#but shaving him was oddly soothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stuckysbike · 1 year

Text

The Queen Who Married Two Kings 3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve (pre-established Stucky)

Arranged Marriage AU, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU

Rating/Warnings: Over 18's only, there will be dark themes and explicit sexual situations. Reader is Stark born, and they're shitty to her. Drama, confusion, secret keeping?

I’ve tried not to describe reader at all so you can be whomever you want.

Summary: Betrothed to two Kings, you travel with them to their home where you learn more than you ever thought you would. But how are you to cope with two husbands who want to start a family and secure their place in the world?

A/N: I had no idea how to do a ceremony, so I let rip with my imagination...

You woke early on the morning of your wedding, butterflies already dancing in your tummy. You stretched and felt your nightgown move against your skin as hopes and dreams left your sleepy mind.

Everything was moving so fast, you hadn’t known them a week ago and now you were to be wed to not one but two men.

Tomorrow morning they would be with you when you woke, they would see you like this, less than perfect. Something about that, about two powerful men seeing you at your worst made your heart twist in excitement.

Would they leave you if you weren’t beautifully made up and put together with your hair pinned and decorated? Were you even beautiful? Only your mother and your ladies maids had called you beautiful, and once Tony had called you pretty.

You sighed and pushed the covers back ready to clear your mind and start the day off as you meant to go on. The knock on the door startled you and you pulled the blankets back around your naked knees. “Come in,” you called.

The door opened and Bucky stepped inside your room carrying a tray, Steve behind him carrying a single red rose. They looked smug as they made themselves comfortable on your bed.

Steve picked up a cut of cold meat with his fingers and held it to you. You parted your lips and took a cautionary bite your eyes on his fingers as he fed you. You didn’t miss Steve’s thumb brushing over your bottom lip after you accepted the food. He followed it with a quick kiss to your lips.

“My turn,” Bucky said reaching for another piece of meat. They took turns feeding you and each other, the act oddly intimate. No words were needed, and there was a spark in the room that you didn’t understand just yet, but it made your body knot up with anticipation.

Bucky’s face looked a little ragged like he hadn’t had much sleep and his hair was messed, but he seemed happy, relaxed. Steve looked fresh and ready to take on the world. You wondered if they had a disagreement but there was no hostility between them.

Bucky set the tray aside when you were finished and turned to smile at you. “I have to go shave now, make ready for my beautiful bride,” he said scratching at his face.

“Don’t,” you said biting your lip when you heard your own firm tone. You reached a hand up and ran your fingertips through his stubble. “I like it.”

Steve chuckled and turned to Bucky with sparkling eyes. “Told you punk.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he leaned close to Steve pecking his lips.

You watched them with fascination, and when both men turned to you, your heart raced in your chest and your throat tightened. It was Steve who leaned close to kiss you first, just a brush of lips against yours, and when you gasped he took advantage and deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing yours. Before you knew it he was away and Bucky was kissing you. He was rougher than Steve, nipping your lip then soothing it with his tongue.

You had to clench your legs together because of the sudden heat pooling between your thighs. Your whole body tingled, you were on the edge of something but you didn’t know what.

Bucky’s hand was on your waist, and he slid it higher until he touched the bottom of your breast. You gasped again and Steve growled low in his throat. “Bucky.”

“You look gorgeous,” Steve said as he pulled Bucky up by the arm. “And if we don’t go now, well, we won’t make the wedding.”

You watched them go, your plump bottom lip between your teeth. As soon as the door closed you fell backwards, a wide smile on your face.

When your ladies came to help your put on the new gown for your wedding you were beaming. Your father had ordered a dress for you but you had made sure to speak to the seamstress so it looked the way you wanted. You had realised early on in life that a little kindness, along with some kind of generous token, went a long way. You were short two beautiful hair combs and a kitten from the stable, but the end result was worth it. Getting a trick over your father though, that had filled you with pride.

Erica powdered your face slightly but your lips were still stinging from Steve and Bucky’s attentions earlier and you barely had to pay them any attention, just a little of your gloss and you were ready to be wed.

Each step closer to the wedding chapel felt like a lifetime, and your heart raced so hard you could hear nothing but the rushing of blood in your ears. You were focused on your next step, and that alone for fear you might trip and fall in your delicate new shoes.

Your father waited at the chapel doors, a dark scowl on his face. “That’s not the dress I approved.”

You swallowed but didn’t respond. He clicked his tongue. “You will not embarrass me or make a spectacle of yourself. You will obey me whilst here. This is my home and you’re my daughter. Remember where your loyalties lie.”

You looked at him but you didn’t speak and after a moment he huffed out a breath and held his hand out. You rested your hand atop his and let him lead you towards the aisle then towards the alter.

Both men stood on either side of your fathers priest and a friar from Farotaide. They were dressed simply in dark battle pants, boots and white silken shirts, but they looked magnificent, especially compared to your family in their opulently golden threaded suits.

Two hands reached out, their right hands and you reached your right hand forward to them. A nod was given to your father then he was dismissed.

Your fathers priest began to talk as the friar wound three lengths of silk around your joined hands.

“Hand fastening is how we solidify the bonds of marriage in Farotaide, this is just the first step. The rest you must take together and individually.” The friar was whispering quietly to you, his brow furrowed.

“You must be willing to give up that which you hold most dear, and you must trust that these men will give it back to you. In turn you must give to them what you take away.”

You frowned, your skull felt like it was full of wool, but you looked at the old man and his soft face, and then at your betrothed and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt that they would be good husbands. Good men.

With your consent the ritual started, with blood and smoke and chanting. You were a little awed by everything going on around you, but the two men anchored you, hands tight to yours, eyes soft and full of warmth.

“The smoke, from incense, symbolises the merging of souls,” Steve whispered so soft his lips barely moved. “Blood is to promote strong bonds and fertility, and our hand fasting is our literal joining.”

“What do the words mean?” You asked softly.

“They bind everything together, just like these ribbons bind us. The words are stitched onto the ribbons, and we’ll use these in ceremonies and symbolically for the rest of our lives,” Steve murmured.

“Kneel,” the friar instructed.

“Left knee down first,” Steve said. You followed them until your knees were sinking into soft velvet cushion on the floor. “Friar will keep us right.”

Steve’s eyes flicked up to the man, and you realised that you knew very little about their rituals, but they guided you none the less. Complicated knots were tied into the ribbons and you were physically bound together.

You paid attention despite your ignorance and afterwards your fathers priest said the words of your gods and bound you in marriage to these two kings.

———

Afterwards, as you sat at the feast between your husbands, you chased the memories of the ceremony, noting questions you would ask them, but this noisy celebration was not the place.

“Do you ride?” Bucky muttered as he leaned close to you. His warm breath tickled your ear and you tried to suppress the shiver, but he noticed.

“No, I vaguely recall a white pony at a time,” you said as you tried to watch everything going on.

There were dancers performing and a bard stood aloft reciting a poem of glory days. The dancers, with wooden weapons enacted the words, twisting and twirling and jumping from table to bench.

“We will have to teach you then,” Steve said as he ignored the servant by the end of you table and cut a chunk of meat, putting it on your plate first. You flushed, you should have been served last. He did the same for Bucky and then himself. “In our home, you feed the others at the table before filling your own plate.”

“Men should be fed first should they not?” You asked as you watched him pile vegetables onto your plate next.

“And if we run out of food?” Bucky nudged you.

“There’s always something,” you swallowed.

“If I were to fill your plate and leave none for myself what would you do?” Steve asked as he took a sip from his goblet.

“I’d share with you,” you said without considering the question.

The two men smiled and you felt like you were being tested.

“Tonight will not be what you expect,” Steve said, changing the subject.

“Oh,” you blushed furiously.

“You must do exactly as we say, what we do is to protect you,” Bucky added. “Even if our actions confuse you.”

You blushed again, trying to hide your face behind your hands, Steve chuckled.

“Oh sweetheart, when it’s that time you will most definitely be ready, but tonight will not be as you expect,” Steve repeated mysteriously. He looked almost disappointed.

———

Your heartbeat fast as they took your hands and with a king to your left and a king to your right, you let them lead you to the wide dance floor. “How will this work?” You murmured out of the side of your mouth.

“It’s okay Doll, we’ve got you,” Bucky said gently. “Just follow our lead.”

You stood side by side, and Bucky took your hand moving you in a slow spin in time with the music. Steve caught your hand turning you in a circle of his own. You repeated this again, and then they took each others hand, spinning together. The room was a blur, it was only the warm skin of their hands and the blue of their eyes that kept you anchored.

You could feel yourself laugh, and they laughed with you and then you were thrust into Steve’s arms and Bucky disappeared. You turned to look for him but Steve caught your chin with his fingers. “Eyes on me my sweet girl.”

You opened your mouth, but Steve gave you a knowing look, and you closed your lips understanding that something unusual was going on. You danced together until Steve led you back to your table, pulling you onto his lap. You shared a goblet as you sipped wine and then Bucky was back, his face flushed as he leaned down to whisper something in Steve’s ear.

“You’re sure?” Steve turned to him.

Bucky’s face was grim as he nodded his head. His eyes flicked to yours and his lips curled up into a soft smile. “Sweetheart, I think it’s time we retired. You may want to bid your family goodnight.”

You nodded and Bucky accompanied you to where your father and brother sat.

“You’re due to retire daughter?” King Howard said with a bored look on his face.

“I am,” your voice shook. You were nervous, standing here, knowing what was about to happen, knowing that your father knew.

“I wish you well daughter, and a son will come about soon I hope, for your sake,” his eyes were dark as they bored into you. You nodded, understanding that was what he expected of you. You were a woman and as far as your father was concerned that was your purpose in life.

———

Steve’s fingers were tight around your hand, his shoulder brushing against yours as you made your way to the bedroom. Your heart was crashing against your chest; your belly was full of butterflies. You were nervous, you had only known these men a few days and you were to give your body to them.

You were on the staircase, passing various pictures of your family’s country estate meant to show off grandeur and wealth to strangers when Bucky paused. His body went completely still save for one deep breath he took, his eyes travelling ahead of them further up the grand staircase. “Is there a shortcut, a way out of here?” Bucky’s voice was low. Steve’s fingers tightened around your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

“Yes.” You lowered your tone to match his and nodded at the hallway on the next landing.

“Can we get to the stables from there?” Steve was already pulling you towards the tapestry that hid the door. “Without going back downstairs?”

“Yes.” you said slowly. You looked along the length of the hallway. “It is a service staircase.”

“Do you have a lesser one, a secret one?” His voice was soft as his pace quickened slightly, dropping his head towards you so that you could better hear him.

“Not that I know of, tell me what’s going on?” You asked pulling on Steve’s hand.

“Nothing,” Steve sounded distracted. You turned to him, but kept his pace, and you were almost running to keep beside him. Your legs were starting to ache, and your feet already hurt from your new shoes. Your skirts fluttering around your legs made your look as if you were some sort of spirit floating along the hallway.

You got to the service staircase and met Sam, his eyes flicking all over the hallway. “About time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said. Steve went first and pulled you behind him. Bucky’s hand was on your waist as he followed behind you.

“Have you got all you need, if we leave now, are you prepared?” Bucky asked urgently.

“What?” You asked. Anger bubbled in your chest suddenly, they were already keeping secrets from you and your marriage wasn’t even consummated. “And where are we going?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Everyone paused around you but looked at each other.

“We need to leave,” Steve said urgently.

“Why?” You wanted to stomp your foot, but you realised how childish the action would be.

“There’s something happening right now, and we need to leave.” Steve said urgently.

“This is my home, we’re safe here.” You said looking around. You were on the third level of the house, where most of the guest bedrooms were, but everyone was at the party downstairs. It was never this quiet, and you shivered, something wasn’t right you realised.

“That’s the thing; we’re actually not safe at all anymore.” Bucky said placing his hands gently on your waist and squeezing. “We can’t fight them all, not in here without a weapon, and we cannot leave you behind.”

“Leave me behind, fight, what are you talking about?” You demanded. The tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

“Trust us, kitten please,” Steve begged. His blue eyes searched your face and he seemed almost distressed. “There’s a troop of soldiers upstairs waiting for us, for you. I think they’ve tried to trick us early.” Steve said the last part to Sam and Bucky who made agreeing noises.

“Trick, soldiers, tell what the hell is going on!” You demanded clenching Steve’s fingers hard with your own and finally giving in and stomping your heel onto the stone flags. The noise echoed down the staircase. “If you don’t tell me now so help me, you’ll be sorry.”

“We will,” Steve swallowed and nodded to you, his eyes wide and sincere. “We’ll tell you everything, but for now we don’t have time, so I need you to trust us and I need you to come with me. We need to leave here and travel home now.”

By the time you got to the stables several horses were saddled, most of them heavy war horses. There were two sturdy riding horses and Sam immediately swung up onto one of them.

There was a flurry of activity around you and then Steve caught your elbow, looking into your eyes. “You’re going with Bucky.”

You hadn’t noticed your other husband mount his horse, but he sat proud on the steeds back. “Steve-“

His warm lips crashed onto yours. His hands gripped your upper arms tight, pulling you against his chest. He took your breath away as his tongue invaded your mouth pressing against your own. By the time he pulled away you were breathing heavily, and he nipped at your lips.

“I can’t wait to spend my life with you, to get to know you, to love you. You’ll be safe with Bucky, he’ll get you back to Farotaide safely, and I’ll meet up with both of you there,” Steve said, pecking your cheek. His hands slipped up your hips to underneath your arms and he lifted you easily. Bucky caught you, pulling you in front of him. You watched as Steve raised onto his toes. Bucky bent at the waist, and they kissed fierce and fast, biting at each other.

“Be careful,” Steve murmured.

“You too sweetheart,” Bucky said. He righted his body, wrapping one arm around your waist and gathering up his reins. He draped a heavy cloak around your shoulders, ensuring that it covered your legs and feet. Steve was removing your delicate shoes and replacing them with heavy winter boots.

Bucky guided the horse out of the stable and through a back door, padding over grass to an open gate within the city walls. “Your horse?” you asked turning to face Bucky.

“Winter, his name is Winter,” Bucky’s breath was warm on your cheek.

“Hi Winter,” you said stroking his thick mane.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, and you settled back against his thick chest as you rode away from the only home you’d know in the dead of night.

You didn’t even feel sorry.

------

Four other riders joined Bucky and you as you rode northwest away from your home, and it was only Natasha you recognised. The path took you through thick forests and past rushing streams. Bucky kept a steady pace and it was almost daylight before he stopped and helped you from the horse.

Winter nudged him and Bucky chuckled, offering him some titbits from his pocket.

You sat on a log as Natasha and someone introduced to you as Clint went off to make the space safe, setting traps to alert them to anyone’s presence. The others worked quickly building a fire to cook a meal and boil some water but it was soon put out.

As the morning wore on you fell asleep where you sat, almost falling off the log several times.

“Here,” Bucky said moving the massive saddle Winter wore to rest against a tree. He spread his cloak out beneath it. You lay down and gave him a grateful smile, but sleep wouldn’t come despite your tiredness. Every time you fell something jerked you awake. It was only when Bucky finally sat next to you and ran his hand over your head did you relax.

“Tell me what’s going on,” you murmured into his thigh.

“You father meant us harm; he intended to first embarrass us by not alerting us to our own wedding, and then he wished to have you attacked and blame us for it. There is money in war Sweetheart and your father wishes for one to be declared,” Bucky said.

You sat up, the idea of sleep long gone, and stared at him. “Why did you come then?”

Bucky shrugged. “We made a promise to your mother,” he said softly. “We promised her that we would honour the treaty she made when you were a child to get you away from your father. We never break a promise.”

You gaped at him. “You knew my mother.”

“We both did. We met her several times, and we met you as children too. We played together,” Bucky pulled you into his arms. You rested your head on his shoulder. “We have a lot to tell you but I don’t want to tire you out, please sleep sweet plum, we still have a few days journey ahead and I want to get you home safe as can be.”

You sighed and let yourself sink into his arms. Your body was sore from riding and you were not looking forward to more of it, but you understood that it was necessary.

“Did you have a white pony?” You asked.

Bucky chuckled and stroked your cheek. “No my love, you did,” he said as your heavy eyes finally gave way to slumber.

“It won’t be long before you see the barge men fighting their way over the rapids with goods to trade.” Bucky whispered. “There’s already been a heavy rainfall for the river to run like that, look, see how mist covers the tops of the mountains.” Bucky nodded to the vast landscape ahead of you.

You took in the view, in the dawn light. You had never been this far north before, but you travelled extensively the rest of the lands. “It looks dark,” you replied quietly.

“It is. Life in the North is no picnic; you have to be of a certain constitution to deal with it.” Bucky explained. His chest vibrated at your back and his beard tickled your cheek.

You swallowed, nerves getting the better of you at the thought of your new home. “What about me?” You asked.

“You’re going to fit in fine,” Bucky said confidently. You shifted on his lap, your legs felt numb from hours of riding, and you were about to beg Bucky for a short break when riders approached from behind.

“It’s the plains men; they’re an hour behind us!” The rider said glancing from Bucky to you.

“They ride hard and tire their horses quickly,” Bucky surmised. “We’ll speed up but we’re only thirty minutes from the lakes.”

The Lakes, you knew, was the northern border. Few men crossed it, but no one ever told you why. Natasha trotted up beside them and smirked over at Bucky. “I hope she’s worth it.”

“Come on; don’t tell me this isn’t fun Nat!” Bucky said with a smirk, his eyes dancing. Winter snorted and stomped his feet, eager to move. Natasha looked at you with an unreadable expression but you just shrugged at her.

“Not my fault Bucky wants a race,” you said. Natasha smirked and pointed a finger at you.

“I like you.” She said before galloping off.

Twenty minutes later Bucky’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed his face into your neck, breathing deeply. There was a steep bank and he leaned back, pulling you with him. Winter, despite his size was nimble and sure footed as he splashed into the river.

A thin strip of land lay in the middle of the river and your small party crossed it quickly.

Winter danced up the bank and turned, in a circle, his adrenaline high. Bucky nudged him on, and Winter took a short gallop. You laughed, wind whipping your face, and then he approached another stream, this one no higher than his hooves.

“Welcome home.” Bucky said suddenly sitting straight and lifting a hand in greeting. . You looked north and on the crest of the hill legions of men and horses lined up, Steve in the middle of them.

Behind them you saw sloping hills that led to snow-capped mountains peeking through the mist and low clouds. Wide rivers ate through the land; thick forests surrounded it, while the waters of the lake lapped at pebbled shores. The sky was dull, heavier clouds hovering in the distance.

Looking back you gasped as you saw your father’s army hovering a quarter mile from the river bank. They were hovering and instead of looking menacing they just looked disjointed, like they were trying to figure out their next move.

“They’ll not follow us now, but we will have to ensure that the river is well garrisoned this winter,” Bucky said as he guided his horse towards Steve. When you got to him you couldn’t help but smile at his tired face. He smiled back and leaned close to peck your lips, then Bucky’s lips.

“How was your journey,” he asked.

“Slow,” Bucky said as Winter danced away, still full of energy. Steve nodded in understanding, turning his own horse.

“We’ll be home by nightfall,” Steve assured you as he reached for your hand, squeezing your fingers. “And then we’ll get a soothing bath and sleep for three days.”

Bucky hummed in agreement and you guessed he was tired too and looking forward to his bed.

———

You woke with a jolt, your eyes searched frantically to take your surroundings. You were still resting against Bucky’s solid chest. “Sorry, I think I dozed off,” you muttered. Bucky kissed your neck and nuzzled his cheek against your hair.

“You’ve been asleep for three hours,” Bucky said squeezing you tightly.

“I could hear you snoring over here,” Steve added teasingly.

You blew a raspberry at him and he feigned offence before laughing and blowing you a kiss. As you came more awake you noticed there was a lot of activity around you now. “See that keep up there,” Bucky said with his chin resting on your shoulder, his stubble grazing your cheek.

You looked up at the castle sitting atop what looked like a rock. A whole town was built around the castle, and around that were thick walls. You couldn’t see what was beyond, but it looked beautiful in its simplicity.

“Yeah,” you said as you let your eyes roam the area.

“That’s home.” Steve’s voice was soft. He was still beside you but you figured earlier on Bucky’s horse was the more sturdy of the two so you had stayed in his arms for now.

The dark stone blended into the countryside unlike the whitewash your father preferred that made his palace stand out. There was one wall, for show more than protection, around your home, but the castle you rode towards was protected by a mote and several walls rising up the ramparts. There was even a drawbridge, something you’d only seen pictures of or heard stories about. The glow from the windows, and the hustle and bustle around the town made it look the most welcoming place you’d ever travelled to.

As you got closer, and more people gathered, Bucky and Steve greeted them with a wave, a nod or some even a few words. The click of the horse’s hooves on the drawbridge made you shiver as you travelled inside the first set of walls and up past the lower walls of the ramparts. You moved towards what looked to be a stable; it was a massive building that stretched for quite a distance.

Bucky swung down easily and reached up to help you down, swinging you to the ground. Steve was behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I know your legs must feel weak, hold onto me and shake them out if you can and I’ll get you a hot bath organised after we care for the horses.” Steve said, kissing your temple.

“Okay.” you said. You watched Bucky stroke Winter’s neck, talking soothingly to him until you had feeling back in your legs. He unsaddled the horse quickly after that, giving him a rub down with a handful of straw while Steve did the same for his horse.

“There you go Cap,” he said fondly, and you smiled at how gently he gazed at the big horse.

“Can you get us some feed from over there sugar plum.” Bucky said and you were surprised to find he was speaking to you. There was a basket of mixed vegetables on the ground beside a large bin filled with oats. You lifted the basket and with surprising gentleness Winter took a step towards you and dipped his massive head into the basket. A moment later Cap nudged Winter out of the way so he could get share.

“Oh!” you said surprised by their behaviour. “I didn’t expect them to be so gentle and friendly.”

“You smell like them,” Steve explained. You stroked Cap’s nose as he crunched away on his mixture of vegetables while Steve added oats to the mixture.

“Everything in the North is precious, including the horse who allows me to ride him, and the guard of honour we’ve had from the borders.” Bucky said blinking a yawn away.

“Guard of honour?” you asked.

Bucky made a humming noise in his throat. “A wolf pack picked us up at the border.”

“I didn’t see anything.” you said. A rustling noise in the corner drew your attention and you startled at the sight of the wolf in the corner. Beside him a female laid suckling cubs.

“He can be shy.” Bucky said clapping his hand against the horse’s flanks. You wanted to ask the names, but you felt foolish for not noticing the wolf before now, so you kept quiet. “His pack was hunted when he was a cub, I found him and patched up his wounds, brought him home. I’ve always tried to keep from domesticating him but he grew up strong and got himself a pack, and this is where he wanted to have his pups.”

“What about the horses?” You asked.

“We have an understanding,” Steve reassured you. “We take care of each other.”

They finished up and headed towards a staircase. Steve kept a firm arm tight around your waist as he walked your through the castle, keeping to back hallways and staircases. Bucky paused after a few moments, disappearing into a room.

“Bucky’s hungry no doubt, gone off to pilfer the larders. Mrs Wrey will have his hide,” Steve chuckled.

You grinned back. “Steve how come we’re sneaking around?”

“We’ll present you to them in a few days; I want to give you a chance to rest first, and we need to let you know what’s been going on. We’re safe now and we need to enjoy that.”

Chapter 4

#stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky #royalty au #fantasy au #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #stucky x you

196 notes · View notes

xhellfireclubx · 2 years

Text

HELLS BELLS

A/N: This is Part Four! Previous chapters below:

Chapter One: The Hoard

Chapter Two: The Cabin In The Woods

Chapter Three: The Pinky Promise

Hi guys! I hope you enjoy this next chapter! The build is awesome and I have a superrrrr cool ending planned but that won’t be for a bit :) let me know what you guys think! I feel like this one has some pretty funny moments but also some steamy moments so buckle up! Thanks for so much love on this story already!

As alwayssss this stuff is mine, please do not take it! I don’t not consent for this to be posted anywhere than right here :)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader (she/her)

Warnings: 18+ only! very suggestive, language, slight hand kink, sexual, let me know if I missed any!

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Four: The Chicken

His face… his voice… seemed oddly familiar. Finally your brain made the realization,

It was Dustin Henderson.

“Henderson? Dustin Henderson right?” You say with a bit too much enthusiasm, the boy’s eyes widening as you speak his name with confidence despite the fact of having never met you before. “What the hell, how do you know my name?” He says in a screechy, panicked voice as he looks rapidly over his shoulders as if searching for something.

“You have to come with me. Please, trust me.” You say as you rapidly climb to your feet before turning and walking in the direction you had come from only moments before. You had a large scrape down the side of your arm now from the impact, your skin burning at the injury. “But what if you kill me? WHO are you??” He asks- desperate for answers, not sure if he should follow. As he inspects you, he notices your shaved head, your speech -although much better than Eleven’s- still wasn’t great.

Dustin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he quickly begins to follow, hot on your heels- hoping that if he cooperated you would give him some answers. After only a few minutes, the only thing that continues to occupy the air was the sound of your food steps crunching through the twigs scattering the ground with Dustin’s close behind.

Just as he’s about to begin grilling you for answers, he stops dead in his tracks. “What’s that sound?” He asks, a hint of desperation in his voice. You looked up, faintly hearing it coming in the direction from the cabin you and Eddie had found. “Is that… a guitar?” Dustin asks, his voice wavering as you turn back to look at him.

He knew where you were taking him, his heartbeat quickening against his chest. He would know that guitar anywhere. You just smile, and nod gently before continuing to walk in the direction of the faint music. The sound was amazing. It made your heart flutter.

His strums grew in volume and intensity as you approached with each step. The song you were hearing soothed you in ways you only thought lullabies could, despite the fact of the actual music being played was quite the opposite of soothing. When the cabin came into view, you watch as Dustin breaks into a full sprint- causing you to run after him.

“EDDIE?! EDD-” Dustin screams as he bursts through the front door with you in tow. “JESUS H. CHRIST!!” Eddie screams cutting off Dustin in fear, jumping at the loud sound of the front door crashing open as he almost drops his guitar. Once his gaze moves from his guitar, his eyes widen at the sight of his younger friend.

“Dustin Henderson.” Eddie said with a sigh of relief, his lips curling into a smile as he stood up, placing his guitar on the coffee table and outstretching his arms. “But you.. how are you..” Dustin asks, his voice wavering and breaking on practically every word before he gives up, wrapping Eddie in the tightest hug he had ever given. You remember back to his heartbreaking wails, the yearning in his voice for his friend who would was gone forever.

Eddie smiles softly as he wraps the younger boy in a tight hug. A much needed hug for the both of them. Dustin pulls away suddenly, looking at Eddie as he tries his best to be angry with him. “WHY DIDNT YOU CLIMB THE DAMN ROPE, DUMBASS?” He smacks Eddie’s arm, before hugging him again immediately after.

Eddie lets out a light chuckle at Dustin’s mixed emotions, causing you to let out a little laugh as well. “I’m not running anymore Henderson.” Eddie says to him matter-of-factly, patting his back before pulling away. “We need to call the others, do you have a walkie on you?” Eddie says to Dustin, who quickly nods and pulls his walkie talkie from his backpack, extending the huge antenna to its maximum length.

After adjusting the frequency, Dustin holds down the talk button, bring the walkie talkie to his mouth. “Steve? This is Dustin. We’ve got a code red! The chicken did NOT cross the road. I REPEAT- the chicken did NOT cross the road.” Dustin says, before glancing to you. “Also there is a girl chicken too.” Dustin says while looking around at yours and Eddie’s clothes.

“Also if someone could get some clothes from the donation center…. The chickens have really weird clothes on.” Dustin says before letting go of the talk button, leading you to start to laugh at his awful code talk. Dustin looked at you as you began to laugh, remembering the parallels he had noticed between you and Eleven when he had discovered her in the woods with his friends years ago.

“Bring everyone.” He says into the walkie talkie once again, hoping Steve knew what he meant. “Chickens? Are you at a farm Henderson?” Steve’s voice retorted over the crackly speaker. You and Eddie begin to snicker quietly, Dustin groaning in frustration before pressing the button to speak again- “Just hurry up, bring everyone and meet me at the trailer park in 15. I’ll explain everything there.” Dustin says, waiting for a response from Steve. “You got it captain bossy pants, do you need some ice cream too? Maybe a manicure?” Steve’s sarcastic voice comes in through the speaker of the device once again, causing you and Eddie to struggle even more to contain your laughter.

Dustin rolls his eyes switching his device off and closing the large antenna before noticing Eddie’s look of confusion. “People think you’re dead, we need to keep it that way.” Dustin explained. You and Eddie nodded simultaneously in agreement to Dustin’s words.

“I’m going to go get everyone and bring them here, then we can all figure out what’s going on, and how we can stop it.” Dustin says as he begins to march back to the front door, pulling his compass from his pocket. “I’ll be right back, don’t let anyone else in, and lock the door.” Dustin says as you nod, while Eddie salutes sarcastically.

“Harrington’s right, you are bossy today.” Eddie retorts with a smile, causing Dustin to groan at his comment. “Just… do what I say.” Dustin says as he walks out of the front door, shutting it behind himself. You walk over to the door, clicking the lock shut with your hand before turning to look at Eddie.

“How did you find him so fast? I thought you were in trouble when he came bursting through the door like that.” Eddie chuckles as he saunters over to you. “Well, he kind of found me.” You say, shrugging lightly before pointing to the large scrape on your arm.

Eddie’s eyes widen at the sight, quickly taking your wrist in his hand so he could get a better look at it. “He was running for some reason and then ran into me.” You say, trying to drive Eddie’s gaze from the scrape on your arm. “Let me see if I can find a first aid kit.” Eddie says as he turns to walk to the bathroom.

His footsteps stop as he hears a giggle emit from your lips, his head turns to look at you with an arched brow. “What’s so funny?” He asks in confusion. “I don’t need a first aid kit, silly. Remember?” You ask, tapping your temple with your finger once more. “Oh, right. Can I… Can I see?” Eddie asks with a look of curiosity obvious through his gaze.

Unsure at first, as the only person you had ever actually healed in front of was Papa; you looked to Eddie again as he approached you, resting his hand on your hip as you lean into him. “You can trust me.” He says softly into your ear, bringing you to nod with a smile before taking his hand in yours and leading him to the couch. He sits first, patting the seat right next to him, where you eagerly take your place.

Eddie places his hand reassuringly on your knee, rubbing small circles into your knee with his thumb. You focused on the soothing feeling, slowly beginning to feel relaxation and concentration wash over you as you closed your eyes. You envisioned the scrape on your arm healing over as quickly as it had happened, bringing your left hand to your chest, pressing firmly. Before you knew it, the bright white light was covering your vision, the deafening frequency returning to your ears.

“Holy shit…” Eddie mumbles quietly, hoping to not disturb you but unable to contain his disbelief as new skin began growing rapidly over the scrape. Electric currents returned to every inch of your body, seemingly all traveling to the location of the scrape simultaneously. Once the light and frequency had faded from your senses, you fluttered your eyes open.

Glancing down at your arm, a slight smile spread across your lips as you confirmed that the scrape was completely gone. You shift your focus to Eddie, who’s still wearing a look of bewilderment and amazement all over his face, causing you to laugh.

“How do you think I saved you?” You asked through your giggles, causing Eddie to smile. “You just continue to amaze me I guess.” He says with a chuckle before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, causing you to cuddle into his side as you sat next to him on the couch.

“Are you going to tell everyone? About your past I mean?” Eddie asks thoughtfully, not wanting to push you to do something you weren’t ready for. “I can tell them I don’t know how I lived, and that I found you in the Upside Down or something.” You only shrugged, listening to his words. Your heart fluttered at his offer- at how considerate he was of your comfort. Eddie was completely trustworthy, so his friends should be too.. right?

“I don’t know yet..” You say as you contemplate your options, trying to fight the distrust that you were taught to have of others since the beginning. “What were you playing? Before Dustin and I came back? We could hear it… it was so amazing.” Your lips curl into a gentle smile, wanting to change the subject as swiftly as possible. “Just some AC/DC, I couldn’t figure out how to get the player to work so I was just doing it myself.” Eddie says with a chuckle, looking down at you and catching your gaze with his.

“It was really, really good. I’ve always liked the guitar. I would read about them in books all the time.” You say, staring deep into his deep brown eyes. “Well how about once this is all over, we arrange some lessons and I’ll teach you how to play?” Eddie asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek causing your cheeks to flush lightly.

You nod excitedly at the offer, taking his other large hand with yours and beginning to twist the rings around on his fingers, studying the designs on each before moving to the next. You look up at Eddie’s expression just as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling at it lightly as you play with his fingers.

Getting a wave of confidence, you press your lips to Eddie’s jawline lightly. He lets out a grumble in response, leading you to do it again. His arm around your shoulders begins to move you closer, causing you to climb onto his lap with your knees on either side of his legs. Eddie’s hand slides down your back, gripping your hip as you continue to place kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

The feeling of his grip caused your stomach to flutter. “You’re trying to get a rise out of me, aren’t you princess?” He mumbles against your ear, pulling your body closer against him as he begins to kiss down the front of your neck, trailing down to the neckline of your shirt as he begins to nibble on the lowest skin accessible- causing you to begin to move your hips against his slowly with a moan, earning a grunt from Eddie in response as well.

His large hands slowly slip underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding up your sides delicately- the feeling of his cold rings pressing into your skin send tingles throughout your entire body.

“I’m not lying! You’ll see!” You and Eddie both pull away quickly, hearing Dustin’s voice faintly coming into earshot. You scramble off of Eddie quickly as he begins to attempt to adjust the front of his jeans, hoping the tent in his pants wasn’t terribly noticeable.

You straighten your shirt, scooting to the cushion furthest from Eddie, hoping no one will catch onto what was going on just moments earlier. A knock came to the door, so many voices occupying the air you couldn’t even tell just how many people Dustin had brought. You felt your stomach turn at the thought of so many people finding out your secret.

Eddie stood quickly, a smirk appearing on his lips as he notices how red your face is- combined with the fact you were trying to catch your breath as quietly as possible. Unlocking the door, he threw it open, everyone beginning to crowd around Eddie. “The man, the myth, the legend has risen again!” A girl with short dirty blonde hair retorts. “Holy shiiiit bro….. do you think this guy could be Jesus?” A man with long dark, straight hair asks with wide eyes that were clearly red for some reason.

You scan the crowd of people that had just entered the cabin, letting out a shaky breath as you had never been around so many people you didn’t know at once before. As you’re scanning, something catches your eye. Something, familiar…

“Nine?” A girl with a shaved head, similar to yours said as she approached, eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion; causing everyone to stop their chatter with Eddie, turning their heads to look at you and her. She looked familiar… but different.

You nodded hesitantly, desperate to hear what she had to say as your face heated; the feeling of so many people staring at you being completely foreign.

She points to herself, looking deep into your eyes. You knew those eyes. “Eleven.” She says simply before raising the sleeve to her long sleeved, white floral printed shirt, revealing the 011 tattoo. Tears instantly began to brim in your eyes as your memories with Eleven began to flood back to you as you hold out your tattoo next to hers.

You look back up to her, seeing that she was now crying too. “I thought you died..” She said with an obvious heartbroken expression. “I thought you died!” You say back, pulling her into a much overdue hug. You both cried into each other’s shoulders for a couple minutes before slowly pulling away. “You can call me Nina though.” You say with a chuckle, wiping the remaining tears from Eleven’s cheeks.

“I TOLD YOU NINA WAS A SMALL WOMAN!” The same man with long hair and red eyes announces, much louder than needed. “Different Ninas, buddy.” The guy behind him says, patting his back comfortingly as he lets out a chuckle. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at his comment.

“Peter is Vecna. Peter is 001.” Eleven says, drawing your attention back to her. “I need you.” Eleven says, turning back to look at the rest of her friends. “We have to stop him, he’s killing everyone.” Eleven tells you, obviously distraught as tears brimmed at her eyes. You let out a shaky sigh at the thought of putting yourself into danger once again, debating the outcomes on both sides.

“What can I do to help?”

End of Chapter Four: The Chicken

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read Chapter Five: The Plan

#eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4

88 notes · View notes

solitaireships · 8 months

Note

Sunlit sea☀️, Shaved ice 🍧, Water gun 🔫!! (@eid0lons)

Answering these for James!

Sunlit sea☀️ - What nicknames or terms of endearment does your f/o use for you, and which are your favorites?

James like to call me dear and honey most of the time, and honey is my favorite of those pet names!

Shaved ice 🍧- What are things your f/o does that you find particularly/oddly attractive, that are usually unconventional or perhaps are strange to find attractive? (Or vice versa)

This is only half answering the question bcs it isn't a thing that he does on purpose, and idk if I find it attractive as much as I do soothing. But he has an artificial heart and it makes a really faint ticking noise that you can pretty much only hear when you're right up on it. And it's relaxing to hear it, and to get to be so close to him

Water gun 🔫 - If you could say anything to your f/o right now, what would it be?

Just that I love him and I hope that he loves me too

#asks #eid0lons #thanks for the ask!#🦾 tin man’s heart

3 notes · View notes

thealphagym · 10 months

Text

Becoming Alpha!

I Begin...

This has been coming for over 3 months now. Every time he is around, I can't take my eyes off of him. I know he sees me, but I don't care and oddly enough, it seems, neither does he. He is the largest and most incredible looking man I have ever seen. He is so thick with muscle that you'd think that he could barely move, but he is an incredibly agile giant. He’s limber and he stretches better than most. It's as if he has the accelerated body of a gymnast, but with huge balloon-like muscles. He's cut and inhumanly huge, looking like a Superhero. He literally looks like one of those morphed guys that you see online on the Muscle Growth sites, but he's made of real flesh and blood. All of the woman and most of the men fawn over him like bees to honey, but when I'm there, it seems his attention is on me, just as much as my attention is on him. It's uncanny, but I feel he is there just for me.

He is an Asian man, but I'm not sure what ethnicity, nor do I care. He is simply marvelous: Dark wavy hair, skin like bronzed butter with intense features and a square jawline. His piercing ocean blue eyes that see deep into your watery soul and lift you out of the depths of your normal life. Those sensuously deep red, plump, delicious looking full lips, that caresses the air of which he breathes with a hypnotic cadence of sound that soothes your inner demons and raises your hidden desires. His upper arms are at least 30 inches around and his forearms alone must be 20 inches thick. Arms that could crush a man ribs into dust with just the slightest hug, but would rather lift a man to new heights. His chest was like a pair of life preservers made of steel, with nipples that are brownish and as big as a baby's pacifier, which hang down, like fruit on a vine, due to the weight of his massive pec muscles.

He never wears a shirt, mainly and honestly, because I don't know of one that would fit him. He comes into Alpha Gym from the outside shirtless, even in the winter and it's as if the weather doesn't even phase him. I was sure his skin was impenetrable. He was always in skintight shorts, of various colors, so he must change them. Normally shorts of that size, I'm guessing at least a 5XL, but probably larger, would hang loosely on anyone else, but on him they literally look painted on, and that's not just an expression. You can see every muscle move under those shorts...EVERY muscle! His ass was as large as small suitcase with two huge basketball sized rocks for buttocks. His shorts were pulled so tight across them that there was an open gap where his ass-crack began, that would easily fit a hand down in it loosely, letting you see and feel the beginning of paradise. The front of his shorts is obscene even beyond porn’s highest standards, with his package protruding at least 8 inches out from his body and hanging about the same 8 inches down between his legs. The mound was filled with a cock that stretched the fabric around it leaving nothing to the imagination and the visibly lined head actually rested below the largest balls of immense glory I have ever witnessed. His thighs are, each, larger than a Great Dane's torso and with each step or movement of them it shows the muscle cords through his bronze translucent skin. But his legs were, other than a small tuft of black hair under his arms, the most prominent area of his body that had a thin layer of hair running over it. In fact, there was actually more than just a trace, though It's not noticeable until the light hits it just right, of a smooth field of golden fur covering his lower body, so even though he looks smooth as silk, he is covered in micro hair. I have come to realize he does not shave, but why shave...why do anything to take away of the mighty being that he was.

Yes, I have noticed him and studied him that closely, but from afar. I've watched every movement, every nuance, every justification of how incredible and otherworldly he is. You would think that he would be gawked at or even made fun of, but everyone just treats him normal, albeit if normal was acting like schoolgirls meeting the high school quarterback. To be in his presence is to be in the presence of greatness. No one challenges him and no one gets too close to him, but everyone knows about him, and most are drawn to him. You can tell that any who see him, want to be with him, to be important to him. Me? Well....there is no doubt that I'm drawn to him, but here's the thing, I should mention that I'm not gay, or I don't think I am, because honestly, since I can't get him out of my head, I just don't know anymore. I've begun to dream about him, both day and night. I've looked at other guys, big muscular guys, just to see if I'm attracted to them, but...well...I don't think so. Sure, I appreciate them and, I'm sure due to him, I would love to feel their power, but it's more of an idol/worship thing than it is sexual in nature. With him? There is this presence of feeling whole and longing that I can't seem to shake or what too, for that matter. Plus, I'm guessing all bets are off, because from the very moment I see him, my cock gets so hard it hurts and the throbbing of it, travels through my entire body, as if my whole body has an erection.

When he is around, my workout feels amazing. The pump I get is more than any other time that I work out when he's not near me. Is it because I want to impress him or is it something else? But My God...When I'm near him, I have gained more muscle and strength, faster than ever. Each time he's in the gym at the same time with me, I literally gain about 20-25lbs of hard muscle. I have gone from a middle-aged plump man to a well-toned muscled, contest ready bodybuilder...and it's all happening within the last 3 months, since I've seen and been around him. As well, I think even my cock has grown an inch or two as it was thicker in my hand and to pump it, I could now use 2 hands. Also, every time he is near, it's not just like I said about getting so rock hard, it's that I have no choice but to beat off in the showers. It's uncontrollable. I literally don't care about anything else, just getting that feeling of power and pure ecstasy. It's a feeling that is beyond a regular orgasm. It's as if, when I cum, I go to another plane of existence. The moment the water hits me, I begin my ritual of self-worship. I pinch my nipples and feel my new harder, bigger muscles than I had when I came in that day. I play with my entire body, edging myself and even fingering myself. I get loud, but no one seems to care. In fact, I get off on the fact that I know others can hear me and it makes them horny. I get hard as ever as I feel a power course through me that drives me mad with ecstasy. My orgasms are doubled in intensity and the amount of cum in me has tripled, as I paint the shower walls and then without even losing momentum as I'm still in a type of sexual frenzy, I lick the walls and myself clean of my cum. The taste of my cum only makes me hornier in a vicious cycle that I can't escape. Sometimes, even one orgasm isn't enough, as I shoot 2 or 3 times until I empty my newly larger ample nuts. Lately, I've thought more about some of the other guys, and I'll leave the curtain open as I self-love having them watch me from their stalls. Their admiration gets me off, too.

So yeah, I can't explain the feeling inside me when he is around me. I'm totally energized, horned up beyond belief, stronger than normal and I feel I could fuck a hole through a wall. Some of the other muscle guy's asses have made me think, "Hey, it's just another hot hole that needs filled. They would be blessed to have my cum enter them, but I haven't gone there...yet. It's as if his mere presence changes me and I'm completely giving myself to it. Last week, he talked to me and told me how proud he was of my growth in size and strength just in the past few months. He really talks to anyone. But then he did something that no one else, that I have ever seen, had happened too. He touched my shoulder and an electric feeling of power and strength that ran through me almost made me pass out. Visions soared inside me, and I looked up at him as I sat on the weight bench, as at that moment, I knew I was his. He knew it was well as he passed his magic to me, in that moment of touch, everything to get me ready for what was to come. All he said to me was, "Soon". I had no idea what he meant, but at the touch of his hand and his word, I got harder than I had ever been almost immediately, and I shot a good-sized load inside my shorts without even trying. He smiled and walked away, but he looked back and winked at me, to which I had my second orgasm within less than a minute after the first. You would have thought I'd be exhausted, but it was the complete opposite. I had never felt more energized, and I worked out for 4 hours that night, with a hard on that would not ebb, until the gym was almost empty. What the fuck kind of power does this man have over me, I thought, but at the same time, I didn't care. I wanted more. I went to get a drink of water and got up the courage to go and talk to him, but he was gone.

I continued to workout for about another hour and then I went to take a shower. Since my hard on would not go down, I... well, let's just say I got a few strange looks, but a couple of the looks were of a definite interest which only made me hornier. What the fuck? I was getting sexually aroused by the other guys and I was completely giving into it. One of the guys actually said to me that I was totally fuckable as he grabbed my rock-hard ass after I had stripped down in the locker room. I quickly put on my towel, but at the same time I wanted him to continue to touch me and more. In fact, I could feel the precum leaking out of my cock under my towel as hand continued to fondle me. I excused myself by saying, "Soon" (Hmm, that was odd) and I walked to the showers. As, I passed another guy, in his shower stall, drying off, I stopped when I heard him gasp and mutter under his breath, "Fuuuckkkk me, daddy". I noticed how thick and muscled he was (which I barely ever would have done before) and I smirked at him as I took off my towel, playfully revealing my hard muscled body and rock-hard dripping cock. I licked my lower lip and motioned with my eyes looking down his chiseled body. He responded by licking his lips at me and looking around as if to see if anyone was watching. "Wanna wack off?" was all he said and honestly, a few months ago, I would have been appalled and disgusted, but now, I completely welcomed the man's advances and I desired to stick my cock down his throat or up his ass. I started jerking my cock for him and he reciprocated. As we both began the ritual, I looked down the shower stall hallway to see the ass groper and another hot well hung black man, watching me as I stepped into the stall, I turned on the water and didn't close the curtain. Both men were hard as rock and seemingly not a bit worried about anyone else that might have seen us. In fact, all 4 of us acted like the world was only us at the moment and no one else mattered.

The second the water touched my body, I shot a large wad of precum out into the shower stall hallway, and I heard the black man say, "Fuck, did you see that?" to the ass groper. I looked over at my other admirer and he was jacking his cock like a fucking rabid animal. He was moaning loudly as I yearned for his body, which was hairy and thick with muscle and his cock was very thick with full ripe balls that yearned to explode their cum. There was no doubt that I yearned for him, but I felt he yearned for me even more and that was even more of a turn on. I wanted to fuck him and fill him with my cum. I wanted him to eat my ass and suck my cock. I wanted to own him. In fact, I wanted all 3 of them. I needed them to worship me. I felt a new power inside of me. It was a power of dominance and control. I was the one they all wanted, and I was gonna give them all of me. I was the Alpha and these...these things...were mine to use and control. My level of excitement rose in tornado of desire as I began to jack my cock as well. Using both my hands which didn't entirely cover my shaft, I pumped at him like I was going to fire my cannon across the hallway to put him through the back wall. He was definitely impressed by my body and the look on his face was the most incredible look of yearning for someone that I had ever seen. He began to moaning even louder as we fist fucked ourselves. The other two men couldn't care less about being discreet as they came over, standing outside of my admirer's stall and fist pumped their own cocks. The sounds of masturbation rang through the stalls and locker room. The wet slapping of skin and the intense crazed moans of a fire that was unrelenting coursed through us. My main focus was on my shower admirer, but I could also hear the satisfied and yearning moans of the other two men as they joined in harmony. The feeling of one of my new super orgasms was quickly rising and I yelled to them that I was close, pointing with my free hand for the three of them to kneel in front of me. Without hesitation, shower stud bolted out of his stall and the other two joined him, reaching me with a fervor I had never seen before as they knelt, with a bang on the tile floor, in front of me. Their mouths opened and I plunged my cock deep in my admirer, just in time for my first huge eruption ever into a man. At that very moment, I knew I was gay. I had always known it, but never accepted it. Now I relished it. Now, I let it all out.

He tried, but he could not take the amount of cum that was jettisoning out of me into his mouth. He swallowed as fast as he could, moaning like a cow as my pearl white jizz ran out of the side of his mouth and down onto his furry chest rug. Both the other men began lapping up the excess cum from his chin, mouth and chest. Then in response, he began to buck his hips as volley after volley of cum shot out of his cock coating my legs and feet. As I continued to cum in my loyal subject, I opened my eyes as I welcomed the site of both Ass groper and the black man kneeling in front of our stall as they too were cumming aIl over each other. After we all had expelled our cum for that round, I motioned for the other two men to join me in my stall and for the next 2 hours more cum was ingested and impregnated into my loyal subjects than I thought I was able to produce. I must have cum at least 8 times, each time with only a slight less of an amount. By the eighth orgasm I was cumming like that of a normal man. All 3 of these normally macho, viral muscle studs were completely under my spell, like my own little piglets. Oddly, a spell that I never knew I had the power of, but now I had an abundance. I was now a changed man, no, I wasn't a man any longer. I felt as if I was a God and I could have most any man I wanted. I knew it. I felt it. My Asian God had given me a gift that was the most amazing gift a man could possess. That night, I went to a gay bar for the first time, and I must have fucked, either orally or anally, about 15 men. My cum production never stopped, either.

The next day, I didn't see my Asian God, but I could literally, feel him everywhere I went: At the restaurant, at the bank, at work, and then especially at the gym. I had sex 14 times that day, once with the busboy, 3 cooks and 3 waiters at the restaurant I went to for lunch, twice with my boss at work and once again with the bank manager. I was their Alpha and they were my subjects. As well with each one, my power inside grew as I did as well on the outside. By the end of the day, my clothes were so tight that I decided to talk (or rather fuck the gym manager) into letting me work out in the gym after it had closed. Without any disturbance from subjects or without the confines of clothing, I worked out nude, cumming all over in the gym as I lifted. Then it happened.

I felt myself changing again...but not just physically.

As I was taking my shower for the night, I felt him. He was inside me now, but not literally. He was in the shower stall next to me and I practically blacked out when I first felt him. It was when I came the first time. He never said anything out loud, but inside me, as I continued to masturbate, without having control of myself, I felt him. My screams of euphoria filled the building. I think I must have had an orgasm 5 times in that shower in about 15 minutes. Finally, I felt his orgasmic hold on me leave my body and I turned off the water and collapsed on the floor. When I regained some my strength a few moments later, I opened the curtain and left my stall. Instinctively, I opened his shower curtain 2 showers down and there he was. He was even bigger than I had seen him a few days prior. He had been bent over to hide himself from my sight before, but now he stood up. He was well over 8 feet tall, and I would have guessed around 600lbs of pure muscle. His cock was beyond immense, being at least 16" long and 10 inches thick, and he was not hard. I thought to myself of a few days ago, as I gazed at him in servitude, "You touched me and..." He interrupted my thought and said out loud, "Your Welcome" and smiled. His voice literally shook the building. Then he motioned for me to come closer to him. He kissed the top of my head and even though I was an Alpha to anyone else that would have crossed my path, I was the loyal subject when it came to him. I was his servant. I was his little piglet.

He held my head and softly raised it up to look deep into the eyes. No... into my soul. Then, this colossal, 600lb, 8-foot giant then picked up my, now, 290lb body, by my head, as if I were a feather, to meet his gaze directly across from him. As I looked into his blue horizon, a warmth came over me and I shivered with joy as I knew I was finally meeting...my maker. He didn't even have to squeeze my head, to hold me up, as it was a light touch with no pain at all inside me, just an incredible warmth. I knew my feet had left the floor, but I wasn't afraid for falling back down. Instead, it felt euphoric. I felt as if he were to let me go, I would simply float in front of him. The most amazing part though was that I felt his power coursing through me. I felt his inhuman strength and his calmness of purity and truth. I felt like I was in a constant state of orgasm, but it something that was sustainable. A controlled euphoria. I still felt human, but more than that. I knew my body was now superhuman and that of a God, but now, with his touch, inside my mind and my soul, I felt myself progressing to all knowing and omnipotent. Man was no longer and would never again be a threat to me. Like him, I knew that I would never die. I would never get sick. I would never again feel pain. As he changed me, he not only improved me, but he cleansed me. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to tell me what I was becoming. I knew...and also, I knew my place. I knew he had chosen me and only me. I knew I was to learn from him. Yes, the gym was empty, and it was only he and I, but honestly, we could have been in Times Square, and wouldn't have mattered. It was only us. We at that moment were the only true beings in the world. If you would have been there and seen us, our light would have blinded you, but not harmed you. This world, our world was gone for that time. I was in another realm, his realm.

He let go of my head and I literally floated down onto my feet. He told me with his eyes to obey his every thought as my journey was far from over. I knelt in front of him at the precise moment that he thought for me to kneel in my mind. I did as I was told. I don't know how, but I knew where this is going, and I welcomed it. I yearned for it. He is a God and, even though I would now be considered a God in the eyes of most, I was still insignificant. He was all that matters. Soon, I will learn. Soon I will join him as an equal.

Soon...I will become, Alpha.

1 note · View note

fatuispolaris-archive · 1 year

Text

@filiasiderum asked: THE first signs of dawn had just barely began to show in the sky when Ao awoke to an empty bed, heart sinking in her chest as one hand stretched out to feel the vacant spot next to her.

He had been staying with her more often lately. Ajax, no… Tartaglia, eleventh of the Harbingers, had become a regular fixture in her life despite his irregular schedule. And yet, he still managed to find the time for her. Many nights were spent together, and many mornings shared as well, so to wake up without him felt…

It felt wrong.

Ao lingered on the feeling a bit too much, and almost let the bitter feeling consume her before she heard a noise come from her washroom. Willing herself out of bed and slipping on a robe to keep the chill off of her, she made her way towards the sound, relief washing over her as she spotted the man freshening up.

She's silent as she slid up behind him, arms wrapping tightly around his exposed waist and face burying against his back with a shaky breath. She felt foolish, getting so overwhelmed with emotion just from waking up to an empty bed, but the warmth radiating off of Childe's form quickly helped to soothe her worries.

perhaps it was unwise to let himself be so vulnerable with someone else, but childe felt no sort of threat coming from her. in all the time they'd known each other, ao didn't seem to play for any sort of opposing side or have ulterior motives. it was him that'd been the deceitful one, thought that revelation had long since came and went.

more pressing to him was the nature of their relationship. they were still in this odd limbo, yet it felt like more than that. he didn't leave right when they wrapped up, and often stayed until the last moment he could. it was oddly intimate, and he was certain they were both well aware of that. and yet, neither said a thing. these are the thoughts that plague him as he stands before the mirror in the washroom, just having finished up a clean shave. even that is an example of their intimate relationship—he had things like a spare razor, toothbrush, and comb in her washroom.

❝ did you miss me so soon? i never thought you to be the needy type, ao, ❞ he said, his words teasing. truly, he welcomed her presence. she was soft and warm on a rather chilly morning. something felt a bit off about how tightly she held him. he noticed a difference in the sound of her breathing and the rate of her heart. she seemed... concerned? worried?

❝ is something wrong? did you have a nightmare or something of the sort? ❞ he asked then, his tone becoming instantly more serious. he turned in her hold too, so that he could wrap his arms around her as well. though normally she was so sharp, elegant, and beautiful, there was a certain softness to her in the mornings that he felt was something special that a rare few got to enjoy. it was nice.

@filiasiderum || unprompted asks / always accepting

#filiasiderum #( answered. )#// i was admittedly a bit confused by the verse/time placement but we ball #q

1 note · View note

hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

Text

Gloved hand (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair found a way to get rid of his chip, and went looking for his brothers in the depot, fully aware of the confrontation that would follow.

No pairing or reader description, only the member of the Batch

Word count: 2761

CW/TW: ANGST; Death, trauma, guilt, violent memories/ nightmares, burns/scar, some swearing; I don’t know how graphic my style is, so if I forgot anything please tell me!

Tags: @allamarisss @loth-wolffe @imalovernotahater (you all asked 🤧)

@razena88 @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s (non of you asked but I thought you'd want to check it out since you reacted to my Crosshair post; if you don't want to be tagged just tell me and I'll remove it !)

Notes: I had to. Because you’re all nice and I love pain, so here is the Sad Hour: Crosshair Edition™; Enjoy! (aka, I hope you’ll suffer a bit)

PS: sorry about the little dots when I skip a line, it’s the only way I could well...skip a line. I’ll try to find another way for the future!

PPS: The Neighbourhood - Roll Call is the song I listened to while writing this 🤭

______________________________________

He knew they were waiting on him, on the move he would make. They didn’t know about his chip being removed – not yet – and he knew he only had one shot.

How ironic.

He was still wearing the Imperial armour, face covered by his helmet, rifle attached to his back. He could see the way Hunter tightened his fingers around the trigger, and he recognised that look; the one he usually gave to his opponents before he killed them. He could get away; Hunter was a good shooter and his senses did helped for that; but Crosshair was the marksman. He guessed by a simple look at the scenery that the shot would crush through his pectoral plates, and given the distance and the type of blaster, it would surely shake him out, but it wouldn’t kill him.

As much as he sucked at it, he had to resort to words. He wasn’t the Empire’s puppet anymore, and trying once again to threaten them…It was simply out of the question.

Slowly, he raised his hands to his helmet, grabbing the lower part of it. He waited a second, not sure about the short moment where his vision would be obstructed.

Come on, you don’t get to worry about getting shot. Take the damn bucket off.

He pushed it up his head, briefly closing his eyes as a ridiculous way to sooth his morbid thoughts. When he opened them up again, Hunter hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t know how much time he had, so Crosshair dared to take a step forward. Then another, holding his helmet in one hand, keeping the other one on the plastoid covering his chest, gently taping it with a gloved finger.

He stopped at the fourth step. The Batchers tensed up, unsure of what his next move would be. Crosshair knew what he was doing.

T’s your time to shine, Cross.

“DC-17. Round it down to a 7 meters distance from the target, slightly move your arm to your left.” He taped on a small spot of his chest plate, never breaking eye contact with Hunter. “Make me proud.”

It was a bold move, he knew it too damn well. He forced himself to maintain eye contact with them, with him, as much as it scared the crap out of him. As much as he hoped, deep down, for his brother to take pit-

It was quick, bright. Finger pressed against the trigger, Hunter noticed every wave in the sound of the shot as it echoed in the depot. He followed the blue deflagration as it got spit out of his blaster, sliding the air in a thin whistling, brushing past Crosshair’s left arm, hitting another clone further behind.

He didn’t know if it was the right decision; but he knew enough about Crosshair to try it.

“I said ‘to your left’” was the only thing that came out of Crosshair’s mouth as he turned his head to look at the man lying on the floor a few meters behind him. He wasn’t dead, and now they had to quickly evacuate.

But Cross was alive. For now.

“Tech, get in there and be ready to take off when I tell you to! Wrecker, you cover us. Crosshair.”

The sniper pulled out his own blaster, back turned to the Batchers, ready to shoot any intruder trying to rip him away from his family once again. He soon felt a firm hand grasping his shoulder and dragging him back. He didn’t fight it, didn’t look at it. His focus was on the men running in the depot, on the way he hit them with such precision it almost felt too easy.

He was the last one to get in the Havoc Marauder, still shooting as the door closed shut in front of him.

“…Crosshair?”

His heart pounded so hard in his chest that for a moment, he thought it might go through the plastoid armour and crush against the wall. There was the next move. So easy to execute, yet so terrifying.

“Crosshair, look at us.”

It was the tone; too formal, almost polite. He hated it. But he obeyed anyway, slowly turning around to face his tattooed brother.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down and cut that crap.

Hunter remained silent for a moment, examining Crosshair’s face scarred by burns, his new shaved side and white patch on the side of his head. The violent pumping and barely shaky breath told him more than the stoic eyes he was staring at.

“How’d you do it?”

“A droid helped.” Hunter’s nod was the only answer he got.

Keep talking, di’kut.

“I-”

“I missed you.” confessed Wrecker. “I think we all did.”

Now it was his turn to nod. What could he possibly answer? ‘I missed you too, but mostly because my chip made me want to kill you.’?

You didn’t wanted it, you had no choice.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Echo got a bit closer to him, even though he couldn’t tell if it was a good idea. “We know you didn’t.”

“Now that you removed your chip, you’re out of risks.” commented Tech, trying to comfort him a bit.

Each second passing was getting him closer to the edge. He wasn’t looking at faces, he was looking at phantom targets, still feeling the stings stabbing his brain every time he hesitated before shooting at them. Their voices were hardly getting to him, they were so distant, probably a faint memory from a time where he still had control.

“…get you something to eat, and you’ll go take a shower. Works for you?”

“Yes, Sarge.”

He knew the small clap on his shoulder was more of a friendly kind than a brotherly one. He hated it. He deserved it.

He never felt that uncomfortable while eating with someone before. Even lunches on Kamino’s cantina weren’t as awkward. Tech tried to initiate a small talk, mentioning their next mission, the supplies they would need to get, and Omega tried to keep him going by nodding and asking questions he knew were useless.

But really, it was just an excuse to avoid the talk. Given the situation, it would probably hurt less to just… confront him. Tell him he scared them, when he callously ordered Hunter to stand down and surrender, told his troopers to “aim for the kid”. Not that he didn’t know; he found the confession in their eyes every time they would look at him.

He barely ate, rolling a fresh toothpick between his gloved fingers as he weakly chewed on his food.

“I’ll take the first round tonight,” Hunter muttered, mostly for himself.

Crosshair slowly got up from his seat, putting his ration away, trying to avoid the stares. He slid his toothpick between his lips, nibbling a bit harder than usual on the wooden texture. All he had to do was turn around and leave the cockpit. He had done it countless time by the past, what’s one more?

He wanted to lay down and sleep his pain away, get drowned in the pillows and forget all about what happened. He took a few steps, pretended he didn’t flinch when a hand caught his own, but couldn’t bring himself to smile at Omega when she gently rubbed his knuckles.

She didn’t say anything, she simply followed him to the bunk beds. Crosshair could barely look at her, because every time he did he could only see the scared look she gave him when he ordered it.

Aim for the kid.

It was haunting; she was just a child, a mixture of a little sister and a daughter for the Batchers, and he tried to rip that away from them too.

His attention shifted to the beds when he noticed the lights around his. He could also see a glimpse of a plush – oddly familiar – and a soft blanket nicely pulled over the mattress.

“We – she needed a place to sleep, and you were gone so…”

Wrecker, who followed him too, was uncomfortable; he was the one who came up with the idea. As much as he missed Crosshair, he knew he needed to take care of his little one because she was here. But now, Cross was back.

“Keep the bed,” he murmured, “I don’t mind.”

And he meant it. He would have done the same if Wrecker, or Echo or whoever went missing like he had. The kid deserved a comfy place to rest, her life with them already being chaotic enough.

“I can sleep with you, I don’t mind. I can stay at the end of the bed if you’d prefe-”

“It’s fine, Omega.”

He painted a weak, yet gentle smile on his face, hoping for it to convince her. It did, because she nodded and held his arm against her for a few seconds as to hug it. Wrecker – and Echo later that night – offered him to sleep in their bed. “I can sleep with Tech if you want it all for yourself” the 501st vet assured him. But Crosshair declined each time, pretending that he would probably not sleep anyway tonight, just tonight, because he needed to get used to this place again.

In a way, it was true. He needed time to find his footing here, to get back to the way things used to be.

Don’t pretend it will go back to ‘how it used to be’. It could never.

When everyone headed to bed, Hunter returned to the cockpit and found the sniper sitting on his own.

“I’ll take the first round, Crosshair. Go get some sleep.”

“I don’t have a bed,” he barely confessed, his usual sarcastic tone nowhere to be found.

“Take mine for now, I don’t need it before a few hours. Don’t discuss it,” he pursued when Crosshair tried to reply, “I’m not giving you a choice.”

It took him a second to realise how clumsy it sounded, but Crosshair spared him the embarrassment of an apology when he got up and nodded.

“Alright, sorry.”

Hunter grabbed his shoulder, unsure about his next move, but trying anyway.

“It’s…We can’t pretend nothing happened, but we’ll work through this. All of us,” and when he heard Crosshair’s heart pumping harder and his breath getting heavier, he added, “as a family.” Before letting go of him.

Crosshair couldn’t even speak anymore. If he tried, all that would come out would be confused babbling and an awkward throat clearing. He hoped on his brother’s heightened senses to read through him like an open book, throwing back one last look before he got back to the bunk beds. All the Batchers were already sleeping, peacefully wrapped in their blankets or holding their plushie against their chest. He sat on the edge of Hunter’s bed, his blacks still on, eyes locked on the soft lights emanating from his old bed.

Hunter woke up when he felt a soft weight landing on his lap. The smell got him almost immediately, a mixture of gunpowder and iron.

“You should have surrendered.”

His eyes shifted to the slim shadow standing a few steps away, lurking on him with cold determination.

“Crosshair?” He looked down at the soft plush laying on him. Lula. Her head was almost ripped in half by a now barely fuming hole. He couldn’t hide the fear splashing his eyes, neither could he refrain his voice from breaking when he asked “what did you do?”

“I did what had to be done. This is why they put me in charge to track you. I’m efficient.”

Hunter shivered at the sick smile he could hear in Crosshair’s voice. His thoughts ran from the plush to Omega, to the bunk beds at the end of the hallway, to his brothers left unarmed at the mercy of a sniper who had none.

“You should have killed me in that depot.”

“Crossha-”

A quick thud filled the cockpit as a red, bright light stroked Hunter right through the chest. He fell back into his seat, unable to breathe, but way too aware of the burn on his skin, of the nerves flaming up under the chock and the heat, of his heart rapidly pulsing then slowing down in a macabre countdown. He got dizzy, eyes blurring out despite his desperate attempt to get them focused.

He struggled to keep his head up, until a gloved hand grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up. He could guess the shapes of the helmet, the green and grey shades melting altogether as his eyes barely held open. As he felt his own heart stop, his last breath making him chock, he heard his brother’s voice taunting him, one last time.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

Pitch black. This is all Crosshair could see when he abruptly opened his eyes. The blanket was rolled up at his feet, his blacks soaked in sweat, and his head aching. A sudden terror grasped him as he held his temple, tripping off the bed as he tried to get up, muttering Hunter’s name. He choked up on the syllables when he realised he was sleeping in his brother’s bed, while the tracker was nowhere to be found. He found himself struggling for air, the same way he would if someone stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. He dragged himself to the refresher, locking the door as soon as he got in.

The bright light forced him to close his eyes for a few seconds, but once he got used to it he reached the tap. His hands, usually so precise and steady, where uncontrollably shaking, to the point of him getting cramps.

The cold water did nothing to help; he shivered to the wet contact, lightly gasping when he splashed his face, but did it again, and again, trying to wash off the pain of his body.

Did I killed them? Did I? What if I did, what will I do, what if I killed them, I can’t- I can’t lose them, not again, not this way, I-

His head was buried in his hands, and it demanded all his strength for him to look up in the mirror. He quickly regretted doing so.

He hated those scars. Mostly, what they represented, what they meant.

It means you tried to get them burned alive; you ordered for them to be burned alive by an active propeller. This is what they mean, this is what you did.

He hated his reflection, lurking and haunting him the same way his memory did. A phantom pain none of them could imagine.

You like to pretend they don’t get it, but they do. Their own brother tried to kill them. You did that, Crosshair; don’t put the blame on your victims.

“Kriff,” he bitterly chuckled, tears burning his eyes.

You did this to yourself. Take some responsibilities.

He tried to maintain eye contact with himself, fingers gripped so tight around the edge of the sink he could feel his muscles quiver. He didn’t have a choice, he knew that. The chip forced him, the Empire used him to do these terrible things.

If a gloved hand kills you, will you blame the glove, or the hand?

You’re the hand, Crosshair. Nothing you will ever say or do will change that.

Nothing.

“Shut the kriff up,” he gave up, angrily pushing himself away from the sink, but still catching a glimpse of tears running down his cheeks before he turned his head, defeated. “Keep the snide to yourself.”

He jolted when someone softly knocked on the door. He took a few deep breaths to calm down his pumping heart, wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, and opened the door.

“I didn’t find you in the bed,” Hunter explained while analysing his expression, “I thought you’d be in here.”

“I can take the next round.” Crosshair calmly responded.

“Mine’s not done yet.”

“Hunter, please I- let me take the next round.”

He couldn’t say which of the two, his muffled “please” or his begging eyes, convinced Hunter; but it worked and that was enough for him. He didn’t flinch this time, when his brother gently patted his arm; he even wished for a quick, warm embrace. But he doubted Hunter was ready to get affectionate with him so easily. Truth be told, he didn’t feel that comfortable either. It was a crave he couldn’t fill.

He still cracked a weak smile as Hunter nodded and returned to his bed to get some rest.

Crosshair dragged himself to the cockpit, his stomach twisting at the sight of the empty seat on his right. He fell into his own, a long sigh slipping from his lips.

Don’t fall asleep.

#I hope you're sad now #I am #crosshair feels #crosshair #tbb fic #the bad batch writing #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #angst #Sad Hour for Crosshair #poor lil sniper #mesa writes #sad crosshair #sad batch

106 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Never Satisfied [Chapter 6]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“I don’t wanna look like this, fuck”

Previously on Never Satisfied:

Digital Checkpoint activated. Reply to save progress. 💜 — Cora

With minimal contemplation he replies seconds later.

Corpse: save

Cora: your progress has been saved. Thank you for choosing A.S.S. - the Automated Save System. You are now free to activate the digital checkpoint at any time.

Cora: I had a nice time. Text me whenever you need to. We’ll hang out again soon, deal?

Corpse: thank you

Cora: anytime sugar ;)

Funny how a text exchange so simple and short can turn so much around for a person. Funny how a huge weight lifts off him the second he locks his phone, suddenly finding it easier to breathe, to move, to blink, to function - to live. She gives him that kick he needs to be reminded to live and not just be alive. He’s still not comfortable with how much he’s relying on her but seeing her effect on him is nothing but positive, the most and best thing he can do for himself is go with the flow and let things happen. No overthinking, no planning, no shooting guesses, just facing things as they come face-to-face with him. He may never get used to it, but he won’t know that until he tries, will he?

* * *

Corpse sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s been trying to step up a little with the dressing game since he’ll be having a special guest over - ok, truth be told, he didn’t invite her, she invited herself but he’s glad she did. Lord knows he wants her company and wants her around but he could never bring himself to invite her over or initiate a hangout. Good thing Cora doesn’t expect anything from him, not of that nature at least. It’s oddly amazing having a person like her - someone who basically reads his mind like an open book and then takes action according to what she’s read. It’s not only the fact that she accurately gauges all his wants and needs, but also how she knows exactly what to do to satisfy them. To calm him down, to relieve his anxiety, to make him feel comfortable. He feels strangely selfish for always being on the receiving end of this friendship, although he doesn’t see much he could do for her. He’s decided to let time have full control of the course of their relationship, hoping his giver time would come soon.

As of now, however, it still hasn’t and he can stomach that.

It’s been about a week and a half since their first hangout but he hasn’t missed her once. That may be due to how much they’ve been texting ever since he unlocked that checkpoint she offered him. To be more specific, it probably has something to do with the fact that her texts are always so full of life and light, sounding almost like she’s there with him, talking in her signature upbeat and bubbly way which is such a contrast to his own melancholic approach to any conversation ever.

She’s also sent him a ton of memes and selfies, plus pictures she took of clients’ pets. In return for her kindness, he’s sent her bad jokes, weird internet articles about ghosts and pictures of the current game he was playing. Needless to say, their chats have been very colorful.

Now that the scene has been set up a little better, a direct timeline of events lading up to this one would be appreciated, wouldn’t it? Ok so, it all started with an “I’m bored” text Corpse received from Cora about two hours ago. Instinctively, and partially because he didn’t have any idea what else he could possibly say in response to that he sent back an apology. An apology Cora apparently deemed a loophole she could use to invite herself over cause that’s exactly what she did, not that Corpse minds it much. In fact, he felt his heartbeat quicken with excitement when her “K then, I’ll be there in a bit :)” text came in. At first he thought it was his anxiety kicking in but when he realized the rest of his typical symptoms remained absent it took him a little while to pinpoint what that emotion could be.

The epiphany came in the form of the word ‘excitement’.

Regardless of the newfound feeling, or maybe exactly because of it, he attempted to protest. A protest she killed easily with a threatening “I know where you live” text which sent Corpse scrambling to get the apartment in some kind of order. Himself too, it’s safe to say he wasn’t looking the most presentable when he received that message.

His cleaning session consisted mostly of him shoving the strewn about items in his closet and closing it shut like a wild beast dwelled inside, placing a chair in front of the door as a sign for her not to open it and also as a way of preventing the thing from opening on its own because of how overflowing it was.

Afterwards he scrambled into the shower to scrub himself down. It’d been too much for him to tackle given he wasn’t doing too well mentally, but considering he was now suddenly expecting company he thought it’d be for the best not to subject his new friend to the three-day-unshowered Corpse stank.

Right now, his main focus is his face, his stomach sinking at the sight of himself in the mirror’s reflection.

How does she even want to see me?

His mirror is cracked along the right side, spider web-like cracks reaching towards the center of it from the impact point serving as a reminder of a particularly bad night he’d rather forget.

He sighs as he combs his hair, knowing the dark curls won’t oblige and behave no matter how much he tries. He touches his jaw, deciding to let himself off the hook by deeming that a shave wouldn’t be necessary for at least another day. And then his eyes land on his clothes - an outfit it didn’t take him long to put together since those are the only articles of clothing in his closet he’d consider presentable enough to be shown off in front of a new friend who is yet to find out how much of a slob he really is. That clothing choice consists of a black button-up shirt and jeans.

This is nice, right? It’s fine. It’s business casual but definitely leaning more towards casual, as some would say. I look...nice, decent. I’ll take it - it’s enough. Far better than my ‘usual’.

A knock at the door startles him, though it’s quickly followed by a voice he’s grown to find very endearing:

“THIS IS THE COPPAS! OPEN UP YA’ DOOR!” The voice yells out, probably loud enough for the whole complex to hear but it’s not like he gives a shit. And, as context clues show, neither does she.

Corpse exits his bathroom, heading for the front door, pulling the chain off and unlocking the deadbolt before opening it. The object of his newfound affection stands on the other side, grinning and beaming with that usual light she has surrounding her. Her hair is thrown up into a messy bun - a hairstyle she seems to love - and she’s wearing a simple red t-shirt covered in little chubby, cartoonish black cats that seem to be struggling to exist.

He smiles a little, finding it in himself to speak up but when he opens his mouth to do so, she cuts him off.

“Jesus, did you just come back from a funeral?” She asks, pulling at one of the buttons on his chest as she walks past him, letting herself in.

His eyes, completely on their own accord, wander down as she walks on by, causing him to swallow hard as he finds himself staring at a pair of tanned legs, patterned by the fishnets she’s wearing, leading up to a pair of short black shorts.

She turns on her heel about halfway down the hall, leading him to take an inevitable notice of how her well-loved boots could use a polish. Anyhow, he snaps his gaze away to hide the fact he’s been gawking, despite not really meaning to.

“No, but for real, why are you wearing that? You seem super confined and uncomfy, bud.”

Corpse blinks before swallowing and glancing down at himself, pulling at the button she touched before looking back up, his gaze traveling up the length of her legs. She has suspenders hanging over her thighs, more of an accessory than a necessary addition to her outfit. “I just...I dunno, I thought it looked nice. Does it not? I mean, I wouldn’t know, really. I don’t usually dress like this.”

“I mean, you look dapper as fuck but if you’re not comfortable then change, get your comfy game on. I’m the last person you need to impress in this world.”

God, she sees right through him. Even so, he considers protesting, trying to convince it’s all fine, that he likes this shirt and the outfit in its entirety. But her stare sets the record straight for him - she’ll know it’s all lies. And with that in mind, he lets his shoulders fall. Not a full second passes before he promptly starts undoing his buttons.

“Oh, thank fuck.” She comments as he goes to retreat into his room, stripping the shirt off as he walks, unaware of her lingering eyes on his back, unaware of her lower lip bitten between her pearly teeth. Unaware of the subtle shift in her stance as she looks him over much like he did her moments earlier.

When he returns a moment later in a simple dark grey t-shirt, she greets him with a grin and pats his chest. “Much better.”

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to crash on his couch, throw on a bad movie and just sit in comfortable silence. Comfortable silence - something that usually eats away at him and is anything but comfortable he now sees as calming, a soothe to his ever-racing mind.

Disrespecting the movie, Corpse takes to analyzing his guest instead. She has so much confidence, he can’t help but notice, like she’s been here hundreds of times, known him for so long. He hates her a little for it. Well, it’s not quite hate, it leans more toward envy. Jealousy. That human-nature characteristic of wanting what someone else has but you desperately need/wish you had. In his mind, she’s almost selfish: Why couldn’t she share some of that confidence and carefree manner with the rest of the world? It oozes out of her like a drip of honey from a beehive, sweet and warm. And all he wants yet has none of.

He instinctively tenses up as he feels her move closer before, suddenly, her head drops into his lap, legs kicked over the armrest of the couch. He holds his breath almost subconsciously, staring at her as she remains focused on the television. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he puts one across the back of the couch and the other awkwardly bent above his head. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea if he touches her. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep nor does he want to overstep any of her boundaries, despite the fact she’s walking a dangerous line of overstepping his. Well, that would’ve been the case if this was done by anyone but her. The way Corpse comes to this realization is when he figures out that he really doesn’t mind this proximity, as long as he doesn’t embarrass himself or creep her out in any way.

What felt like an eternity passes before she finally speaks up, still without looking away from the movie playing on the screen opposite the couch, “You know, I can feel how tense you are.”

His face flushes with embarrassment, heating up as his mind immediately goes to the worst possible outcome of this situation.

She’ll probably sit up, or leave, he thinks to himself, heart thumping in his ears as he tries to observe her face the best he can from this angle. Nevertheless, he swallows that fear as she rolls her head to look up at him with those large glittering doe eyes, grinning a bit as she seems to always do, “You can just put your hands wherever it’s comfortable for you. I don’t mind.”

He hesitates for a moment but, as always, he doesn’t get much say cause she makes the choice for him, knowing that pesky fear is keeping him immobile. She takes the hand from over his head and pulls it down to rest just next to her skull. She then drags the one resting at the back of the couch, placing it so his hand is resting dead-center on her stomach. Satisfied with how she’s rearranged his posture, she goes back to watching the movie but not before asking: “This okay?” while looking at him through her peripheral vision.

He’d have to admit it’s far more comfortable like this.

“Yeah, it’s fine. You’re okay?” He asks, feeling relieved when he feels her nod against his leg.

He moves his hand a little and swallows hard as he contemplates if he really should make the move he’s thinking of at the moment. And then he abruptly decides not to think. So, instead, he acts on it.

Without thinking of any potential negative consequences, Corpse slides his fingers to lace with hers, resting their conjoined hands on her stomach in the same spot where she left his hand a bit ago. She curls her digits around his tighter as reassurance that it’s ok. Her palm feels warm in his hand, her thumb tracing his cold metal rings.

Checkpoint...his checkpoint.

Is this what it feels like to be normal?, he wonders, Is this what it feels like to really connect with someone? He has never felt this before. He’s never met someone who has such an effect on him, understand him like this - Without even having to ask she grounded him; she knew what he needed and didn’t make him feel like an idiot about it. Instead she gave him the comfort he needed.

And suddenly he finds himself afraid - realizing that this isn’t simply a vibe of two buddies hanging out. He has that subtle ache in his chest that’s telling him he wants something…something substantial from this friendship. He wants this to last, or for it to blossom, he’s not sure yet. But for the first time, he doesn’t feel the overwhelming need to figure it out. That’s one of the many effects this girl has on him - she’s the definition of improvisation, unpredictable and alive. He’s slowly learning to let loose himself, all thanks to her. Slowly, he’s learning to trust time.

He abruptly realizes he’s glancing at her often as the movie is still running, examining her features and slowly running his gaze down the length of her fishnet-clad thighs before quickly looking away, mentally scolding himself. It’s hard, but he manages to turn his gaze elsewhere for his sake and hers. For the sake of keeping things normal, platonic and not in any way awkward for either of them. The last thing he needs is to make things weird by letting his mind wander and activate his libido and then she’d really notice how tense he is.

Cora remains oblivious to what’s going on in his head, thank God, as she continues running her thumb across his knuckles, eyes half lidded in calm content - something that’d typically seem like the complete opposite of what she is. He likes seeing her like this, tamed almost. He feels like no one else has had the privilege to see this calm side of her. Maybe that’s not the truth - it probably isn’t - but he still feels special, knowing that it’s a tight circle of people who have seen her this way.

And then he realizes the movements of her thumb on his hand have stopped.

He freezes for a moment, his fearful gaze travelling to her face where he’s relieved to find her eyes closed only seconds before he hears a light snore escape her.

She’s fallen asleep.

It’s an odd scene. She’s such a wild and free spirit, seeing her fall asleep like this is like observing an abnormality, a paranormal event. You know, like something one doesn’t usually believe exists or is capable of happening. He’d never before been able to imagine her asleep. It’s ridiculous, he’s aware - she’s human after all, but his mind has never been able to comprehend the thought and image of her captured by the power of sleep. He simply couldn’t see it happening. But now that it’s happened in front of him, he can’t look away from the sight of her relaxed, peaceful features, overcome by sudden slumber.

And then he comes to the realization that he’s now practically held hostage on his own couch, crippled by the danger of waking her up. It’s gonna be a long while, isn’t it, he thinks to himself, yet there’s still a satisfied smile on his face. A smile that’s a result of knowing he’s held hostage by her. That’s more a blessing than a curse, if he’s being honest.

@fockingwhore @vixenl @annshit @wineandionysus @wiseflamingoqueen

56 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Hop

A: Aftercare (What they do/act like after sex)

After sex, Hop and you will lie there for a good few minutes to catch your breath and let the sensitivity die down- whether it be a quickie, rough and passionate, or slow and sensual- you two are going to at least get a few minutes of rest before he starts to clean around. He’ll do his best to move you into a more comfortable position, clean fluids that may have spilled, brush away at sweat and fixing your hair- its light care that isn’t too heavy. Unless it was a particularly rough session, then he’ll put on aloe vera or soothing cream.

B: Body part (Their favorite body parts of their partners)

He loves your neck. He just likes to pepper kisses against it or hide into the soft curve of your neck. It’s a weird fascination with it- he just likes your neck. On a more sexual aspect, he loves to leave it marked or see a bulge against it when you swallow him.

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

It’s a pleasant taste; a slightly salty aftertaste but nothing harsh on the tongue. He prefers to have you painted in his seed rather than have you swallow it or inside of you. Even just ejaculating onto your intimates will be enough for him to pleasure himself throughout the next few days. There’s something so pleasing about him seeing your body coated in his seed.

D: Dirty Secret

Hop’s dirty secret is him pleasuring himself while you slept. He woke up rather needy and he didn’t want to bother you so he took to his phone, found a few pictures that you had sent him accompanied with dirty talk, and pleasured himself. He hadn’t told you and often still does this next to you. He enjoys the feeling of doing something rather taboo next to you.

E: Experience (How experienced are they?)

He isn’t experienced. He has a few experiences under his belt but it’s nothing enough to let him know what he’s doing without constantly checking on his partner. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for his eagerness and desire to learn. He knows how to pleasure you and will allow you to guide him while he holds a flustered face and shaky hands.

F: Fantasy (A fantasy of theirs)

His fantasy is taking you away to a remote part of the region, let it just be the two of you and your team and have no worries of responsibilities while you two share a week together. He doesn’t want disruptions, he just wants to spend some time with you uninterrupted and let the weekend fly by with various activities and things that you two normally couldn’t in a more populated area.

G: Got Caught (How they react when they get caught having sex)

He gets incredibly flustered. He will cease his movements and depending on the position you both are in, he’s covering your body and throwing a blanket, pillow, or shirt over your body and hide your face. He doesn’t want to be caught and he certainly doesn’t want people to see you in a way only he is supposed to.

H: (Are they groomed down there? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

He’s groomed. He doesn’t keep a close cut nor is he shaved but he does keep it trimmed. The hair is a slightly paler color, nothing too noticeable unless you’re really looking at it.

I: Intimacy (How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex)

Being intimate with Hop has a high chance of him pulling out all the stops on trying to set the mood. He’s focusing on your pleasure first, trying to work you up while letting his hands wander back to himself on the occasion. During sex, it depends on the type of sex, most of the time, its semi-romantic, compliments and soft touches, but after sex is less so. It’s a tiresome activity and after you both are clean, he’ll either hold your hand for rest or kiss you quickly if you two need to part ways.

J: Journey (Their ideal way of leading up to sex)

He has no ideal way to lead up to it but most of the time, it does start with a trail of kisses against your face that lead to your neck and suckle on the soft spot with wandering hands that cup at your chest.

K: Kinks

A kink he was rather hesitant to share with you but was incredibly excited to partake on was bondage. He was excited to see you tied up and blindfolded, to have a sense lost but the others amplified- even if it’s only by a few, but to see you struggle and hear your ragged breathing, it just does something to him. He likes having you at his control, to see you whine under him and struggle against the bonds.

L: Location (Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.)

He prefers sex to be in private. As long as it’s inside the safety of a home without the risk of intrusion, he is happy having you anywhere. He rather not have sex in a risky situation because he doesn’t want people walking in and seeing something they shouldn’t have.

M: Masturbation (How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to)

Hop masturbates frequently. He has a high sex drive and if you’re tired out, he doesn’t want to overdo it unless he has your consent. But most of the time, he just prefers to relieve himself either next to you or before he comes to see you. It’s a nice stress reliever.

N: No (A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do)

He won’t degrade you. He isn’t a fan of humiliation or degradation and no matter the amount of pleading, he won’t do it. He doesn’t like seeing you in distress that isn’t one with a nervous smile. He wants to know that you’re having fun with him rather than crying or gasping for breath.

O: Oral (Do they like to give or receive? Are they skilled?)

He prefers to receive. He’ll happily give- he’ll get on his knees and nuzzle his face into your sex, but he’ll want to be on the receiving end. He likes seeing you on your knees, worshiping his cock, pressing wet kisses against him and moan around him. However, if gives, he is skilled. He’ll listen to what you want, remember what you like and stay in a constant pace until you’re creaming against his face.

P: Position (Their favorite position to have sex in)

He likes having you from behind. He wants to have your back pressed against his chest, a slender hand cupping at your breasts, nipples played with as he kisses and sucks on your neck.

Q: Quickie (Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.)

While Hop wouldn’t say no to a quickie, he doesn’t prefer them. He wants the actual act of sex and while a quickie is fun for the roughness of it and the giddiness that comes with it, he wants the long process of it where he can take his time and make both of you feel good.

R: Rough (How rough they are, or get, when in bed)

Hop can get rather rough. He isn’t one to manhandle you but he will push you against a wall, hold you by the neck roughly and soothe it over with kisses, and nip around your body enough to leave marks that will last for only a few days. He won’t be rough with you to make you cry but he will want to see with a bit of glossy eyes or shaking body.

S: Stamina (How long they can go before they tap out)

He can last for a rather long time. He has enough stamina to go on until you’re shaking around him and having your eyes roll to the back of your head or have them begin to droop. If you can’t last as long as he can, he won’t pressure you to continue and will relieve himself and take care of you.

T: Toys (Do they use toys, do they own them, what kind, etc.)

Oddly enough, he doesn’t use toys. He isn’t a fan of the feeling of them- the texture of it throws him off and he doesn’t like them as much as it’s a hassle to clean. He does own one fleshlight that he hardly uses. He will use toys on you however, just to stimulate a further response from you.

U: Unfair (How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.)

He loves to tease you. He likes seeing you squirm and beg for him to continue, to have that breathless look and see your face deepen in color with hands that go to grab onto him. His teasing comes off with him teasing around your entrance, circling it with his tongue before actually dipping inside of you. He likes to restrict a bit of your orgasm, pulling away before you actually get to taste it. he won’t tease you for long, only withhold the orgasm and more sensual touches until he’s close so he can see you and feel you tighten around him.

V: Volume (How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.)

Hop can control his volume. Due to living arrangements, he can stay to quiet whimpers and muffled moans against your lips or go into loud moans that echo in the room. Most often, when he leads to the actual act of orgasm, his moans grow breathy and he’s panting against you, murmuring your name and groaning out in pleasure.

W: Wild Card (Random sin-canon of any sort)

He’s cried during sex. While his stamina is high, he still has sensitivity and if you let him continue until he’s fully satisfied and shooting blanks, there is a high chance that his eyes will water and he’ll murmur your name as he reaches his high for the final time, letting tears slip out as he gets this faraway look on his face.

X: X-Ray (How they look with their clothes off)

He’s rather lean. He has a hint of muscle on his abdomen and arms that bulge a bit but he isn’t exactly built enough to be muscular. His cock is a rather good length, standing at seven inches when aroused with a good girth around it but he is more of a “length” person rather than girth.

Y: Yearning (How often they need to have sex)

He’ll need sex at least three times a week but due to his stamina, he can have sex more frequently than that. There are times that he doesn’t really need sex so often but he likes the act of it and if you happen to be in a heat type situation, then he can have sex whenever you want to.

Z: ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep after having sex)

Hop will take a bit of rest after sex but enough for it to just regain a bit of energy so he can clean you and then himself. Once that is done, he’ll sleep fairly quickly. His stamina is depleted after sex and he’ll just go to sleep with you close by. If the sex wasn’t strenuous, then he can stay up for a few minutes to talk or bring you a light snack to regain some type of energy.

#hop x reader #swsh hop x reader #pokemon hop x reader #pokemon hop #pokemon hop headcanons #hop headcanons #im sorry this is so late #oh my god #time #was not friendsly today #i swear im awfu;#christ lmao #sorry!!#this is my first time for him btw so i hope you liked it or at least saw it in character!

59 notes · View notes

barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

Trust Me

Summary: Rafael’s First case since coming home has Rebecca antsy, but it also gives them a way to tell people about Catalina.

Pairings: Rafael Barba x OC

A/N: Is this a series? Sure? I can’t stop won’t stop. This one comes before the Valentine’s One Shot

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - This one - Part Five (Valentine’s)

“It’s just a meeting,” Rafael whispered, curled beside Rebecca in bed. He’d gone back to his apartment to get more clothes, but for the most part, Rafael hadn’t left Rebecca’s side since spending Christmas Eve with her and Catalina. He liked the mornings most. They would both wake up before Catalina, laying in bed and playing with each other’s hair and chatting about what the day would hold. She’d kissed him in front of Catalina the day before, and the little girl barely noticed. He was getting excited for Rebecca to go back to work as it neared because he’d get to spend days he wasn’t in court or meeting with inmates taking care of Catalina.

“I’m just nervous. You’ve changed. I’ve been able to tell, but it’s only been a week and a half.”

“I know. But I’m not jeopardizing all of this. I might take defense work. I told you that and Olivia knows that.”

“Promise you’ll keep being communicative?”

“I swear to you, Becca. I know it’ll take time for you to feel like I’m not lying.”

“I don’t think you’re lying,” she murmured, propping her chin in her hand to watch him. “I just gotta get used to non-workaholic Rafael.”

“Now I’m sappy family man Rafael, apparently. I’ll be a house husband if that’s what makes things work best.”

She grinned, kissing him softly. It had been nice to see him like this, content to stay home and be together. For once, he wasn’t chasing success, trying to prove he deserved everything he’d gotten. What had been exceptionally nice was seeing him more emotional than she thought he’d be. They’d watched Up, and he’d laid back on the couch and cried throughout the emotional parts, sniffing and pretending he hadn’t when Catalina mentioned it.

“Mama? Mr. Barba?” they heard echo from down the hall, and Rafael smiled softly. He’d been there ten mornings now, but this was the first one she expected to see him.

“Let’s go get the kiddo,” she grinned, kissing his temple.

“She called for me too,” he said proudly, slipping into his sweats. When they got to her room, Catalina climbed out of the bed, sticking her arms up. Rafael picked her up happily, bouncing her on his hip.

“Morning mija,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“Morning Mr. Barba.”

“I have to work today. Can you keep an eye on mami?”

“Si! Does that mean you have to go home?”

“No. I’ll be back for dinner. I promise.” He gave Rebecca a meaningful look she knew meant I really will be here for dinner this time, and she hoped it was true. Rebecca took Catalina downstairs to make breakfast, and Rafael showered and dressed. It was oddly soothing to see him in the pink and blue shirt and jeans, casual coat slung over his shoulder and casual shoes in hand. She relaxed when she saw him, and he smiled softly.

As promised, he was home that night in time for dinner, and though he looked tired, he looked content still. They ate together, moving to the living room. He worked on the couch as Catalina played and Rebecca folded laundry. It made more sense why she just wanted him there now. Maybe he wasn’t paying them active attention, but he was there to watch Catalina dance through the room or help Rebecca tote the laundry basket. He could almost understand why his presence made her happy.

“I’m shaving before jury selection,” he told her, legal pad on the arm of the couch, Catalina having fallen asleep with her head on his lap. The pen in his hand hovered over the page, and he knew the nonchalance was feigned.

“No,” Rebecca whined softly, and Rafael couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned into her touch as she scratched along his jaw.

“Clean shaven men are perceived as more friendly and more sociable. I don’t need unconscious biases added to my personality.”

“I don’t like defense work now.”

“I think I can pull it off when it isn’t such a controversial case.”

“We’ll be telling her the truth tomorrow then. Beard’s the only thing keeping you incognito.”

“Are you okay with that? I can stay at my house.”

“No, I’m okay with it. I trust you. I wanted to wait longer, but you’re doing really well. You’re an amazing secret dad, and I know you’re not going anywhere.” He nodded, going back to work again. Rebecca sat in an armchair, notebook of plans for when school started again in her lap. It was more peaceful than it had ever been to be home with him as he worked. He hummed softly, hand not writing staying on Catalina’s side. When he came to bed, his beard was gone, and he seemed more self conscious than she expected.

“She’s going to know you’re her dad now,” Rebecca said, fingers trailing his jaw. “You look exactly the same.”

“I look older now,” he pouted. “My suits are mostly too small now too.”

“You’re just as hot, Rafi. Beard or no beard. And I like the little bit of weight. You’re so handsome. Total DILF.”

“Dios mio,” he said, rolling his eyes. “DILF? Really?”

“Do I gotta remind you, counsellor?” He groaned softly as she pulled him in, and he let her remind him. In fact, he was lucky enough to wake up to sleepy kisses and an eagerness to remind him again. As they laid together catching their breath, Rafael peppered kisses to her shoulder. This was a much better way to spend the morning before court than running out the door and eating a danish frantically as he walked from his office. Who’d have thought a five o’clock wake up could always be so enjoyable?

“We’ll miss you today,” Rebecca whispered, brushing his hair back.

“I’ll miss you both. You certainly gave me a lovely wake up call, mami.”

“Mmm, can you blame me, papi? Getting to see you every day?” He chuckled when he heard movement down the hall, tossing her his shirt as he pulled on his sweats.

“Mija’s up.”

“We’ll see how long before she guesses.” They made their way to her room, and their question was quickly answered when a wide awake Catalina examined Rafael’s face seriously. She seemed unsure, arms crossed.

“Good morning mija,” he said softly, and it seemed to connect he was Mr. Barba was the beardless man in her room. She climbed from the bed, going to her book case where the little photo album sat. It held pictures of Al and Rodney, Rebecca, and Catalina as she grew up, but it also held the picture of Rafael that Rebecca used to talk about him.

“Mr. Barba looks like daddy. Is he daddy?” Rebecca didn’t know what to say. She’d thought it might be the end of the day before pieces were strung together, but Rafael dropped to sit on the ground.

“I am your daddy,” he said softly. “I wanted to let you know me first before we told you.”

“Where were you?”

“I was working a long way away. I couldn’t be here, but I am now. And I’ll never go away, mija. I like being your daddy too much.”

“Do I hafta call you Mr. Barba?”

“No.”

“How do you say daddy in spanish?”

“Papi.”

“Can we make cinnamon rolls, papi?”

“Yeah, of course,” he whispered, eyes watering as he pulled her in close for a hug. Rebecca hadn’t expected it to go so well, but she should have known Catalina was both too young to really get he’d been gone and too happy to have Rafael, her father or not, around to really care. “Papi has to shower. Is it okay if mami helps with cinnamon rolls, and I’ll help ice them?”

“That’s okay,” she nodded, kissing his cheek. Catalina went to get her bear, and Rebecca kissed Rafael sweetly. He squeezed her hand, happy tears still in his eyes as he smiled at her. As quickly as he could, he showered and dressed, jacket, socks, and shoes on the couch as he held Catalina on his hip and helped her ice the cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven.

Rebecca had already noticed in the two days of this trial that Rafael was making home and work boundaries. Once he got home, he’d immediately hang his jacket and take off his shoes, ready to talk about the day. They ate together happily, and she knew this was going to be a late night. He’d told her he was going for jury nullification, and in the biggest change, he’d explained the process to her and what it meant. She had an idea of why he’d be late and how much of the day would be spent charming and selecting a jury.

“Hey,” she answered when he called at lunch.

“Hey. I just wanted to hear your voice.” He sounded tired, but also happy to be back in court in New York.

“Yeah? Got spoiled being home, huh?”

“Yeah. How’s Cat?”

“She’s really good. Al stopped by to talk about the first day back. She told him all about how much fun she’s been having with papi.”

“I bet he loved that.”

“You’re growing on him. I tell him every time you do good stuff. And you haven’t really done anything bad.”

“You gossip about me?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Al’s been through too much with me. But he can see you’re different too.”

“Fair. Can I start gossiping with Rodney?”

“Honestly, yeah. You two will probably end up pretty close.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He had to figure out how to share and all that stuff too. I think that’s why Al can accept your change. His husband had to grow. Rodney was really guarded.”

“I just want to come be with my girls.”

“We’ll be here, Raf. Cat may be asleep when you get home, but I’ll put french toast casserole in the fridge. Stick it in the oven in the morning so we get family time.”

“I can’t wait. I have to go back in. Te amo, mi corazón.”

“I love you, Rafi.”

He came home that night, laying his jacket over the back of the couch and taking off his shoes. Rebecca had been in the kitchen, and she leaned over the back of the couch to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He put his hands on her forearms, smiling when she pressed a kiss against his temple.

“Long day?”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, closing his eyes as his head leaned back. “I got a good jury though. And Carisi has become a great attorney. I’m proud of him.”

“Tell him that.”

“He won’t believe me.”

“Could mean something.”

“He’s going black and white. That’s the only thing that worries me.”

“Maybe talk to him when there’s some time between you and the trial?”

“I may do that. I’ve gotten relaxed. I don’t think he knows how to handle it. Don’t get me wrong, I was charming their asses off, but I took my jacket off and rolled up my sleeves in the courtroom. But Carisi was on top of it. He’s going to do great tomorrow. I’m a little bit worried.”

“Good. You’re even more charming. Plus hot,” she teased, pouring him a drink. “It sounds like you did a great job helping Carisi along. He’s probably grateful. This trial will throw him off too, going up against his mentor. But, you need to eat, counsellor. I kept you a plate warm.”

“You’re so good to me,” he groaned.

“I love you,” she shrugged, handing him the plate and sitting beside him on the couch. “I like taking care of you.”

Each day of the trial continued the same, and it let Rebecca know she could breathe. He’d have breakfast with them before leaving. At lunch he’d call to check in. Trial days were nicer because he’d walk in just in time for dinner, insisting he get to do the bedtime routine since he hadn’t gotten any time with Catalina that day. Catalina asked about him throughout the day, but after he came home the second day, she also seemed to really trust papi would come home. They’d accepted it was time to move his things to her apartment, even if he kept his a while longer. It was the last day of the trial when Rafael proposed a change.

“Come by the bar after the case,” he murmured as he tied his tie in the mirror. “I want you to meet them.”

“Even Olivia?”

“Even Olivia. Al’s been dying to babysit. Says I’m taking all the Cat time. Come to the bar, then I’ll take you to a nice dinner. Just us. We haven’t gotten to do that yet.”

“That sounds perfect, Rafael. Do they know about her?”

“Carisi does because he goes to the same church. He saw us on Christmas Eve. Otherwise? No. But I’m fine with telling them. Just not until after the end of today.”

“Fair,” she smiled, kissing him softly. “I love you. I know it hasn’t been an easy case.”

“It’s been fine. He just needs a defense.” She fixed him with a look and he sighed. “I know. I don’t want to unpack that part until after, but you’re right. People taking life into their own hands is personal. I’m sure Liv will bring it up too. You can bond over making me talk about my feelings.”

“You did the right thing.”

“So did he.”

They had breakfast with Catalina, and it was easy enough to get Al to babysit. Have a date with your reformed ex. Rodney and I will have happy uncle time. Per usual, Catalina was ecstatic to pack a bag to spend time with her uncles. She also always took too much, wanting to be sure she had enough toys to share. Always prepared, like her dad. It was Rebecca who always had to run out to buy a toothbrush or deodorant. Facetime us at lunch so she can see you before she goes to Al’s she sent, laid back on the couch with Catalina on her chest. He sent back an affirmative, letting her know deliberation had started and he’d be setting up camp in a coffee shop nearby. Want company?

“Hiya handsome,” she grinned, answering the nearly instantaneous call.

“Hola, hermosa,” he chuckled. “You two don’t have to do that.”

“I can drop her bag with Rodney. Come have lunch with you before I take her to meet Al. He’s taking her to the Z-O-O, so we’d be that way later anyway.”

“I’d love it then.”

“Half an hour?”

“See you then.”

“Hey, Cat,” she grinned, kissing her temple. “Want to go have lunch with papi before you see Uncle Al?”

“Yes!” she squealed, and Rebecca texted Rodney she’d be dropping the bag by. Once they were both dressed, they walked the couple of blocks to pass off the bag before taking a cab to the coffee shop Rafael had sent her the location for. When they were in the door, she let go of Catalina’s hand and watched as she ran to Rafael who had spotted them as soon as they walked in. He had a cup of coffee in front of him, sliding it aside carefully as he settled her on his lap. It made her emotional to see them together. Since the reveal Mr. Barba was actually papi, he’d been in court, and it was nice to get to slip some time into their day. When she sat, she realized he’d gotten her an iced latte, and Rebecca mouthed a thank you. He shot her a smile as Catalina agreed to settle in the seat beside him.

“How are my girls?” he asked, arm slung behind Catalina and a content smile on his face.

“I think we had a good morning! We watched Moana and packed. Cat’s going to go play with Uncle Al and Uncle Rodney tonight.”

“Mija, that sounds like so much fun!”

“It is, papi!”

“Tell Al and Rodney I say hi.”

“I will!” She saw who she now knew was Carisi come in with a blonde, and when he saw the three of them, he gave them both a nod and their space, telling the blonde to get a table on the sidewalk. Al met them at the diner, Catalina hugging and kissing each of her parents before she took his hand. Rebecca had already put on a pretty dress so that she wouldn’t have to go home, and Rafael’s nervous energy made her glad she wouldn’t be leaving him alone.

“I’m fine,” he fibbed after she asked again. She fixed him with a look, and he held her gaze before letting his shoulders slump forward. “Carisi may win. And with what he offered me to make a deal at the start.”

“Oh no.” She reached across the table, hand resting on his wrist, and Rafael Barba suddenly regretted not being more open with her about anything. That light touch relaxed him, reminded him that while Mickey may end up in prison Rafael had done what he was able to do. Maybe things would have ended differently if he’d had it after cases before.

“Yeah. He’s going to be crushed. But, he admitted things he shouldn’t on the stand. Including a lack of regret.”

“So it’s hard to convince anyone its spur of the moment.”

“And you should have seen Carisi laying that out,” he said with a proud glint in his eye.

“You have to tell him you’re proud of him or I will.” He laughed, and Rebecca went to the courthouse with him to hear the verdict. Mickey was found guilty, just as Rafael expected, and she hugged him gently when he came out. The walk to the bar was comfortably silent as he kept her hand in his, and he smiled to see all of them, save Olivia, at the table.

“Who’s this?” Carisi asked, sending him a knowing smile.

“Rebecca. But don’t play dumb,” Rafael said, ordering their usuals.

“Who’s Rebecca?” Amanda asked, and Rebecca chuckled, taking her drink.

“I’m his girlfriend, and he’s horrible at introductions.” Rafael’s mouth became a straight line, and she elbowed him playfully. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

“I’m Amanda. Dominick, Cat, Fin. Liv isn’t here yet.”

“Thank you. I’m glad somebody’ll make introductions.”

“You just wanting to show her off?” Fin joked, and Rafael smiled over at her.

“Maybe. We actually have a sitter, so I’m taking her to dinner.”

“Smoothe, Rafael,” Sonny said plainly as the other three stared. “If I hadn’t been at Christmas Eve mass, I’d be speechless too.”

“You’ve seen the kid?” Amanda asked, and Rebecca was content to watch the chaos. Of course Rafael would drop the fact they have a daughter like that, no back story, no warning. It was very on brand; state the facts and move on. Only this time, he slipped his phone from his pocket and pulled up a picture, one from the other night. A bundled up Catalina was in his lap as they ate, and almost immediately, he swiped to a video of Catalina squealing in delight as he caught her at the end of the slide at the park. Make me fly! she’d giggled, and Rafael lifted her high and walked her to the ladder of the slide to repeat the process.

“We love that park,” the blonde said, and Rebecca was relieved she’d broken the silence. Apparently no one had ever expected to see Rafael in a pullover and messy hair, much less running through a park with a toddler over his head. For all Rollins knew, she’d seen them there and not even recognized him.

“Us too. It’s her favorite. Knows I’ll say no when it’s too cold, but papi’s a sucker.”

“She got her mother’s doe eyes when she wants something,” he said plainly, ordering another drink. Conversation moved to the case, and she leaned against the bar beside Rafael and watched them. He was content, and even though he was more serious with this group, she caught his gentle ribbing and could see his brow wasn’t as furrowed as it always was. When he’d shaved, he mentioned feeling older, but the way he carried himself now seemed so much younger and so much freer.

“Well, I’m going to whisk Rebecca off. Take advantage of date night. Good job Carisi. You’ve turned out to be a damned good attorney. Tell Liv I’m sorry we missed her.” He helped Rebecca into her coat before putting on his own, hand resting on her lower back as he guided her out.

“You do know you need to wait and tell her about Cat.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking at his phone. “She’s almost-”

“Rafa. You already leaving?” Rebecca knew this had to be Olivia, and she suddenly felt very nervous as she looked over to see the woman’s eyes on her.

“Liv,” he smiled softly. “I was worried we’d miss you.”

“This must be Rebecca.”

“I am. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much.”

“He didn’t tell me you two were back together.”

“There’s a lot to it,” he said softly, pulling out his phone. “I cut her off when I left. She tried to tell me, but I found out when I showed up before Christmas Eve. Becs let me come to mass. I never left.”

“Tried to tell you what.” Rafael’s face was focused as he found the album of pictures and videos of Catalina so Rebecca looked at Olivia.

“I was pregnant when he left. Catalina is two and a half. And since Christmas Eve? A total daddy’s girl.” Rafael handed her his phone proudly, having started at the beginning of the album at the picture of him holding Catalina on his hip before mass. Olivia swiped through the pictures, and Rebecca could see her processing much like Al had needed to do. At least Al had known about Catalina.

It didn’t help that she knew no one else tended to see him in jeans, laughing and running and sappy. That was the Rafael that had been reserved for her. They’d seen the snark, the seriousness, the impeccable suits. Hell, how easily he’d transitioned to fatherhood had shocked Rebecca and she’d seen him hiking in upstate New York and jumping into a river in his boxers after she’d dove in. It took almost an hour of goading as she floated in the water to get Rafael Barba to skinny dip, no matter how isolated they were.

“Wow. She looks just like you,” she said, her smile warm. “This is- a lot. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to finish the case. And we hadn’t told her yet. She figured it out when she saw me shaved. Becs had been telling her about me. Had a picture she showed her. I shaved and she asked why Mr. Barba looks like dad, and we told her.”

“You do know this means we all have to go to the park soon?”

“Deal. Amanda gave Becs her number to have a playdate with Jessie and Billie.”

“Carisi can bring his niece. It’ll be a party,” Rebecca teased. “Doesn’t Fin have a grandkid?”

“We have a sitter,” he said, sudden nerves taking over at the idea of bringing the squad and all of their children around. Mami had to meet Catalina first. They’d deal with that when it wasn’t date night. He filed it under For tomorrow. “So we’re going to take advantage of that. It’s good to see you. We’ll have dinner soon, okay?”

“Have a good night, Rafa. It’s nice to meet you, Rebecca.”

Rebecca waved as Olivia ducked into the bar, leaning into Rafael. He kissed the top of her head, arm wrapped around her. Something about his limited circle that remained in New York knowing relaxed him, even if he was nervous at the prospect of meeting all of them at a park. He had friends in Iowa, and the ones he talked to on the phone found out quickly. It was harder here because if something happened, he was afraid having Olivia know would make it worse. Now that she did know, however, he realized it may have been a fear he couldn’t run once he told her. Rafael Barba had been an idiot, and if it weren’t for the Householder case sending him away, Olivia was close to going to find Rebecca herself. He’d been far too mean after, and well aware it was his fuck up. But now, he felt nothing but pride to have shared the news, and he was becoming acutely aware he seemed to be crushing his desire to run much more easily than he’d crushed his ability to share all those years ago.

“What’s going on in there?” she asked as they walked, tapping his temple.

“I’m happy. People knowing feel more solid. I’m not going anywhere, but now I get to tell everybody about her whenever. Have people ask.”

“You get to be Rafael Barba, sappy family man?”

“Yeah,” he said, and the crookedness of his smile and softness of his eyes made her heart flutter. “Everything’s different for me now. And I’ve told people, so they know it’s different. You did enough to change me. Knowing there’s a little girl that calls me papi and wants to be around me? Nothing is ever going to be the same. You changed my world, but now there’s a part of me in her, and no matter what, that part of me is separate and autonomous, and that’s magnificent to know.”

“I love you,” she said plainly, arms wrapping around him as they stopped. There were no other words she could think of, and her eyes were tearing up as she looked up at him. It warmed her heart to see his were too.

“I love you too, Becs.” And with that, she was stretching up to kiss him slowly, hands cupping the back of his neck. He pulled her close, enjoying the time together where he didn’t need to worry about Catalina needing them or walking in and letting out a whine of gross. Parenthood’s only fall back he found was not being able to be affectionate with Rebecca the same way. He supposed it was better sometimes; he certainly had a tendency to try to distract her from whatever he didn’t want to talk about with a searing kiss before shedding clothes. But the part that he didn’t like losing was making out lazily on the couch, having sex without worrying they might get caught, and being affectionate without the risk of jealous little hands tugging at pants legs because Catalina didn’t like not having her parents’ attention. She was smiling up at him when they pulled apart, and when they were led to their booth, he slid into the same side as her, unwilling to give up the closeness.

“Someone didn’t go to sleep,” Al teased the next morning, handing Rafael Catalina’s bag once the little girl had run inside.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rafael said, but his smile gave him away easily. “Rebecca’s getting some rest, or she’d be saying hi.”

“Keep being good to her Rafael. You might just make me like you. You’re making her very happy.”

“Does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

“It means I don’t hate you anymore.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x oc #rafael Barba x reader #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order #writing

31 notes · View notes

modern-inheritance · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Sakura Blossom (Pt 5 of Torin’s Story)

(A/N: Yay! Torin gets a baff, a shave, and a haircut! This is a sort of intermission chapter where Torin starts to drag himself out of the dark place he’s been locked in, physically and mentally, by refreshing his body. That sounds...weird. But yeah lots of descriptions of wet shaving as I warned yesterday.

It’s not the most well received idea, but I’m solid on that Torin’s new haircut is the same Late Season 3!Sokka from Avatar: The Last Airbender. I promise I’m not giving him a man bun. Just a fresh new look and feeling. Anyway, cheers!)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // PART 5 // TBC

~~~

The tight quarters of the bathroom didn’t leave much room to maneuver. Twice Torin nearly fell face first into the frosted glass of the tiny shower stall as he peeled off his grimy prison greys, tripping on the hem of the pants before he caught himself on the sink’s counter. Once fully undressed he opened the door and adjusted the shower’s temperature before gingerly stepping inside and clicking the stall shut behind him.

The sensation of warm water flowing over his skin felt almost foreign. Torin tilted his face upwards to catch the spray, relishing in the tendrils of heat that drained back from his forehead and over his scalp.

The Ward Captain had either left in a hurry, or the bathroom had been stocked before he was brought to his new room. A bottle each of shampoo and conditioner sat on the shower caddy, with a bar of the standard issue strong soap that everyone received in their hygiene kits nestled on a folded washcloth on the shelf beneath.

The runoff from the shampoo stung as Torin splashed another handful of water on his hair to lather it more deeply. The sores scattered across his body protested, the cracked and gashed surfaces of his knuckles screaming as the soap infiltrated every crevice that the injuries created. Instead of avoiding the wounds, Torin took his time with them, ferreting out the embedded grit and scrubbing out damaged and dying tissue to give them a fresh chance to heal in this new, clean environment. Months of dirt, sweat, and blood washed away, leaving his body feeling almost raw in its refreshed state.

A new start, vulnerable as it was.

Wrapped in a towel, Torin stepped out with a billow of steam. The collection of clothes in the dresser was indeed quite varied, from jeans and clean prisoner uniforms to cargo pants, T-shirts, and sport shorts. Feeling overheated from the shower, the young man dressed in only a pair of clean underclothes and shorts before returning to the bathroom.

Tendrils of steam still curled lazily from the open shower door, caressing the ceiling before trickling out into the bedroom. The currents they created bloomed small patches of fog on the mirror, the gentle ebb and flow having drawn Torin’s attention. Curious, yet almost fearful of what he would see, the young man reached out with a dry cloth and wiped down the mirror.

Dark eyes stared back at him, ringed and sunken. His damp hair was still wild and jumbled, matching the rough two inches of snarled beard that covered his lower face. Torin ran his fingers through the scraggled mess of facial hair, tugging on it as if to ensure it was real.

He had never grown a beard outside of prison, and even inside it was managed for minimal hygiene’s sake. Every three months the guards would take him out to shower, then strap him to a chair in the back of the base’s barbershop. A gruff, mute master sergeant would then shave his face and trim his hair till it was just at regulation length before shoving Torin out into the waiting hands of his guards and slamming the door behind him. The whole process was reminiscent of the first two hours of his arrival at Gil’ead as a forced recruit, a whirlwind of activity and movement where he had no choice of where he was going nor when he went there.

The guards hadn’t done any of that the last two cycles though, only gave him a large bucket of cold, mildly soapy water and a rag to wash up in his cell. Too much to deal with concerning the war than to worry about prisoners facing the possibility of lice.

Torin scratched at the tangled bristles that obscured his face, frowning. He could barely feel his cheek through it. It looked awful, like an angry mess of thick, curly boar bristles slapped onto his skin.

The beard would have to go.

A little rummaging in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror produced more than what he needed. He found a half-full tin of medicated ointment, which he gently dabbed on his knuckles before bandaging them with the plasters tucked beside it. On a lower shelf was a standard shaving kit, complete with spare blades, scissors and a comb for trimming hair to regimented lengths, and what Torin assumed had been the Captain’s rather fine badger hair brush. A puck of dimly scented shaving soap rested in a mug on the counter, a piece of tape boldly reminding the former owner that it was for ‘SHAVING ONLY.’

As the soap and brush soaked in the filling sink, Torin busied himself swapping out the old blade in the kit’s safety razor before the young man turned back to the mirror with scissors in hand. With a wince of pulled skin, he seized a clump of beard, pulled it away from his face as best he could, and slid the scissors in.

The slow snick as the strands were severed, followed by the chunk of damp hair releasing its hold, was oddly satisfying. Torin settled into a rhythm, slipping his fingers under the tangled mess to move it away from his skin before clipping it. As the pieces came away, scattering across the counter before being swept into the tiny wastebin, something almost recognizable began to take shape. As the final clump fell, Torin raised his gaze to meet that of the man in the mirror.

He had lost weight. His cheeks, still mostly covered by the now close cropped beard, reflected the years of meager meals served in his cell, so different from the slight softness of his teen years. He reached up and gently felt along the ridge of his cheekbone, feeling for the wire-like scar there. As he did, the changes to his body became more apparent. His muscles had been lean before, but were now almost etched under his skin. His collarbones and shoulders bore the brunt of the sores from his dirty uniform, the rough patches raw from where sweat collected and irritated the tiny scratches left from the sand and grime embedded in the coarse cloth. More scattered across his chest and back, where he rested between fits of tossing and turning in restless sleep on that cold steel cot and concrete floor.

Torin swallowed. Maybe recognizing the man in the mirror wasn’t a wholly good thing in his current state. He closed his eyes and breathed deep of the humid air, trying to calm the tremors in his hands.

As the shaking eased, Torin retrieved the wet brush, warmed razor and slick soap from the sink. A shave would help him, he was sure of it. It was an unexpectedly skilled task, one that required concentration to be done correctly and safely, never mind done well. The act had always served as a calming start to his day before it all happened, a ritual carried out by men across the whole of Alagaësia that he shared.

With a practiced flick of his wrist, Torin flung the excess water from the brush and began to swirl it over the puck of soap. Each turn loaded the fine hairs with light froth, building up as the moisture was absorbed. He stopped twice to drizzle the puck with droplets of water, and continued the smooth turning of his wrist until, by feel of the resistance and the sound of the brush alone, Torin knew the foam was instead a thickened paste of froth.

A sprinkle of water into the mug and he began the long art of building a proper lather. The act brought a tiny smile to his face, the slap of the brush as it circled the mug in quick succession reminding him of long past mornings watching his father shave. Once the lather formed peaks, Torin began working the rich foam into the cropped bristles across his face. Light strokes painted everything white, soft and airy on his damp skin.

Outside the room, Torin heard Naela speaking to someone. There was movement and a clattering jangle of objects being settled on the desk, but he paid it no mind as he picked up the razor. This was not a time to be distracted. A steady hand was needed now, and for once his did not tremble.

Tilting his head slightly, Torin set one of the edges of the safety razor against his cheek, right above the gentle ridge the foam created over the start of his trimmed beard. The angle was muscle memory, as was the feather light pressure he applied as he guided the blade with short strokes downwards. After so long, a second pass going against the grain would probably be in order, but for now Torin followed his father’s advice to follow the grain first. It wouldn’t do to have a sloppy shave if the Queen of the Elves were to visit again, no sir.

Every few strokes saw him flip the razor to utilize both sides before swishing the whole thing in the warm water of the sink. It was not long before the first pass was complete, and with a quick reapplication of the still-activated brush, white foam covered his face and neck again.

Moving more carefully now, Torin began the second pass, going against the grain and removing any stray hairs that remained. He could feel the familiar smooth, almost slick texture of the skin that was revealed with each stroke under his fingers as he pulled the awkward sections taut. It felt...good. Felt like normalcy.

With one last stroke, the final patch of soap was removed. Torin set the blade aside and drained the sudsy water from the sink, wiping the stray flecks of foam away with a hand towel as he watched the dregs slide down the drain. Two cupped handfuls of cool water splashed across his face saw the ritual completed in its entirety, soothing the minor irritation that always came with a close shave. He checked the mirror one last time as he ran his hand over his now smooth chin, feeling for any missed spots.

If it weren’t for the haunted look of his eyes and the wild length of his hair, Torin could have sworn the scrawny young man looking back was him on the first day of bootcamp. His face had matured somewhat since then, but the skinny frame and baby smooth cheeks called him back to those first few days of his forced service.

He picked up the scissors and rinsed them in the sink before awkwardly pulling a strip of his hair down. This would be a tad more difficult than a shave.

“You look much younger without your beard. Would you like help with your hair?”

Torin jerked, whirling to face Naela where she stood at the doorway to the bathroom. She tilted her head slightly, hands clasped behind her back. “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“I-it’s fine.” The young man looked back to his reflection, contemplating his still-damp locks. “...A bit of help would be appreciated. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Naela took the scissors from his hand and led him to the desk chair, which she dragged to the rough center of the room. “Is there any particular way you would like it?”

Torin paused. Part of him simply wished for a return to his previous style, to be able to look in the mirror and forget that anything had happened. To believe that the last years were simply a dream.

But no. To cast aside the time spent in Gil’ead’s cells would be to cast aside the changes he had gone through, changes that were integral to his sense of self. It would also feel like...a disrespect to the elf woman who set in motion Torin’s new path in life those years ago.

A thought occurred to him. “One of the Queen’s guards...I think his name was...Macil? D-do you think you could cut my hair like his?”

The smile that graced Naela’s face could be heard in her words. “I think that is going to suit you very well. I will do my best, Aldsson.”

“Thank you.” Torin smiled as well. The elf’s warmth was infectious. “And Naela? You can just call me Torin.”

The room fell to comfortable silence but for the rasping sound of the scissors through Torin’s hair. The feeling of the comb gently running over his scalp was surprisingly calming. It was nice to just sit for a moment, free from fear.

As the minutes passed, a question drifted into Torin’s mind. “Naela?”

“Yes, Torin?” The elf returned from retrieving a small hairband from her pack, where it leaned against the outer door frame.

The young man chose his words carefully. “When...when I was a guard, there was an elf woman here.” Naela’s hands, gathering up sections of his hair, paused for the briefest of moments, a stop so short that it was little more than a twitch. “Did you know her?”

Naela gently snapped the elastic around the small ponytail she had made and began trimming down the back of his head. “I cannot say. I heard about her, but do not know much.” She checked the length of her cut and used the comb to even it out.

“Oh.” Torin hadn’t considered that. It occurred to him that he had no idea just how many elves there were left after the Rider’s Fall. Were there hundreds? Thousands? It was foolish to think that a single elf out of their entire species would be, just by chance, known by his new guard. “...I never even got her name.” Even if Naela hadn’t taken that moment to tilt his head forward for a better angle, Torin would have hung it in shame. “It’s strange, but...I’ve always wanted to know what happened to her. It’s like her face is burned into my memory.”

Naela didn’t respond, engrossed in her work. Torin left it at that, but the questions still swirled in his mind.

It was only a handful of minutes more before Naela gave a soft hum and used a hand towel to brush the stray hairs from Torin’s back and shoulders. “Finished. Let me know if you would like me to try something else.”

Torin moved to the bathroom to see the elf’s work, peering into the mirror.

He couldn’t help but smile as he ran his hand over the soft three quarters of an inch left at the sides and back of his head. The remainder of his hair, gathered in a tufted ponytail, would hang at the edge of his jaw when released.

It felt clean. New. A true fresh start.

“Thank you, Naela.” He turned back to the summer-eyed woman, beaming with a long forgotten smile. “It’s perfect.”

Not long after, Torin found himself seated at the former Captain’s desk with a bowl of warmed stew and a slab of bread. He did his best to not look like a feral beast as he ate, forcing himself to take a single spoonful at a time and a bite of the thick bread after. It was the first real, filling food the young man had eaten in years, and he would savor it.

Torin finished off the final dregs of the stew and rinsed the dishes in the tiny bathroom’s sink. Once done he wandered back out to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling drained.

Out of habit the young man looked up to the wall to judge the time by the glimmer of the moon and stars. It took him a moment to remember that the Captain’s room was more central than the wards and had no window.

“It is nearly midnight.” Naela commented from the door. “Would you like the light off?”

Moments after Torin confirmed that he did, his head hit the pillow. He sank into sleep, mind abuzz with the turns his life had taken.

~~~

The morning brought a breakfast of overnight oats and fruit, a delicacy Torin had nearly forgotten existed. As he slowly peeled each segment from the last orange at his disposal, the young man mulled over what to do in the coming hours till the Queen came to him again.

There were no books in the room. Naela was reading a novel, but when she offered Torin one of the two others she had in her pack he was dismayed to find that they were in a script that he did not understand. Most of the drawers of the desk were empty besides a few pieces of the thick, cotton-based stationary the Captain used for official correspondence. No pencils or pens rattled about, and beyond a dusty chewing tobacco tin filled with paper clips that had fallen between the desk and the wall, nothing else of note could be found.

The last segment disappearing between his lips, Torin quietly got up and rinsed the oats bowl in the bathroom sink and disposed of the strawberry tops and orange peel in the small wastebasket.

Naela looked up as he moved. “Would you like anything else, Torin?” She smiled, sliding a thin wooden tab into the book on her lap. “There is plenty more food if you are still hungry.”

As always, her kindness made the edges of Torin’s lips tilt up in a returned grin. “No, thank you.”

A jolt suddenly shot through his mind. The conversation the night before. Naela’s uncertainty surrounding the elf he had met those years ago. His shame at never even learning the woman’s name.

“Actually, Naela. Do you happen to have a pencil?”

He didn’t know her name. But he would never forget her face.

Torin shifted his grip on the pencil, feeling the gentle rasp of the graphite against the paper’s texture as he defined the edge of the scar that interrupted the woman’s right eyebrow. That one had been old, he was sure. He refused to add any of the scars she had gained in Gil’ead, trying to capture the person she was away from the prison’s influence.

It had been hours since Naela handed off the pencil to him. She occasionally peered over his shoulder and praised his unusually steady hands but otherwise let him work in comfortable silence. Torin let the world melt around him, everything else a blur.

A sudden shuffle alerted him to a change outside his cone of focus, but he paid it no mind. He was almost finished, added the last flecks to the eyes, and sat back with a crackling pop as his hunched spine straightened.

The elf he had met before stared back at him. As always, there was fire in her eyes.

“It is customary to rise when a guest enters.”

Torin strangled a yelp. Queen Islanzadí stood in the doorway, Naela at an eased attention just outside.

“M-ma’am!” Torin put the pencil down and scrambled from the desk, nearly knocking over the chair in his hurry. A long buried instinct told him to snap to attention and salute, but at the last moment he stifled the urge and hastily bowed. “I-I’m s-sorry, I didn’t hear you c-come in. I beg your f-forgiveness.” Torin kept his head low, unsure if he should rise from the kowtowed position.

He could feel Islanzadí’s golden eyes roving over him. “That is quite enough.” Torin straightened, somewhat relieved. The Queen turned to Naela with a short, “Thank you. You are dismissed. Return in three hours.” before returning her attention to the young man before her.

Torin felt his fingers digging into his skin where his hands hung at his sides. Naela was a balm to his anxiety, and part of him wanted to ask if she could stay. The departing elf gave him a warm smile over Islanzadí’s shoulder and subtly nodded towards the hall door as she left.

The knot of tension in Torin’s stomach eased slightly. Naela would not be far.

“Tell me. What had you so absorbed that you forgot the world, Aldsson?” Torin snapped his gaze back to the Queen just as her own gaze fell on the desk.

A bolt of lightning seemed to shock through Islanzadí’s expression. It was there for the barest measure of a second before it was gone, replaced with a sudden tightness in her voice. “What is this?”

Torin felt himself shrink at the sharpness in her tone, but something inside him held firm. He drew himself up, and lifted the sketch from the desk with steady hands. “Ma’am. I don’t know the woman’s name, but I can remember her face clearly.” He offered the drawing to the Queen, a nagging urge to please flitting in the back of his mind as she accepted it. “I...I wanted to know if she made it. Naela did not know but–”

Islanzadí held up a hand, halting the rush of words in Torin’s throat. She studied the drawing intently, eyes gliding over the details Torin had included. The young man swore he saw a hint of warm softness color the chill of the Elven Queen’s countenance.

What felt like an eternity ticked by. Cautious, curious, Torin risked a quiet question that had been burning in him since waking that morning.

“Did...did Your Majesty know her?”

Islanzadí did not look up. Instead she breezed by him to the desk and picked up the discarded pencil. Torin felt a jolt of protectiveness over the drawing, surged forward to stop her from destroying it, before Islanzadí’s sharp glare stopped him in his tracks.

Torin could only watch, first in dread and then in relief as the Queen wrote out four human runes at the base of the picture.

She turned back and held the sketch out to him. “Arya.”

The former guard’s mouth went dry, heart pounding in his chest at the single uttered word as he carefully took the offered page. “A-Arya?” He dropped his gaze to the drawing.

“Yes. Her name.” When Torin did not move, frozen in place, the Queen pointed to the bed. “Sit.”

Body numb with the new information, emotions roiling through his skull, Torin obeyed. He sat on the edge of the simple bed and finally managed to tear his eyes away from the name elegantly scrawled below the face that had haunted him all these years. One question answered, another took its place. “What ha–”

“Now is not the time.” Islanzadí’s statement snapped his mouth shut again. Regal even now, the Elven Queen turned the desk chair and sat to face him. She had taken on the cool demeanor once again, the deadly hawk still debating on whether to end this little field mouse or let him live.

“Tell me more of your story, Aldsson.”

Sakura Blossom: Renewal

9 notes · View notes

needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

OK IM NOT INTO ARMPIT STUFF PERSONALLY BUT THAT JUST MAKES SO MUCH SENSE FOR KOHGA???? SO COULD WE PERHAPS SEE SOME OF THAT???

You ABSOLUTELY can!(because it's lowkey what im into-)

"Sooga! Get in here!"

Sooga pardoned himself from his team. He had been training with them all day, and in the absolute scorcher they had today, Sooga wasn’t exactly...clean. But shower later. Sooga made his way into the room, in time to see a rather cranky looking Kohga.

"Yes, Master Kohga?"

"Help me get that damn book up there! Forgot my ladder in the dining hall."

"Can't you float?"

"Can't you fetch? Go!"

Temper temper today. Sooga looked at where he was pointing, and reached up to get it. He brought it back down, handing it to Kohga.

"Pleased?"

"'Pleased'? You got my book, don't pat yourself on the back you idiot-is that. Is that smell YOU?"

Sooga winced, giving a nod of his head. Clearly his Master was displeased with his lack of hygiene.

"Yes, apologies. Been training all day today. If I have your permission, I will go bathe."

Kohga reacted so...strangely. He looked at him up and down, before putting the book down.

"Oh Sooga! Here I am, being all mean to you, you poor thing. Take your clothes off, lay down for me, you clearly had a long, awful day."

That's...odd. Kohga was suddenly sweet as sugar. He wanted to ask if he was alright, when he sensed a sort of...urgency in his Master. So he promptly obeyed, taking off his foul clothes, putting them aside, and laying in bed. Kohga hopped right on top of the bed, hand carefully massaging his side. Sooga chuckled, despite the confusion.

"Thank you for the sudden...care, I suppose."

"You make it sound like I don't care about you, Sooga! Big body like yours...needs taking care of. Your arms are sore, right?"

"Not really? I'm fine-"

"Don't be all Mr. Brave on me, of course you're aching! Hands behind your head, relax for me."

Oddly insistent. He obeyed however, and he felt soothed by Kohga’s hands wandering up and down not only his side, but his muscular arms.

"I appreciate it, Master Kohga. You're too kind."

"Mhmm...course, course. You REALLY smell, honestly."

"I could go bathe first-"

"Shhhh. I'm...taking care of you. Yeah."

Kohga's hands wandered further still, and Sooga was practically soothed to sleep. Until he felt something. He turned to see Kohga's face right in his armpit, practically smothering himself in him.

"Master Kohga? Are you…?"

"God shut up Sooga, let me have this you big, stinking man."

Sooga thought it was odd enough. Then he noticed Kohga was exposed. He was...touching himself. Rather eagerly, too.

"Master Kohga? You...like this?"

"So fucking much, honestly ~....you smell like a whole heap of man, and GOD I love that."

Kohga was shoving himself deeper into his arm. Sooga had no idea that this was a thing, but he DID know two things; he personally wasn't into this, but Master Kohga LOVED it. So, who was he to be so rude? Sooga tried not to snort at how absurd this was, before he regained his composure.

"I'm surprised, honestly. Especially given that I'm a bit behind in terms of shaving."

That DEFINITELY did something. Kohga was pumping his cock quickly, muttering such pervy, lewd things against his skin. Kohga’s hot breath was against his armpit, and inevitably, his tongue. Master Kogha was sitting here, touching himself, and lickibg the sweat right off his armpit.

"Fuck fuck FUCK Sooga."

Poor Kohga. He was so needy, so eager and thirsty for him. Kissing, licking, slurping against his (somewhat) hairy, stinking underarms.

"Would it uh, help if I shoved your head into it?"

Kohga’s face finally peered up at him, and Sooga was almost stunned. His mouth was full of drool, his breathing turned quick, impatient.

"God YES."

Sooga didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the back of his head, and not only did he shove his nose in it, he clamped his arm around his head, keeping him from escaping. Kohga moaned loudly, thrashed wildly, pumped his cock so furiously; it was fascinating to see. Especially when he came. Sooga felt him nearly scream into his armpit as ribbons of cum stained the sheets below. Sooga waited till Kohga calmed down, before pulling his arm away, slowly. Kohga’s tongue was hanging out, and Sooga’s armpit was doused in drool. Sooga looked at him, still not putting his arm down.

"My, not so angry anymore, are we?"

"Shut...up...h-holy shit, Sooga."

"Suppose this kink is the...pits."

"...god let me do it again, you fucking BEAST."

Kohga was a weird, weird man. One that Sooga very, very much loved.

#asks #kohga #sooga #lemon #you know who kohga would KILL to do this with?#DARUK??#dudes gotta have loads of armpit hair #also notice how kohga was suddenly so nice when he realized sooga was sweaty #sweaty men hit that bitch switch in him and suddenly he's just a sweet lil peac #*peach

9 notes · View notes

monstaxardeur · 4 years

Text

Warnings: None

You dug deeper into the pockets of your oversized bomber jacket. The coastal wind was wild, your hair strands kept going crazy and somehow kept getting stuck to your glossy lips. You shuffled faster and now you could have sworn you felt sand crunch in your mouth. 'Where is he?' you asked yourself looking around the lined beach houses. You saw the porchlight of one of the residential huts open, a very faint glow and right across it by the shore in the faint light of the darkened sunset he stood. His bucket hat on, casual sweats and a sleeveless shirt showing off his arms he'd worked so hard to gain musceles on. He was just trying to take pictures of the moon and it made you smile, he was a silly kid at heart. Changkyun heard your footsteps and turned back smiling his cute dimpled smile, that cute silly look as he spoke, "Heyyy you came!" You didn't realize how big your grin was seeing such an earnest greeting. "What were you doing?" you asked, though feeling chilly because wearing shorts to a beach at night near the end of the year was a bad idea. "Just taking the pic of the moon with the sunset falling behind, see!" he came to your side to show you the photos and he glanced at you momentarily, "You look nice." and you hoped he didn't see your flushed cheeks because damn right you prepared all evening for this meetup, you just wanted to look your best. "Well I had to look nice to grace your presence, you an idol and a visual, me a commoner." you joked and teased hyping him up like one does to friends, "Oh shut up I didn't even shave." he giggled at your playful response and rubbed the side of his face as if feeling his stubble which honestly felt non existent to you. "I mean you're allowed to relax you look fine either way." You replied and looked at his bucket hat reaching for it which he didn't mind as you wore it and took a few steps ahead standing with hands on your hips. He was still processing how you felt so conscious about your image around him and yet how you effortlessly looked so cute just being you. "Hey hold that pose, you look good." He took a few photos of you and some silly candid ones when the wave crashed at your feet suddenly and startled you, he literally just cackled like stitch and if you were honest you loved to see him smile and laugh like that.

You both were indoors later sitting by the big window with cushions around you, having flavored soju and just the sound of waves crashing at night. You two despite being friends only for a little while, compared to your mutuals, got along really well and he just sat with you to spill some tea about some of both your mutuals. It was like a heart to heart about people around you both and how he was dealing with it and you both definitely bonding over someone who had rubbed you both the wrong way. Light jokes were thrown and seconds of the soju bottles were consumed, some need of affection was seeped through your ideas of life, each one silently listened on when the other spoke. You realized how different and yet somehow how so similar you two were, wanting something different from this boring cycle of life. There was a need tugging at you and you wondered if you were reading it right, if he was showing it too. There were moments of comforting silence shared and he softly poked at your palm and you invited him to slowly hold hands, rubbing comforting strokes over his knuckles and faintly whispered. "You'll be alright."

There was a momentary pang of pain in your heart as if the need to just embrace him but you distracted yourself by tossing the soju bottles away and freshening up in the bathroom. You walked out and saw him gently pacing around the room as he had put some music on low volume. He mouthed the words animatedly and you smiled at his sillyness as you just sat down on the futons made as beds, the angle giving you a perfect view of the night sky, stars all over and a moon peeking behind faint clouds. He joined you lying down next to you a soft sigh escaping his lips.

The song really put you both in a trance, hands brushed against each other and he held it, at first it didn't feel much until his fingers entwined into yours slowly, giving you butterflies. This time a sigh escaped your lips and he immediately turned to look at you, you could feel his gaze and it would be odd if you didn't naturally look at him so you did and your heart churned, the vulnerability felt invasive oddly, new, yet human, comforting and your eyes glossed with faint signs of tears. His gaze softened with a few strands of bangs falling over his eyes. You reached out to brush them away and he took the opportunity to scoot closer to you, really close and his arm came around you gesturing you to rest in his embrace. It felt natural almost as you curled up closer, your head on his chest and hand resting to feel his heartbeat. His soft touch lingered in different places, sometimes soothing circles on the skin of your arms, other times playing in your hair and eventually resting on your waist. You felt your eyes get heavy and he turned his face to your side, his lips brushing your forehead, he noticed your sleepy mode and reached for the pillows. "Sorry I think I dozed." and he shook his head, "It's fine, wait." He made sure you slept on a comfy pillow as you curled up on your side hand tucked under your head. "It's okay, go to sleep, I'll keep watch for the monsters in the closet." His voice deep yet soft and a little raspy. "I'm really fond of you Changkyun." You confessed suddenly, a hidden play on words by not actually saying the words 'like' or 'love' and you saw him smile that damned smile that made your heart cry. "Yeah I know." He replied and your cheeks flushed, the heat rising to them and he looked away smiling wide. "I like you too, a lot." He added but didn't look your way. You only remembered dozing off with a faint smile on your face.

When in the middle of the night your eyes opened, the music had stopped but the sound of waves crashing still soothed you. However you were a little taken aback at the close proximity, Changkyun was asleep but he was literally hugging you like as if you were his favorite pillow. And he was quite deeply asleep, you carefully reached for the sheets to cover your bare legs that had gotten a little cold and made sure he wasn't cold either. Nestling your face back into his chest you slept with the warmth of his body emanating and keeping you warm.

mood song: slow dancing in the dark by joji

#i.m #changkyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x #moodsong #manic pixie dream boy

66 notes · View notes

ad1thi · 3 years

Text

Bruised, Not Broken - CHP 1

i just realised that i never posted this here?? so here’s my kinda weird Assassin!Bucky x Toni modern AU that came to me in the shower and im still figuring out as a i go along. the first two chapters are done (and out on ao3) so i’ll be posting chapter 2 in like a day or two, but after that - updates will sync up here and on ao3

chapter 1/? || also on ao3

James is just about to fall asleep, can feel his eyelids getting heavier and his body slowing down, when his phone starts ringing on his chest, startling him back to wakefulness. He fumbles for it a couple of times, swiping his thumb over the half-shattered screen and bringing it to his ear.

“Barnes,” he grunts through the phone, and the voice he hears trinkle through the static makes him sit upright. He wasn’t ever accepting to hear from him again.

“James,” the man on the other end of the line says, “I need you to do something for me, and I need you to not ask any questions.”

“I wasn’t aware we were on speaking terms,” James replies carefully, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice, “This must be a pretty big favour.”

“This one isn’t for me,” the man says shortly, “There’s a truck parked in the alley on the corner of 5th and Main. There’s precious cargo inside. I need you to get to the truck and drive it the hell out of town. Don’t look back, and don’t stop for anything.”

“You expect me to uproot my life, and I’m not even allowed to ask what’s going on?” James demands, even though he already knows he’s going to say yes. He wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important, if there wasn’t anybody else who could do this except for James.

“You trusted me once,” the man says, after a pregnant silence, “There was a time when I would tell you to jump, and you would say ‘how high?’. Someone’s life is at stake, so can I count on you or not?”

James surveys his apartment. He doesn’t have a lot of clothes, they could probably all be stuffed in a large duffel bag if he tries hard enough. His plates are all plastic, and there’s some leftover take out in the fridge.

Rent’s due in a couple of days, but somehow, James doesn’t think his landlord will be all that upset if he sees an empty apartment. Or that surprised.

“I can be there in 30 minutes,” James concedes, “I just need to get some stuff together.”

“Bring your guns,” the man says, “and don’t be late.” He ends the call before James can come up with something smart to say in response. He manfully resists the urge to throw his phone against the wall, if only because there are people who still need to be able to contact him; and pushes himself to his feet.

The duffel bag is stuffed under his bed, right next to where the guns are taped, and it’s quick work to get them both out. James takes a couple of seconds to check the magazine in the handgun before stuffing it in the crook of the back of his jeans; and then feels around for the extra clips he knows he has stashed somewhere.

His clothes are strewn all over the one-bedroom apartment, and while James would love to just stuff them into the duffel bag and call it a day - he takes the time to fold each other, smoothing out the wrinkles as best he can. He’s not particularly vain, not anymore anyway - but his Ma drilled into him the need to keep decent clothes, and the Army hammered it home.

Before he steps out of the apartment, he takes a second to look at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing an absent hand over the beard that’s grown over the past couple of months. He debates taking the time to shave but decides against it. He’s going to an alley; appearances don’t matter.

He grabs his toothbrush and places it on top of his clothes, before zipping up the duffel bag and swinging it over his shoulders. He taps on his phone screen to check the time, and he’s got about 15 minutes before he’ll be late. If he walks quickly, he can be there in 10.

James is at the threshold when he takes one last look at his apartment. It’s easily one of the most decrepit places he’s ever lived, even counting his days in the barracks in Afghanistan; but it’s been home for the past four months and he’s oddly loath to leave it.

With a sigh, he pulls the door and jimmies the key into the lock; clicking it shut. He slips the key into the fake plant pot poised outside that Natasha gave him as a housewarming gift, because she thought it would make the apartment homely; and then swings over the railings, bracing himself with his hands when he hits the ground.

His apartment was only two floors from the ground floor, and it’s late enough that there’s nobody around to watch his stunts. Besides, he’s on a clock.

He sees the truck the minute he turns into the alley, but there doesn’t appear to be anybody waiting for him next to it. On instinct, James’ hand rests on his gun, while the other fishes out his phone to make sure he isn’t late.

It’s dark, almost impossibly so, but James’ eyes are used to darker, and they adjust quickly. A quick sweep of the alley confirms his suspicions - that he’s the only one here, and he resists swearing out loud, if only because it will draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Letting go of his gun, he makes his way over to the truck, peering at the back to see if he can make out what the precious cargo is. There’s a bundled-up duvet stuffed into the back of the truck, placed in a way that you wouldn’t even notice it was there unless you were looking for it.

James braces his hands onto the edge of the truck and hauls himself up so that he can get a closer look, walking softly so as to not jostle the cargo. He crouches down when he’s close enough; and with the steady fingers, pulls at the duvet to reveal whatever’s inside.

There’s a girl, no, a woman, who can’t be older than 20, covered in bruises and contorted in an impossible position. James is going to kill him the next time they run into each other; their past relationship be damned. Hesitantly, James brings his fingers to her neck, relaxing slightly when he feels a weak pulse. He checks her eyes next, finger catching on the underside and pulling it down to reveal glazed pupils; almost vacant.

There’s a distinct possibility that if James looks closer at her neck; he’s going to find a tiny puncture wound that resembles a needle. He’s definitely going to kill him the next time he sees him. James might even hunt him down just for the pleasure of the kill.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and redials the last incoming number, shoving it between his shoulder and crooking his neck - leaving his hands free to peel back more of the duvet while he assesses the woman’s injuries.

He picks up after two rings.

“I don’t do this stuff anymore,” James barks, not even giving him a chance to get a word in edgewise, “I don’t take people out. What the fuck have you gotten me into? She looks like she was the punching bag for an overly enthusiastic MMA fighter. You’re going to tell me what’s going on right now, or I promise you, I will hunt you down.”

“So, you opened the cargo,” the man says in a calm tone, so calm that it infuriates James.

“Yeah, I fucking opened the cargo, and I’m telling you right now - I’m not killing this woman. I don’t care who she is, or what she’s done, I’m done with that life. You’ve got some nerve giving me this kind of job.”

“James,” his voice doesn’t waver in the slightest, “James you’re not there to kill her. You’re there to save her.”

James pauses at that, hands stilling from where they were inspecting the cuts around her thighs, “What do you mean, save her?”

“Look I can’t tell you much, because it’s classified; but we’ve had her and her husband on surveillance for months. You have to believe me when I say if I knew what he was doing to her, that he was beating her; that I would’ve put an end to the op. I only found out two weeks ago though, because she’s good at hiding it. Almost too good.”

“So why is she drugged and in the back of a truck instead of at the police station giving her statement?”

The man sighs, the only indication that he is bothered by this, “I was told that the op was too deep, and she was collateral damage. If he killed her, I was allowed to call the police - but anything short of that, I was just supposed to look the other way; and file it for when he was officially charged. They said that if they started him now, that the rest of the case would fall apart, and it wasn’t worth the risk. Not when we were so close.”

“So, you smuggled her out instead,” James surmised.

“If it makes you feel any better, she asked to be drugged. I explained who you are to her as best I could, but she said that she was in a shit-load of pain, and it was more than likely that she would lash out at you on instinct alone; so, drugging her was the best option.”

“Why didn’t she go to the police?” James asks, even though he already knows the answer, “Why do it like this?”

“She said that he had all the local police in his pocket, and if she went - they’d probably just send her back home with a couple of new bruises.’

‘I need her alive,’ he’d said, ‘I need her alive, and well enough to testify when we finally bring down the hammer on her piece of shit husband. Whatever you need to do to keep her alive James, do it.’

He’s been driving for close to six hours now. New York is long gone, and there’s a fair chance that James has crossed state lines. New Jersey was a distinct possibility for a half mile, because nobody worth their salt from New York considers New Jersey a place; but James has more connections in Massachusetts; more people to count on if things go south.

On his lap, the woman stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake. Her head is pillowed on one of his thighs; the duvet covering her up till her shoulders, and she sniffles and moves closer to him; as if chasing his body warmth. Almost on instinct, James reaches out and soothes a hand through her hair, running his fingers against her scalp ever so gently.

She leans into the movement, imperceptibly, and after a couple of minutes of movement; stills again, going limp. Whatever sedatives she’s on must be strong, but it’s clear that if they don’t stop soon; she’s going to wake up and that’s not good for her, or for him.

They’re about an hour out from a motel that James trusts; with an owner who looks the other way for the right kind of money, but he’s worried that she won’t make it that long. When he was moving her from the back of the van, he jostled the duvet, and he knows that she’s got nothing more than a threadbare shirt and her undergarments on. Whatever her situation was, clearly it was bad enough that trousers were too much of a waste; and sedated or not - her body is feeling the effects of the frigid winter air.

“Fuck,” James murmers into the open air, and pulls up on the side of the road. As gentle as possible, he cups his hands under the woman’s arms and brings up to a sitting position; her back resting against his chest. He shifts slightly in the tight spot, shrugging off his jacket and slipping it onto her shoulders.

It isn’t easy tucking her hands into the arms of the jacket without jostling her wounds, but James manages; even though every new bruise makes him want to break something in frustration. His earlier assessment that she was a punching bag isn’t inaccurate, and just from touching her hands, James can estimate multiple fractures around her wrist all the way up to her elbow.

She’s startling beautiful; long brown hair that flows past her shoulders and curls ever so slightly at the end, eyelashes that frame her cheeks and chapped lips with slight teeth indentations; like she bites them a lot. James can’t imagine even raising his voice at her; let alone marking her up the way her husband has - and not for the first time, he curses the fact that he can’t take her to a hospital, or to the proper authorities; who’ll do right by her.

But he can’t, because his job isn’t to get her to the authorities, it’s to keep her alive - and James is going to do it even if it kills him.

tbc

#my writing #buckytony #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky x tony #bucky/tony #bucky barnes/tony stark #female tony stark #assassin bucky barnes #Bruised not Broken

23 notes · View notes