“ A tear ran down your cheek. “I miss him…I really miss him.”

A tiny smile emerged across your face. “Jeez, all this for a man I haven’t even slept with yet—oops, sorry Foggy, that’s way too much information. I’m sorry.”

He laughed a little and said “He really likes you too, y/n. I’d even go as far as to say he’s already in love with you. He’s been miserable since you stopped taking his calls and quite frankly, he’s been a total grouch monster and Karen and I are tired of dealing with it, that’s why you have to tell him, our sanity depends on it.”

That made you laugh and your tears went away. “Well thank you for telling me all of this, Foggy. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, it just was hard not to.”

“Sooooooo, are you gonna call him? I’m not leaving here until you say yes!” He sounded so excited.

“Yes, I will—later today when I get home from work.”

Foggy was satisfied with your answer, the two of you said your goodbyes and he left, however he didn’t go very far, just far enough away where you couldn’t hear him and called Matt.

“I just want you to know that I felt incredibly dirty asking her all those questions but I got the name you wanted—Billy Russo.”

Matt said “thank you, Foggy.” And he hung up.

Trying to dig up dirt on Billy wasn’t going well—on paper he was clean. His service records, his company, Matt was coming up empty. There had to be something—or did he just want there to be something?

Now you were sitting alone with your thoughts, the two men heavy on your mind. Hopefully Matt would understand when you explain that the reason you went out with Billy was because you thought he was out with someone else but then your thoughts moved on to Billy and how much you liked him too but he needed to know how you feel about Matt.

Before you agreed to go out with Billy, you explained the situation with Matt and you didn’t quite know what was going on and then you heard Billy’s voice in your head “You’d never have to guess what our relationship status is if you were with me.” He’s not wrong, you shouldn’t have to guess and both of you should have talked about it and not kept it inside but it’s too late for that now, you needed to talk to Matt, and soon.

After clocking out for the day, feeling exhausted, you made your way home, and all you wanted was to kick your shoes off and relax with a glass of wine. You had every intention of calling Matt when you got home, however the wine induced nap you had got in the way of that phone call and you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. Hoping it was Matt, you turned the phone over and looked at the screen “Billy Russo” and your stomach dropped, just out of pure nerves but you answered anyway. “Hey Billy, how are you?”

“Well hey there beautiful…I got worried for a minute when you didn’t answer my text.”

You didn’t hear the text notification while you were sleeping. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, I fell asleep after I got home and I didn’t hear my phone.”

You could tell he had a smile on his face. “Well I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop by and say hello, I’m downstairs.”

“Oh you are?” Genuinely surprised, you sat up on the couch and then got up and went to the door. “Ok, well come on up, I’ll buzz you in.”

I guess the phone call to Matt will have to wait.

Billy brought over beer and some food from the bar close to your apartment, they made the best chicken wings. After your first date, he seemed to have picked up that maybe you weren’t a super fancy restaurant kind of girl and you were happy just eating bar food and drinking beer.

You greeted him at the door with a smile and wearing your fuzzy slippers and lounge pants, so embarrassing. He walked through the doorway, kissing your forehead and asking you…”Would you mind holding this stuff for a minute while I take my shoes off?” He’s making himself at home? Or is he just being polite as to not track dirt into your apartment?

Matt hadn’t even been up to your apartment yet and here you were with another man that you’d only been on one date with, what were you doing?!!

But you ignored your inner voice. “Go ahead and have a seat on the couch, I’ll get some plates and glasses.”

He took the food and beer back from you after removing his shoes…”No, no let me help you.”

You apologized for your appearance. “I’m sorry for the way I look, obviously I wasn’t expecting to see anyone after I got home.”

Billy laughed a little—“Don’t apologize, I think you look adorable.”

After finishing a drink, enjoying the food, and asking each other how the day was, you could feel your cheeks getting warm as you asked him—“What made you come over here, Billy?”

“I just wanted to see you, is that wrong?” His voice was low and tender and he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“You did?” You were always so surprised when anyone wanted to actually be around you. Billy was so handsome, your self-esteem wasn’t very high, and you felt like you didn’t quite measure up.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I really like you and want to spend time with you?” He asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Always the skeptic, you still felt the need to say “You weren’t just in the neighborhood though, were you. ANVIL isn’t anywhere close to my apartment and I—“

But he cut you off with his lips brushing against yours, both hands cupping the sides of your face, you closed your eyes and dissolved completely into his kiss. He leaned back onto the arm of the couch, you were on top of him now, allowing his tongue access to your mouth and yours intertwining with his.

Stroking his beard with your thumbs, you could still taste the beer on his soft but firm lips and then shifted your hands from his face to his hair so you could brush your fingers through it. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, into your hair and you went to push his suit jacket off of his shoulders.

What were you doing? What about Matt? The little voice in the back of your head was nagging you but Billy felt so good. His other hand progressed from your cheek to the hem of your shirt and you felt his long slender fingers trace up and down your lower back.

Nervously, you loosened his tie and started to unbutton his dress shirt while his hand traveled from your hair, down your back, and around to the front of your lounge pants. His fingers started to untie them but before he could feel just how wet you were for him, you snapped out of the spell you seemed to be under and felt like you had to come clean.

“Billy…Billy.” You whispered in his ear as his lips went down to your neck and you pulled away from him. “I’m sorry—I need to stop.” He looked completely deflated as you were fighting back tears, you felt awful.

“Billy, I’m sorry but I can’t do this.”

He wasn’t angry, he seemed genuinely concerned, as he caressed your shoulders.

“Ok, ok—can you tell me what’s wrong? Did I move too fast?”

You moved a stray piece of hair away from his face and grazed his beard with your thumb. “Oh no, no, it’s nothing you did. It has everything to do with me, I’m sorry.”

With his long legs still on either side of you, the two of you sat up slowly and he placed one leg on the floor and ran his fingers through his hair and he looked at you through his long thick lashes while you talked.

“Remember that ‘complicated’ relationship I mentioned? Well I’m trying to figure things out with Matt, I feel terrible because I do really like you too. It just wouldn’t be fair to you if we went any further. Please Billy, I never wanted to hurt you.”

He kissed you again, his lips were red from a combination of your leftover lipstick and kissing you furiously but again, he wasn’t angry.

“Hey, it’s ok y/n—really it is. I’m just glad you told me before I fell for you even harder than I already have.” He said through a slight smile.

His words gutted you, the dejected look he had on his face was something that you never thought you’d be the cause of. It wasn’t your intention to hurt him like this, your heart was usually the one getting broken not the other way around.

Before you could say anything else, he got up from the couch, put his suit jacket back on and walked towards the door. While he was putting his shoes on, he told you—“Ya know, a lot of women when they meet me think I’m damaged or broken because of my time in the service or being a foster kid. You gave me a chance, I just wish I could have met you before Matt did. He’s a lucky guy.”

As he said that, he opened your door, turned around to give you one last kiss on the forehead and was ready to take off down the stairs.

“Billy…I really am sorry.”

He smiled, his dark brown eyes stared at you for a minute before he said “I sure hope Matt knows what he has.” And with that, he winked and disappeared down the stairs.

After Billy left, you had a good cry on the couch. But then decided to compose yourself and try and call Matt, not noticing how late it was, he didn’t answer though. While cleaning the kitchen, you couldn’t get either one of them off your mind and after your shower, trying to fall asleep was even more difficult.

The cold night air woke you up, you didn’t remember leaving the window open considering it was October. And it wasn’t just the chilly air that woke you up, it was the crash you heard coming from your living room. You got out of bed with your baseball bat in your hands and tip toed out from your bedroom and there he was, dressed all in black, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen—in your living room.

“I know who you are but what are you doing here?” Before he could answer, and noticing he was holding his chest, you thought you heard the slightest of drip noises. “Are you—bleeding?”

The Devil had a low voice, almost a whisper as he staggered towards you—“yes sweetheart, I need your help.”

“Sweetheart?” That tone was so familiar—“Matt?!!! Oh no, you’re hurt!! What happened?!!”

His breathing was heavy when he collapsed on to the floor—“Your boyfriend—he cut me, he got me pretty good too. AH!”

“Boyfriend? Were you spying on me?!! Matty what are you talking about?” There was panic and slight anger in your voice as you fell on your knees beside him.

“Russo—I followed him—he must have sensed I was tailing him because he ducked into a warehouse after he left your place and he got the jump on me, I don’t know how but he did.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and seeing right now. “Ok he’s not my boyfriend, first of all and what did he stab you with!?” You thought about it for a second, how did he know Billy’s name? Foggy said the rumor was I had a date but no mention of a name—Dammit, Foggy told him! You’ll have to worry about that later.

“I didn’t notice any kind of weapon on him when he was here earlier. I don’t understand, Matt!”

His breathing became labored and he had a hard time spitting words out. “It came out of no--nowhere, from under--underneath his sleeves, he must have hid it in his--his outside coat. He’s not the person you think he is, sweetheart.” And that was the last thing Matt said before he passed out.

Tag List: @freshabogados @skvatnavle @phoebe-danvers @moonlarking @shedaresthedevil @mindidjarin @matt-erialgirl @nelson-et-murdock @elgrandeavocados @carters-things @myguiltypleasures21 @saintmurd0ck

Others that might enjoy: @1800-fight-me @sobachka-korol @mattmurdockspainkink @wint3r-h3art

Please please tell me if you’d like to be added or removed from either list.

#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #matt murdock x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader

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fixationstation · 2 years

Text

Let Go of Your Umbrella

Part one: Coffee and Apologies

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader

Word count: 1900

Summary: You’ve worked as a secretary for Stark Industries- and later the Avengers- for years. After everyone came back after five years, the world’s a mess and half of your family is gone. You’re not the only one dealing with the aftermath, and despite your better judgement, you’re dragged along with someone else who’s trying to move on. You don’t know it yet, but you’re the sunshine to his cloudy day.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

You took the smallest step away from the man who was standing entirely too close and trying to make small talk. Despite the curt answers you gave back, he was certainly not getting the hint. The last thing you wanted was someone trying to chat you up while you waited for breakfast orders.

Sure, maybe you were used to the wait, but usually the company you took with to help carry things was a bit more… well, it was usually Peter that went with you. Today, it seemed like everyone collectively agreed that it was Bucky’s turn to go with you. Apparently, he had been dodging everyone’s calls, so running errands with you was his comeuppance. To be completely honest, you weren’t sure why he agreed.

You had absolutely nothing against Bucky despite the fiasco that had been the Sokovia Accords. In fact, the two of you got along well when he wasn’t avoiding talking to everyone… even though most of your conversations were just in passing, and you could count the number you’d had on one hand. To a degree, you certainly understood why he kept to himself, and you couldn’t say you blamed him for waiting outside of the coffee shop while you ordered.

But you were starting to regret not having someone nearby to give you an excuse to avoid the man.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when an arm fell around your waist. You blinked over at the familiar face, though his gaze was set on the man. You noted that the metal arm still rested at his side.

"This guy bothering you, babydoll?"...babydoll? You were not, nor had you ever dated Bucky Barnes. Your gaze flickered between Bucky and the man before the metaphorical light bulb went off in your head.

"Oh! James, my darling dearest! I thought you were waiting back home," you laid it on thick, both to mess with him and so that the stranger could get the hint.

The man wasn't able to get much of a word in edgewise as you practically swooned.

Bucky was trying very hard not to smirk at your little display despite the fact that he seemed to be on high alert, "what, and leave my best girl to pick up lunch by herself?" He leaned over a bit to whisper to you, “you okay?”

You smiled and giggled as if he'd said something completely different, "oh, absolutely. Thank you.”

"Glad I stopped by anyways," he pointedly glared at the man before smiling at you once more.

The stranger grumbled a bit, but stepped away to wait for his food at the other side of the restaurant while you grabbed the food as soon as it was set on the counter for you.

"Well, thank you, honey bunch." You had to bite your lip to stop from bursting into laughter as you dropped a tip in the jar and handed half of the drinks off to him.

"Of course. Any time, shnookums. Do you mind if I walk you home?" He was already leading out of the building with his arm still firmly around your waist.

"Oh, be still my beating heart," you chuckled before quietly adding, "chivalry isn't dead, it was just frozen for seventy years."

At your comment, he gave a little surprised laugh. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of the accomplishment.

“You know, you’re not so bad,” he smiled over at you. Though it was a bit tense and unsure, you were positive that he had been quite the charmer back in the day.

“I’m everyone’s favorite paperwork jockey for a reason,” you mused back.

“I didn’t know you were still doing paperwork for the Avengers.”

That gave you a pause. You weren’t. Really, you were just a glorified errand runner for anyone that needed you to be. The whole ‘Avengers’ thing had been complicated since…. Well, since you lost three of your employers and the compound that housed the team.

You couldn’t help the little scoff, “you still wouldn’t believe all the nonsense I have to do for you guys. I’m holding things together with glitter glue and popsicle sticks here.”

You grinned and shook your head before continuing, “Scott couldn’t make a comprehensive grocery list for shit. And do you know how complicated some of your café orders are? Venti 8 shot, 1 pump mocha, nonfat, no whip, with exactly 4 shakes of cinnamon stirred in. And that’s what Strange asks for every time.”

“…What language is that?”

“I don’t know, but I always feel bad for the poor barista that has to make it.” You shook your head and glanced over at him. “What about you?”

He met your gaze for a moment before looking ahead again. “Me?”

“Yes you, darling dearest,” you joked, “you never ask me to get anything for you.”

He went quiet, his shoulders tensing back a bit. You got the sneaking suspicion that you weren’t going to get an answer.

Naturally, you continued to pry, “it’s… my job to do that, you know. Being the pass-around personal assistant has been my job for years, and I’d like to think I’m good at it. Besides, most of you guys can’t really just… wander the streets without getting stopped. That’s why I usually take the kid with me.”

Bucky just hummed in reply, and you found yourself going quiet. If he decided to wall himself up again, it probably wasn’t wise to keep pushing him. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky Barnes to dislike you- not because you were afraid of him by any means, but because you wanted him to be your friend. He could use more of those.

“Hey,” you tried again after a few minutes of walking, “thanks, by the way. For, um… helping me out back there. That was some quick thinking.”

“You looked uncomfortable,” he supplied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ah, so you were watching me, huh?” Not that it surprised you. The guy had a major staring problem.

“Yes.” He seemed to have a brief realization, because he quickly continued to backpedal, “in a very professional way. Strictly work related. I thought I was supposed to go with you to keep an eye out.”

You raised a brow and nodded, “right. By watching me from outside, through a window. Totally normal.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“What? No, I would never,” your smile said otherwise.

“You’re a punk,” he huffed over at you.

“I thought I was your babydoll,” you continued on, “cute pet name, by the way.”

“…I’m done talking to you now.” Was he blushing?

You never thought you’d see the day that Bucky would blush and refuse to look over at you. Mister closed off and stoic had cracked, and you were determined to chip away. Normally, you were just as quiet as he was, but now you were on a mission.

You laughed softly and smiled over at him. “Darn. I guess I won’t be able to tell you that I picked you up a cinnamon roll, then. You never tell me what you want, but I figured that most people like cinnamon rolls unless they’re allergic to cinnamon… you’re not allergic to cinnamon, are you?”

“No,” he answered bluntly.

“No? No you’re not allergic, or no you don’t want it?”

Bucky finally looked back over at you again, “I’m not allergic. Thanks.”

You practically beamed back at him. It was certainly a step in the right direction, and you’d take as many of those as you could get. Even if the two of you fell back into silence, you’d count that as a win.

“…you were there.”

“Huh?” You were quick to blink over at him when his comment pulled you out of your thoughts.

“In Berlin. You were there with Stark when…” he trailed off.

“Oh. That. I… I was, yeah.”Sure, maybe you’d been terrified for your life for a minute, but you knew it hadn’t been him. You didn’t agree with the way Steve had gone about it, but you’d believed him from the very start.

He sighed a bit and shook his head, muttering softly to himself. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” And then louder to you he added very awkwardly in a way that you were sure was practiced, “I am no longer the Winter Soldier. My name is James Bucky Barnes, and you’re part of my efforts to make amends.”

Your expression scrunched up a bit, “you don’t have to do that. There’s nothing to amend with me, and I already knew your name.”

“…you’re wrong. You got hurt.”

“I got a few bruises,” you assured him, “It was nothing-“

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I remember the look you gave me. I hurt you, and you were terrified.”

You stopped walking. He wasn’t… entirely wrong, but that wasn’t quite what had happened.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you muttered. “Was I afraid of the situation? Absolutely. You said it yourself, though. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I almost threw you down a stairwell,” his voice was strained.

You shifted your weight between your feet before you continued walking. Even if it was water under the bridge to you, you understood. You also figured that the two of you could argue about it in circles for hours, and he wouldn’t budge.

“Alright. Fine. Tell you what, if I get to ask you a question that you have to answer honestly, I’ll consider us even. But it has to be a ‘nothing’s off the table’ type question.”

He narrowed his gaze at you, staring quietly for a long moment. You wished you knew what was running through that pretty head of his, even though you were sure it wasn’t entirely pleasant.

“…fine. Deal.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “oh, good. See, I’ve been wondering something, but it felt a bit too personal to ask, especially since we’ve only talked a few times and-“

“Just ask the damn question.”

“Can you feel things with the metal arm? Because, I mean, you’ve done some crazy stuff with it that I’ve kind of been assuming you don’t feel- or at least I hope you don’t. But I saw you test to see if a tomato was ripe with it once, and considering the fact that it didn’t explode, I’ve been wondering ever since.”

He blinked at your rambling train of thought, slowly letting it process. There were a few times that he looked like he was about to speak, only to stop himself and shake his head.

“You want to know… if I can feel things with my left hand.” He slowly reiterated, as if he had been expecting you to ask something much worse.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

“Well… kind of? I can’t really feel things like textures or pain in the arm itself, but most of the time it feels like I do. I don’t… actually know all of the technical crap. Sometimes when I should be hurt on my arm I think I feel pain, even though I don’t. I’ve just had it for long enough that I can… safely figure out how to be delicate with it. Most of the time.”

You nodded slowly, “so… phantom feelings and a hell of a lot of practice,” you summarized.

He hummed in confirmation. Content with that, you nodded and turned forward again to finish off your errands with a bit of pep in your step.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #winter solider x reader #post endgame #pre tfatws for now #marvel #tfatws #slight canon divergence

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babyjakes · 2 years

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forever and a day | 31. betrayal.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

“Mornin’, Cap,” Clint greets as I step off the elevator into the common space of the fiftieth floor, startling me enough to make me jump. On a typical morning when I come home from my early-morning runs, no one else is awake. Glancing at my watch, I see that it’s just about 7:00, which is a little bit later than when I usually return. Even still, Clint’s never been an early riser.

“What’re you doing up this early?” I ask as I join him in the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

“I’m not sure. Guess I didn’t sleep too great,” the archer admits as I take a few sips from my glass.

“Anyone else up?” I question. He takes a bite of the apple in his hand and shakes his head.

“Nope. Pretty sure everyone’s asleep. Except for Tony; he’s down in his lab. But what’s new, I suppose.” I nod, understanding. It isn’t unusual for Tony to spend all night down working on his gadgets. The rest of us know it’s probably not good for him, but we also know that there’s no stopping him. He’s just wired that way. And as long as it’s not hurting anyone else, we keep quiet about it.

“I’m gonna go see if Willa’s up,” I decide, finishing what’s left in my glass before placing it in the sink and looking out through the window onto the balcony. It seems like a nice day out; maybe it would be a good idea to take Willa outside later. We could go to the park or something. I’ve been meaning to get her out and about more lately, since Bruce says the sunshine’s good for her.

“Hey, have you thought any more about the Accords?” Clint asks just as I’m about to leave the kitchen. I pause, turning back to face him. A serious look has formed on his face.

“I think I’ve made up my mind. As much as it’s going to complicate things, I can’t sign. It just doesn’t feel right,” I assert.

“I’m with you,” the man nods. “And it’s not just us. After you left last night, the conversation went on for quite some time. Bucky’s against it. Sam, too. Even Wanda, though I think she feels a lot of pressure coming from Tony.”

“She’s just a kid,” I sigh as I shake my head. “I don’t know why she has to be involved in this. Peter, too. And what? Are they going to want Willa to sign, because of her powers?”

“That… wasn’t discussed,” Clint replies slowly. “Maybe you’d have to sign on her behalf. Vienna’s in three days; I don’t know how it’ll look if half of us don’t show up. Or, if we all show up, but only half of us will sign.”

“I guess we’ll see,” I shrug, earning a nod from my friend. Not knowing what else could be said about the situation, I turn to leave the kitchen without another word, heading to the bedrooms.

As I walk towards the end of the hall, all of the doors are closed except for mine, Clint’s, and Tony’s. Stopping in front of Willa’s door, I knock lightly before turning the knob and swinging it open. When I step inside, the sight I’m met with causes my stomach to drop.

Willa’s bed is empty.

I glance around the room frantically, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Quickly making my way over to the bathroom door, I push it open. It’s vacant as well. The light is off, but the sunlight coming in from the window by the sink illuminates the room enough for me to see that I’m completely alone. Willa is gone.

Turning around, I make my way back through the bedroom and out into the hallway, double-checking every room again as I pass it to make sure that there are no lights on shining through from underneath the doors. Everyone is asleep. She couldn’t be playing with Wanda, or watching movies with Peter. Which means… she’s not on the fiftieth floor at all.

As I enter back into the living space, my heart pounds heavily in my chest, ringing all the way up through my ears. Clint glances up at me from the newspaper he’s begun to read, immediately seeing the look of panic on my face. “She’s gone,” I mutter breathlessly. “Willa’s gone.”

“She’s not in her room?” Clint asks, concern growing on his face. I shake my head, walking over to the elevator and hitting the button.

“I’m gonna go ask Stark if he’s seen her,” I tell him. “Vision’s probably down there with him. Maybe he can scan the building or something.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” the worried man asks, setting his newspaper down on the counter.

“That’s okay. I’ll text you if I need any help,” I decline. Clint nods.

Soon, the elevator arrives, and I step in, hitting the button for L45. The ride down only takes a few moments before the doors open again to the hallway outside of Tony’s lab. This is a floor I rarely visit, as I really have no reason to. The training facilities are much more useful to me; all this strange, futuristic technology is Tony’s domain.

The walls of the hall are made of glass, making it possible to see right into the scientist’s workspace. I walk over to the large glass door and look in to see the man standing in front of some sort of table, tapping a monitor hanging on the wall. My breath catches in my throat when I see two little feet squirming at the end of the surface Tony is blocking, appearing to be restrained at the ankles.

“Alright kid, looks like you did it. I can’t believe I just snapped my wrist in half for the sake of science, but luckily you pulled through on your end of the bargain,” I hear Tony chattering casually as I burst through the door loudly, causing him to look up in alarm.

“What the hell is going on in here?” I demand harshly. Taking a few more steps forward, I’m now able to get a better view of the setup before me. Willa is strapped down by her arms and legs to a metal table, a thin pillow supporting her head. Tony has her hooked up to several wires that are all connected to the monitor he’s working with; it seems to show her heartbeat, along with a few other measurements that I can’t identify.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tony says lowly, taking a step towards me, away from the child. I can hear her whimpering, though softly, and it sends anger shooting up through my veins, collecting in my fists as they curl dangerously tight.

“Neither should she,” I retort, nodding at Willa. “What are you doing to her? Why is she wired up like that? What is she- oh god, Tony- she’s crying,” I seethe, my heart breaking as I watch tears trail down the little girl’s cheeks, dripping onto the cold metal beneath her.

“I’m doing the research you weren’t willing to do,” Tony spits, his eyes narrowed in anger. “She’s an enhanced individual, Cap. It’s not my suits, it’s not even the super-soldier serum; this is something completely foreign. And we gotta know what it is, how it works.”

“This isn’t the way to find out,” I disagree, shaking my head. “We promised her we wouldn’t do this!”

“No, you promised her,” he corrects. “I, on the other hand, am being responsible and finding out exactly what we’re dealing with here. It’s not just me who wants to know. I’m going before a UN panel in three days and giving them detailed reports on each of us, and the kid’s a complete wildcard. That’s not gonna sit well with anyone in Vienna.”

I take another few steps forward, now only feet away from the table. “What are you doing to her?” I ask, my voice now quiet, almost a whisper. “Why is she tied down? Why is she crying?” Willa whimpers as I draw nearer, her watery eyes so full of fear and despair.

“I’m finding out more about her healing capabilities. The reports were right; she can heal seemingly anything. I just cracked my wrist straight down the middle with a vice. All I had to do was lay a hand on her and it patched up immediately.” The anger in my stomach rises into my throat, and I let out a scalding-hot breath, turning to Tony. I’m nearly shaking in rage.

“You shifted her?”

“Well, yeah. It took a little while to figure out how, but it turns out when you inject her with-”

“For the love of god, Tony, you know she takes on the pain of whatever she heals!” I explode, the edges of my vision blurring to red. Willa lets out a frightened cry at my sudden outburst, and at the simple sound of the sobbing child’s whimper, it’s as if a switch is flipped in my brain; all anger is shoved back down my throat as my paternal instincts take over.

Turning to the table, I step up to the sniffling girl, beginning to release her from her restraints. Starting at her ankles, I carefully undo the nylon bonds, murmuring softly to the poor thing as she quakes in fear. “Shhh, it’s alright,” I hum. “Gonna get you out of here, Willa-bug. No more, sweetheart. All done, it’s all done, I promise.”

Tony reaches out to stop me, but I glare at him, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Another move, and I’ll call Child Services, right here, right now. Human experimentation will be more than valid grounds for your parental rights to be removed,” I threaten.

The scientist huffs in anger, but retracts his hand, crossing his arms and turning away. Now that I’ve caught him, he knows he’s lost. Clearly, he was counting on me not finding out.

As I finish undoing the final strap on Willa’s arm, I glance over the wires connected to her arm. Most of them are just secured by adhesive tabs. Only one appears to be a catheter breaching her skin. Looking around, I spot a roll of medical tape and cotton balls on a tray not too far from Tony. I grab the materials and tear off a piece of tape, forming a make-shift bandage before turning back to Willa.

Sobbing quietly to herself, the child rolls slightly on her side and curls into a ball as I approach her, her bright green eyes wide with fear. “Please, n-no more,” she begs, scooting herself as far away from me as she can.

“Shh doll, it’s okay. You’re okay, sweetheart. It’s me; it’s just Steve,” I ease gently, holding out the bandage and reaching for her arm. Willa flinches back, cradling it away from me warily. With a closer look, I see that the wrist on that arm has turned a deep mix of blue and purple, signifying the pain she’s been dealt from Tony’s trial.

“N-no touch, h-hurts, please,” the girl begs, trembling against the cold metal table.

“I just wanna take the needle out, okay? You can unshift then; I promise I won’t hurt you.” Tony sighs from beside me in annoyance, but I ignore him, too focused on Willa to care about his attitude.

“For fuck’s sake, Cap, you’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep treating her like a toddler,” the man groans, turning and ripping the tube out of the child’s arm with little care. Willa cries out in pain, and Tony snatches the bandage from my hand before I can stop him, slapping it down against her arm. He pulls away at the other tubes and they all disconnect from their tabs without much resistance.

“Back up,” I order firmly, not wanting him to lay another finger on my Willa. Tony rolls his eyes but luckily obliges as I step in between him and the little girl, not wanting him to cause any more damage than he already has.

Willa peers up at me, her hurt and betrayal written all over her face. When I reach out my arms to pick her up, she shrinks back, her bottom lip sticking out and quivering, signaling a whole new round of tears is on its way. “Please n-no, don’t hurt me,” she whimpers.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’m just gonna get you out of here. It’s alright, I don’t have any injuries on me; it won’t hurt when I touch you,” I assure her, though I know it’s probably doing little to ease her fears. “I’m gonna pick you up now, Willa. It’s okay, nothing’s gonna hurt.” As gently as I can, I wrap my arms around the shaking girl, pulling her in close to me and rubbing her back soothingly in hopes of calming her down. She tenses up as my skin makes contact with hers, letting out a frightened whine. “You’re okay, see?” I coo, bouncing her slightly in my arms. “No hurt.”

“N-no hurt, please,” she hiccups back. I smile sadly at her with a nod, brushing her hair back out of her face.

Turning back to Tony, my expression returns to serious as I inform him, “This is never happening again.”

“Whatever. Son of a bitch,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he walks back over to his desk, making himself seem too occupied to care.

I sigh, looking down at the little girl in my arms. “Let’s get you out of here, Willa-bug,” I murmur, holding her close to me as I walk back over to the glass door. A part of me expects Tony to come after us as I push the door open, stepping through it, but he doesn’t, and I’m relieved. I don’t have any more energy to put up with his behavior. He’s gone way too far. If he pushed me any more, I honestly don’t know what I would do.

Out in the hallway, we wait for the elevator after I’ve pushed the button. Within a few moments, it arrives, and I step in, hitting the button for the fiftieth level.

“Does your wrist still hurt?” I ask softly as the elevator rises. Willa nods, cradling her arm close to her as she hides her head away in the crook of my neck.

“Please, d-don’t touch it; don’t hurt me, p-please,” she begs.

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay, I won’t touch it,” I soothe quietly, bouncing the small child slightly on my hip. When we arrive on the top floor, the doors in front of us slide open to reveal an empty common space; Clint must’ve gone somewhere, maybe back to bed. Walking Willa over to the couches, I sit down in an armchair, resting the girl down on my lap. “Willa, honey… how long were you with Tony?” I ask carefully, brushing her hair back out of her face.

“D-don’t r'member,” she replies quietly. “He woke me up and- and took me there. Didn’t know where y-you were- was s-so scared,” she whimpers.

“Oh Willa,” I sigh, my heart aching as I plant a kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay, honey. I’m here now; I won’t ever let him do that to you again, okay?” Willa looks up at me with wide eyes, and in this moment it becomes clear to me just how devastating it was that I wasn’t there, that I didn’t protect her.

“B-begged for you,” the child mumbles. “He said- s-said you were s'eeping.”

“Willa, oh- sweetheart,” I choke through tears, cradling the girl’s cheek in a shaking hand as she looks up at me with tear-filled eyes. “Willa, baby, I- I’m so sorry,” my voice cracks. “If I knew what he was doing, I- I would’ve stopped him, Willa, I swear. No matter what, even in the middle of the night, I would’ve come. I would’ve saved you.” Willa clings to me with her undamaged arm, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. I wipe it away gently with my thumb, holding her close to me. “I never thought he would do something like this. But now I know, sweetheart. And I won’t let him hurt you again, okay? I promise; I pinky promise.”

I reach my pinky out to her hopefully, my heart swelling when she links her own with mine.

“Can I see your wrist, doll? I promise I won’t hurt it,” I try. The girl pulls her shaking arm to her body tightly, a look of uncertainty washing over her soft features.

“No, d-don’t hurt me,” she pleads.

Sighing, I don’t push her on it. “Okay. Okay, doll. That’s okay, I’ll leave it alone,” I concede.

As the small child sits quietly on my lap, I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself enough to think of what I should do next. After several minutes of contemplating, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, dialing Bruce’s number and hitting ‘call.’

It rings two or three times before he answers, sounding tired. “Yeah, Cap?”

“Hey, sorry to wake you. I need- I need you to come out here. We have a call to make.”

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piercethewon · 1 year

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⚔️Kingslayer.

4 — The caged pigeon. || wc: 2,8k.

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—Are you completely sure that you can trust that Sunghoon person? You don’t even know him— your brother asked as he scattered more pumpkin breadcrumbs on the grass for the pigeons to eat. It was the day after king Lee’s funeral, and Sunoo had practically dragged you to accompany him to sit on his favorite bench under a big oak tree to hear your explanation as to why prince Riki and you had abandoned the church hall during prayer.

You mindlessly swung your feet, looking at a particularly small pigeon that stared at the bigger ones as they ate all the bread —Riki told me that Sunghoon is a trustable young man and that he would make sure that no one suspects us—. It was true, and you were more than glad that the prince offered to take full responsibility for the aftermath of your little escapade; it had been his idea, after all. You watched as the little pigeon tried to approach the others to take a bite of the pumpkin-flavored treat, but everything was gone before it could even make its way through the bigger birds; you could relate so much to its helplessness.

Sunoo clicked his tongue, a gesture you interpreted as him not believing a word of what you were saying —Oh, really? And how exactly is he planning to do that?—. Your silence gave away that you had no idea how to answer his question —Sister… I said this before, and I stand by my word: you need to be more careful about your image now. What would the other royal families think if they found out you and Riki were alone by yourselves?—.

—But we were not alone! The entire town was gathered at the plaza!— you said, almost regretting raising your voice at him, but he was getting on your nerves with his implications, because just as Riki had said that one night, it is not as if both of you kissed or did anything imprudent, it was just an innocent walk around the city… why was it so hard for your brother to understand? —Also, you know how fast rumors spread between the townspeople, if anyone had found it weird or suspected that something was going on between the prince and me, we would have found out through our servants by now!—.

—Sister…— he watched as you stood up the bench, scaring the pigeons away in the process.

—Listen, brother…— you cut him off, not being in the mood for getting scolded again —Just because you are a coward, too afraid of popular opinion to turn down your royal duties just this once and follow your heart to pursue that girl from the market, does not mean that I, too, am scared of spending time with the person I like…— you were not meant to say the last part out loud, but the damage was done now and Sunoo opened his mouth in disbelief at your sudden confession.

You stared at each other for a few seconds before your brother cleared his throat —Just… do not let anyone find out how you got that ring— he pointed with his chin at the silver piece with the pink crystal that reflected the sunlight with a lovely glow.

—Is that all you are going to say?— you watched with disappointment painting your face as he stood up from the bench and used his hands to shake off a few crumbs that had fallen on his black pants; at least the small pigeon could finally eat some pumpkin bread.

Sunoo smiled at you, but not enough to make his cheekbones rise —What else am I supposed to say, sister? You are right, I’m a complete coward. I’m glad, and a little jealous, that the person you are supposed to get married to seems to be of your liking.— he bowed his head slightly —Sorry for bothering you again. I hope everything goes well between you two—. His smile was not enough now to mask the sadness that flooded his eyes.

You held his hand in yours in an attempt to comfort him, but his expression gave away how he was long drowned in sorrow —Brother, it is not too late yet, you can still talk to our father— you squeezed him gently —you will never know if something possible until you try your best to make it happen…—.

—Y/N…— were those tears forming at the corners of his eyes? —I told her already, about my wedding… that was the last time I will ever see her— you could not believe your ears, why was he giving up so easily?

The arrival of one of the king’s messengers suddenly interrupted the sibling talk. Sunoo quickly dried his eyes and you stared at the man with alarms ringing in your head; were you speaking too soon earlier? Had your father found out about what took place yesterday? The servant bowed and took a moment to catch his breath, oh, it was an urgent message. —My princess, the heir of the Nishimura family is here— again? Was he not planning on letting you breathe? —He showed in front of the king to plead for some of your time, and our majesty agreed— pffft, of course he did —So prince Riki is now waiting for you at the gardens!—

You tilted your head in confusion —…But we are already at the gardens?— you glanced behind the man with narrowed eyes and spotted a silhouette waving at you from far away. A heavy sigh left your lips as you excused yourself and walked towards the prince with a speeded pace, wondering if he had bad news for you; your only hope was that queen Nishimura had not grounded him yet, so it must not be a serious matter.

Four servants bowed upon your arrival at the meeting place, immediately gesturing for you to take a seat on… a pink blanket? and offering you something to drink from an overwhelming variety of options. You politely declined and watched with a puzzled expression at the boy that was sitting before you, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, pinky stretched and everything; however, the moment your servants walked a few meters of distance and faced in the opposite direction to give both of you some privacy, he unceremoniously gulped the rest of the hot beverage in one go and let out a satisfied sigh, the corners of his lips were wet with remains of tea. —Sorry, it’s hard to keep these manners for too long—.

You snorted and offered him a tissue to clean his mouth before he attempted to use his sleeve —Don’t worry, I feel the same— he arched his eyebrows at your sudden confession —sometimes they feel too excessive—. You recalled all those times when your brother would scold you for using the wrong fork to eat salad, a smile appearing on your face at the fond memory.

—Why are you here? And why did you prepare all this?— you gestured vaguely at the improvised picnic, your mouth watering at the sight of strawberry jam sandwiches, green grapes that were especially peeled for you, blueberry and oat muffins, and some other delicacies.

Riki followed your gaze —I didn’t do it though, your father ordered the workers to serve us food as soon as I asked him to see you— so that explains why all of your favorite foods were here, although your heart had danced a little inside your chest at the thought of the prince being behind the small feast. —And as for my reason to visit you, is it not obvious?— his eyes landed on the ring that adorned your finger, making a smile appear on his face —I want to spend as much time as I can with you before, you know…— it seems like, even for him, it was hard to say it out loud.

—The muffins are really tasty, our chef makes them with brown sugar— you mumbled as you grabbed one of them, changing the subject. That is the exact moment when you realized that you were not the only one whose future had been decided by someone else, and the prince might feel as complicated about the arrangement as you, but you were so absorbed in your own complaints to realize that, at the end of the day, you had to work together to make it through this one; even though Riki had been the only one to put an effort to get close to you.

The prince chose a sandwich and eyed you in wonder, as it was difficult for him to guess what was going on inside your mind. —Y/N— he called, popping the imaginary bubble that had engulfed you along with your idea —Are you always this guarded by your servants?— he finally asked in a whisper, trying not to arise suspicion from the four people that stood a few meters away, awaiting your requests.

You shrugged —They are just doing their job— you filled a cup with green tea and took a sip, gazing at the workers —Do you think it’s boring for them?—.

Riki shook his head —I’m not asking for them, I’m asking for you— he gave you his usual face of exasperation after realizing that you were not quite getting what he was trying to say —I mean, are you not tired of having no privacy?— he reached out to grab his fourth sandwich yet, you wondered how much food was needed to satiate such a tall and hyperactive body.

You simply shrugged again, very responsive on your part —It’s not as if I had the option to ask them to leave us alone, they only follow father’s orders— you sipped on your tea; it was starting to leave a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. —Also, they are not bothering us, why do you care so much?—.

A mischievous smirk made its way to Riki’s face, suddenly making you feel uneasy; was he planning to get you in trouble again? —And what if I wanted to kiss you? Wouldn’t you rather have a little more privacy then?—. Oh, so that’s what he was trying to do: break the rules once more.

You almost dropped your cup in astonishment, praying to whoever was willing to listen so that none of the servants had caught on the prince’s scandalous proposal. —Even if you wanted to kiss me, it would still happen with them being present…— you mumbled against your cup. Your hands were visibly shaking, ruining your chances to play cool.

Riki moved a little closer, effectively making you drop the now empty cup on the blanket —Are you sure?— you nodded, breath hitching when he closed the distance even more —Wouldn’t it make you try to convince them to leave and test the limits of your authority? Who knows… you may have more power here than you realize—. Now, that was a little suspicious; it was obvious that his real intention was not kissing you, he was trying to get a certain reaction from you, but what was it? Why was he so obsessed with the idea of you breaking the rules?

You carefully pondered over his words and finally cleared your throat, alerting the servants —You are free to go now, prince Riki and I have an important matter to discuss, and we need some privacy…— your voice was getting softer with every word as you started to lose confidence halfway through the sentence, but surprisingly enough, your servants bowed politely and headed back inside the castle. You watched with your mouth hanging open as their silhouettes shrank until they reached a small door. If you were your father, there would have not been reason to make up excuses, but it still surprised you just how easy it had been to convince them.

—See? I told you— you heard Riki’s voice right beside you, making goosebumps bloom all over your neck and arms, at this point, it is not even worth mentioning how hot your ears and cheeks felt to the touch —I can’t believe you just risked everything because you wanted me to kiss you, I had no idea you were this impatient— he teased between giggles, earning a smack on his forearm that made him yelp in pain.

—You know damn well that you were not even trying to do it! You just wanted me to get rid of the servants!— you tried, in vain, to defend yourself, but the prince could practically feel your stare on his lips.

—Wait… are my ears deceiving me? Or did the princess just swear?— he said in an annoyingly over-dramatic tone, covering his mouth with one of his hands and pointing an accusatory finger at you with the other. You huffed and raised your hand again, dangerously close to his arm, making him flinch —Fine, I get it! I apologize!—.

You frowned at him and crossed your arms —I can’t believe I did all that for nothing— it was not until you saw the corner of his lips rise in a smile that you realized the implications of your words, turning you yet again into a flustered mess —It’s not what you’re thinking!— or was it…? How confusing!

On his part, Riki was having the time of his life teasing you, enjoying every second of the shyness you were exhibiting, only for him. The prince used his fingers to gently hold your chin up, making your shaky eyes land back on his unreadable ones —I will give you one more chance— he said, his breath fanning over your face, sending tingles all over your skin —Do you want to kiss me?—.

You were starting to feel small under his intense gaze, but you managed to answer in a faint whisper, eyes gleaming with anticipation —Yes, please—. You thought that you would kiss him sooner or later anyway, so did it really matter whether you did it now rather than waiting for the wedding? And given his reaction, it seems like Riki felt the same way as you; there was nothing stopping you from tasting his pinkish lips. But those never made it to yours, instead, you felt the prince’s finger brush over your nose, painting it with… strawberry jam?! —Hey! I thought you were done playing with my heart like this!— you complained after a whine of disappointment left you, using a tissue to clean your face as the boy’s lively laugh rang in your ears.

It took a moment for him to calm his laughter, and for you to calm your heartbeat, then you were staring at each other again, at a safer distance this time. —Y/N, listen— he finally spoke, making you frown at him for the nth time this evening; if you ever got early wrinkles on your face, you would totally blame them on him, Sunoo, and the stupid “Manners for Ladies” manual, the one shaped like a brick —I like you, I really do, but I still get the feeling that everything is going too fast for you— well, at least someone understood your situation, which made the weight on your shoulders lighten a little.

—Did you just call me slow?— you knew it was far from his intentions, but you were getting a little tired of always being the one on the receiving end of his teasing.

Riki shook his head and then did something completely unexpected, or at least for you: he kissed your cheek; so gently and delicately that you almost missed the feeling of his plump lips on your burning skin, he held your hands in his afterward, using one of his thumbs to play with your ring. —I’m being serious right now, princess, let’s take it slow from now, okay? We’ll have plenty of time after the ceremony to act like responsible adults, so let’s just enjoy life for the next months, yeah?—.

The way he worded his sentence made it sound like everything that could come after you both exchanged bows would feel miserable for him, and of course, your mouth had to act faster than your brain —Riki, how do you feel about the arrangement?— you seriously had to work on this habit of yours.

The prince chuckled, not expecting you to take account of his opinion regardless of your set-in-stone fate —I will be more than honored to have you as my queen, Y/N— he kissed your cheek once more to emphasize his sincerity, and with that, he stood up and left you alone with your racing thoughts again, not without grabbing another strawberry jam sandwich for the way back.

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