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edupunkn00b · 8 months

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Decoherence, Ch. 4: Rapture of the Nerd

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“Huw makes sure to wake up in his own bed the next morning. It’s ancient and creaky, the springs bowed to conform to his anatomy, and he wove the blankets himself on the treadle-powered loom in the back parlor that Mum and Dad left him when they ascended, several decades before.” -The Rapture of the Nerds by Cory Doctorow

WC: 4595 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, suggesting, alcohol -

2026, June 12, London, England

Remus grunted when his forehead thudded against the edge of his desk.

“Tea?” Lo asked and swapped out his empty coffee cup for a steaming cup of chai. The spicy, milky sweet scent filled the air and Remus smiled despite himself.

“I dunno, I thought it might help find the bug if I kept banging my head against the desk.”

Chuckling, Lo wheeled over his own chair to sit next to him. “It might,” he murmured. He held his cup with one hand and the other played at the edges of Remus’ hair.

“Hmph.” Remus tried to sound disgruntled but Lo’s gentle fingers at the back of his neck melted his foul mood. “I’m attempting a pout,” he said, not really able to hide the smile in his voice. Not that he tried very hard.

Lo took a slow sip of his tea and the delicate tickling at the base of Remus’ skull turned into a steady massage. “I can see that. Pout with your tea,” Lo murmured, moving his hand with him as he sat up.

“Thank you,” Remus said with a genuine smile, stiff fingers curled around the cup. Lo shifted down and worked the knot at the top of his spine. “For the tea, too,” he said between sips. He let his eyes fall shut and his shoulders dropped, cup resting on the desk where he’d just knocked his head. “I’m close, maybe too close to figuring it out—”

Remus sat up straight and let go of the cup, hands flying across the keyboard in front of him. Lo barely caught the tea before it fell in his lap. He didn’t bother asking if Remus had an idea and just scootched in closer to read over his shoulder.

“Oh!” Lo breathed, reading the new parameters Remus entered. “You don’t think the qubits are too close?”

“Uh-huh,” he shook his head then typed the compile command with a flourish. The screen filled with row after row of green text announcing positive health checks of the new, larger quantum array. “They weren’t close enough.”

“Look, they have the tiny tomatoes Virgil likes!” Lo slipped into line as Remus loaded up the conveyor belt at Aldi’s. His ‘one more thing’ had turned into an armful of bananas and tomatoes, a mesh bag of oranges, two pints of sugar snap sweetpeas and a bottle of oat milk.

He plopped the produce down and flashed a nervous grin at the customer behind them in line. “Our nephew really likes his fruits and veggies,” Remus shrugged in a half-serious apology, grinning when their annoyance melted away. “Gotta say ‘yes’ to something for the little guy.”

“As though you let that child lack for anything, ‘Uncka Re,’” Lo murmured near Remus’ ear as he threaded an arm through his.

So Remus liked spoiling him. The kid had spent his first year and a half with his mom only to be literally left bawling on Pattycake’s doorstep with eyes that matched his and a note.

“His name is Virgil and he’s yours. TPR’s already filed. Good luck and don’t call me. - K.”

The whole family was determined to make up for it.

Remus reached over the belt to ‘sneak’ a pack of cinnamon Altoids in with the actual food and looked up just in time to spot a cashier clocking in at the other end of the store. He stared. “Holy fuck, Lo…” He looked between him and Lo. “That guy looks just like you,” he muttered. Different glasses, frown lines… and he held himself completely differently, shoulders hunched, with hands that shook like he was under—or over—medicated. Reminded him of guys he knew in college.

But the rest of him? Same raven hair, maybe with a sprinkling of grey, and same brilliant blue eyes Remus could see from across the way. Same cupid’s bow in his smile. “Hey, I thought I was the one with a twin,” he joked, but Lo was staring just as hard as Remus was.

“‘Scuse me,�� he whispered and sidled past Remus and the lady in front of them, eyes fixed on the guy as he buttoned up his deep blue and gold Aldi’s vest. Lo stood frozen for a minute, just watching the guy hyperfocus on each button. His hands definitely shook and it only took Remus a moment to recognize the DTs.

Lo approached slowly, like he was trying to snatch up a stray cat. The guy stepped behind the customer service counter, grabbed a bottle of Windex and towels and started wiping the fingerprints off the cigarette case.

Remus finished checking out, and Lo was still just… watching him. “Lo Lo? You alright?” he whispered.

Lo nodded, glancing back at him. His face was pale and there were tears in his eyes. “I—I just need to…” He squeezed Remus’ hand and approached the counter.

“L—Lucas?” he asked, hands hovering over the glass countertop.

“My name is Luke, welcome to Aldi’s, how can I help you today?” the guy said in a sing-song patter without looking up. Rote, automatic. Without sentiment. Like Virgil when he was sounding out words from a book.

“Lucas, it’s me,” Lo said, louder as he reached over the counter. “It’s Logan.”

“Lo…” Luke looked up, unfocused eyes washing over Lo’s features. He shook his head, scowling. “Logan,” he said clearly, but stepped back.

Lo stretched over the countertop between them and brushed his hand over Luke’s arm. The guy swallowed back a hiss and yanked his arm bac.. “Is there something I can help you with?” Luke backed against the shelves of vapes and nicotine patches behind him. “Sir?” he added as an afterthought.

“Lucas,” Lo shook his head, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Lucas, it’s me,” he said again, touching his chest. “I… I can’t believe it….” The guy just stared at him and Lo’s mouth began to tremble.

Remus moved to his side. He parked their cart of groceries at the end of an empty checker line, then took his hand. “Lo, do you—”

“Yes, of course, I do,” he whispered. “Lucas, why do you—”

“Sir, if you need to purchase something, I can help you. If not—” he looked pointedly behind Lo where a small line was forming. “I have actual customers to attend to.”

“Lucas, no, I…” Lo stepped closer, reaching over the counter like he was trying to grab the guy. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he begged… for… Remus didn’t know for what. “Please, Lucas!”

The guy crossed his arms over his chest, a mannerism ripped from Lo’s personal body language dictionary. “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t know who the fuck you are.”

The guy turned away, jaw clenched and eyes on the floor. He looked like he was waiting to be reprimanded for swearing in front of a customer.

“Sir!” A manager appeared out of fucking nowhere and stood way to close. Weird, almost military piping trimmed the shoulders and pockets of her uniform vest, and she put herself between Lo and the guy. She nodded to somebody behind them and

Remus tore his eyes from the scene just long enough to peek over his shoulder. A hulk of a security guard was headed for them, pushing through the crowd that had gathered.

“Lo, c’mon,” he murmured, tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s give him his space.” He’d never seen Lo like this. Lo didn’t cry in public. He didn’t approach, let alone touch strangers. This… this was—

“I must ask you to leave, Sir.” The manager repeated the honorific like a slur. “I can’t let you upset my staff.”

“But he’s my—” Lo’s voice had raised into a broken plea, panic widening his eyes. He jerked toward the counter again, drawn closer, his feet stuttering like it was against his own better judgment.

“Can I show you gentlemen the door.” The guard wasn’t asking. Lo squeezed Remus’ hand, staring at the guy. When they didn’t move, the guard tapped an angry-looking taser hooked on his belt. The logo on the handle was worn and faded, like it had had a lot of use. “Time to go,” he muttered.

“I’ll—” Lo called back to Luke, but the guy addressed the little old lady standing behind them.

“Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?”

“Time to go now.” The guard didn’t shout. Nobody had to shout with a fucking taser like that.

“Lo, c’mon,” Remus urged Lo toward the door. “We’re not gonna win this today,” he whispered. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

“But we can’t—” Shoulders slumped, he cast one more look at the guy. He acted like Lo didn’t even exist, his full attention on the old betty comparing prices on lottery tickets. A spiked band tightened around Remus’ heart. The guy looked so much like Lo. Remus wanted to rush over there, too, demanding he… What? The guy said he didn’t know him.

“C’mon, Lo,” he whispered one more time, reaching for the cart with one hand and tugging gently on Lo’s hand with the other. “Let’s go home.”

Lo’s shaking fingers threaded with his. Everything just felt wrong. Lo didn’t act like this. “We’ll figure this out, Love,” he whispered, unsure if Lo even heard him. “I promise.”

The guard backed off a bit when Lo nodded and followed them toward the door. He pushed the cart closer and Remus grabbed one end with a little nod. “Let’s get you home, Lo Lo.”

Lo was quiet the whole ride home. Head leaning against the passenger window, he watched the shops and passing cars, the little knots of families out enjoying the warm evening air. Remus stomped down his own questions, didn’t push him to talk, just reached over and held his hand at every stop light. Lo squeezed back, then let go each time the light turned green.

Gradually, he sat up, and by the time they’d pulled into the driveway, he turned to face Remus, eyes clear and more focused than they’d been since he’d first pointed out his doppelganger. “Thank you, Meus,” he murmured.

“Wanna talk about it?” Remus asked, instead of asking who Lucas was. Occam’s Razor and all made it hard not to assume, but… Lo was an only child.

“Later,” Lo promised. “I… I think I just confused him for somebody I knew back in school.” He didn’t sound convinced, but he had his ‘processing’ face on, so Remus nodded.

“Okay, Love,” he whispered, snagging his hand before he opened the door and pressing a kiss against his knuckles. “I’m here, Lo,” he nodded. “Always.”

For just a second, Lo looked like he might cry again, but his face shifted into a little smile. “I know, Meus,” he nodded. “Let’s get the groceries in. Your brother will be here before we know it.”

“We can cancel—” Remus reached for his hand again. When Lo turned, he stroked his face. Lo’s hand came up, pressing against Remus’ to curl over his cheekbone, his jaw. Lo looked like he was afraid he might slip away if he didn’t. “We’ll have them over tomorrow night,” Remus murmured. “We can have a quiet night together.”

“No—” Lo shook his head, a sudden fire in his eyes. “No, it’s been a while,” he smiled. “Who knows how big Virgil’s gotten already.”

Remus laughed. “You know I had a dream about them last night.”

An ocean of thoughts surged through Lo’s eyes, a thousand ideas crashing and colliding behind those bits of blue that always seemed to match the sky. Finally, he smiled. “Why don’t you tell me all about it while we start dinner?”

Cooking seemed to help give Lo something else to think about and by the time the doorbell rang, he was smiling and teasing Remus to not let the alfredo scorch.

The door opened and Virgil’s voice echoed down the hall. “Uncka Woe!” he cried. Lo’s exaggerated ‘oof’ sound told Remus he’d gotten tackled by the energetic preschooler. Good. That kid could dissolve the worst bad mood. “Look what Poppy got me!”

“Pattycake? Are you spoiling that boy?” he called from the kitchen, laughing. Uncka Re and Uncka Woe certainly weren’t the only ones determined to give that kid the world.

“Yes,” Janus answered, already rolling up his sleeves as he stepped into the kitchen. “Strainer?” he asked, tilting his head toward the steam billowing out of the pot of clams.

“Already in the sink,” he nodded. “Thanks.”

“I’m not nearly as bad as Ro,” Patton laughed, ruffling the little boy’s hair as he wormed his way between the adults, likely hunting for treats left out on the counter. Laughing, he swiped a banana from the fruit stand and slipped back out to the hall.

“Ah! I don’t spoil Virgil!” Ro’s ‘outrage’ was two octaves too high and his laughter carried over the sound of the clamshells rattling against steel as Janus drained off the boiling water. “Right, Virge?”

“Right, Daddy,” he agreed.

“Okay, good.” Virgil was now on Ro’s hip, munching his stolen banana as they all tromped into the kitchen. The little boy was swimming in a bright purple hoodie two sizes too big. “Now, how about you help me set the table?”

“Can I carry the p’ates?” Janus looked over his shoulder as he dumped the clams onto a serving tray, eyes wide. He’d had a limp for a week when little Virgil’s last attempt at setting the table had left the floor covered in shards of glass.

“One at a time, Kiddo,” Patton answered before Remus handed off a stack of heavy dishes.

Ro set Virgil on his feet and handed him a plate with both hands. “I guess Poppy’s got a point,” he said with a little smile.

Nodding, Virgil looked down at Janus’ feet. “Don’t wanna hurt Papa again,” he said in a tiny voice.

“Oh, buddy,” Janus crouched down and ruffled his hair. “We don’t want you to get hurt, right?”

Lo stood in the corner, quietly watching as Virgil’s sad little face bloomed under the care and attention from his dads. Lo was smiling, but… fuck if his eyes didn’t look like they had back at Aldi’s.

“Hey there, handsome.” Remus sidled up to him and murmured near his ear as the more chaotic four were fire-bucket passing plates from the kitchen to the table.

“Hey there, yourself,” he whispered, pulling his arms around him. Lo drew close but he was stiff, the incident at the store clearly still weighing on him. But he chuckled when Janus pretended not to see Virgil hiding behind Patton’s legs, the little boy’s giggle contagious. “I’m alright, I promise,” he murmured, turning in Remus’ arms and laying his head against his shoulder.

“There you are!” Janus cried out, lifting the little boy up in the air, delighted squeals of laughter bubbling out of him. “Whew, what a relief! I thought you’d left for work without dinner!”

“I don’ work, Papa!” Virgil laughed. “I’m four!” he explained once Janus had set him down.

With a laugh, Patton called from the table, “I thought your birthday wasn’t until next week, Mister.” The little boy’s mission to lay out the dishes abandoned, Patton watched the chaos as he laid out the last of the utensils.

“‘Most four,” he corrected himself, dashing to the table when Ro set down the pasta. “I can serve! Uncka Woe ‘ooks hungry.”

“Thank you for not insisting we reschedule,” Lo said quietly, pushing up on his tiptoes and stealing a little kiss, slipping away before Remus could steal it back. “I wouldn’t want to miss this for anything.” His hand lingered, giving him a gentle squeeze, more like he was comforting Remus than seeking his own comfort.

He had that million-thoughts-a-minute look in his eyes again and Remus reached for him, fingers grazing over his cheek. “After they go home, we can talk about today,” he whispered.

“Mm-hm,” Lo hummed and opened the fridge. “Why don’t you help serve and I’ll be right there with some drinks.”

“Careful there, buddy, both hands on the ladle… That’s it…” Janus’ voice pulled Remus’ attention back to mild cacophony in the dining room and he stepped forward, pressing a small kiss just above Lo’s ear.

“I’ll keep the Lost Boys entertained, Captain.”

Lo laughed, quiet, but genuine. Good. “That’ll do, bosun, or it’ll be off the plank fer ye!” He turned and half-seriously, lunged for him like he meant to grab him back.

“Oh, Captain,” Remus admonished, one hand over his heart. “Why I never—”

“If you’re done flirting, you should come in here before it gets cold!” Ro called from the other room, accompanied by Virgil’s little giggle.

“Oh, you are one to talk, dear brother,” Remus shot back, grinning. Still, he moved to the dining room and gave the table one last check before he sat down, looking away as he ruffled Virgil’s hair.

Virgil just ruffled his hair back, going up on his knees in his chair, laughing as he raked his hand down through Remus’ hair and covering his eyes. Peeking through a veil of curls, he posed. “Love it! I’m keeping this style!”

Virgil spotted something over Remus’ shoulder and he wiggled in his seat. “Oh, Uncka Wogan, can I have a strawberry one?”

Remus laughed and turned, ready to ask if Lo liked the new hairdo, but his throat went dry when he saw the bottle of Jack tucked under Lo’s arm. He pushed back his hair and tried to meet his eyes but Lo was busy wrangling the drink tray.

“Of course, Virgil,” Lo smiled and passed Virgil a bottle of fizzy pink drink they’d bought for some cartoon promotion. Eco-Guardians or She-Ra or something. He set down the tray, then slid into the seat next to Remus and cracked the seal on the cap.

“I thought tonight might be a good one to unwind a bit,” Lo explained, bottle held up in offering to the rest of the table.

Janus smiled, glass extended. “Why thank you, Logan,” he murmured with a little nod.

“Oh, none for me, but thanks,” Patton grinned and scooped an extra pile of broccolini onto Virgil’s plate.

Roman caught Remus’ gaze, eyes wide. The brothers didn’t need words to know each was just as confused as the other.

Lo didn’t drink. Some people didn’t care for the taste, some people had that one drunken party with friends that turned them off of it forever. Some people, people like Remus, quit when the problems it caused grew worse than the problems the booze seemed to solve. The ten-year AA chip in his pocket was proof of it.

But Lo? Lo had never even tasted alcohol. What the fuck was he doing with a bottle of Jack Daniels?

After he served Janus, Lo served himself three inches of the amber liquid, the scent hitting Remus’ nose and churning through his head. Next to him, Virgil pinched his nose. “What’s that?”

“It’s a grown-up drink, Kiddo,” Patton leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “And it’s okay you don’t like how it smells.”

Lo stared into his glass for a long moment, then raised it. “To family,” he murmured and they all followed suit, even if Remus’ hand shook so much his water threatened to spill over the lip of his cup. Lo drained half the glass in one wincing gulp, then set it down next to his plate and took Remus’ hand.

He squeezed it and looked from Lo’s eyes to the hall, his silent question probably clear to everyone including the kid.

“I am fine, Meus,” he murmured. “It is… actually quite good.” Lo pondered the liquid swirling in his glass before finishing the last of it. He immediately poured another.

“Lo, take it easy,” he whispered. “That’s… that’s… you gotta…”

“Are you sure you don’t want some,” he asked, pushing the filled tumbler his way.

“What?” He’d’ve sworn he was losing it if Ro hadn’t shifted on the other side of the table and cleared his throat.

“Re doesn’t drink, Logan,” he said quietly. “You know that.”

“Lo?” He shook his head and tried to capture Lo’s eyes.

Finally, Lo looked up at him. His cajoling words didn’t match the sadness in his eyes. “Just a little won’t hurt, Meus.”

“Yes, it will, I can’t—” he pulled away, the tremor in his hand spreading up his arm. “Lo?”

“Perhaps we should be going?”

Janus’ voice cut through the buzzing in his ears and Remus turned to his brother. Ro was frozen in his seat, one had stretched out to stop Janus from moving. “Why don’t we all just let people decide for themselves what to drink, Logan?” he said carefully. Peacekeeper, as always. Even as his own voice trembled.

That, and Remus’ shaking, seemed to have snapped Lo out of whatever the fuck this was and he let the glass clunk back down on the table. “Meus,” he whispered, then hung his head. “Of course,” he said a little louder before looking up at the others. “My apologies. It has been… an eventful evening.”

He took Remus’ hand and brought it up to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Meus,” he whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

Remus breathed, the iron chains around his neck and chest finally loosening, and he reached out to stroke Lo’s cheek with his other hand. “Love you, Lo,” he whispered back. “We’re good.”

Lo melted against his side and Remus released his hand long enough to curl his arm around his back. “Please forgive my… behavior,” Lo murmured. His eyes lingered on Ro’s and he nodded.

“I’m good whenever Re is,” he smiled and nodded to Lo. It was like the whole room took a deep breath and exhaled.

Virgil’s little hand stretched across Remus’ chest and patted Lo’s arm. “Poppy says acc’ints happen,” he nodded, squeaky voice solemn. “And it feews better to say sorry.”

A little huff of a laugh spilled out of Lo’s lips and he reached out to hug both of us. “Thank you, Virgil,” he said, just as seriously. The kid’s bright little face turned up at him like a flower and Lo ruffled his hair. “You’re quite right, it does.”

“Hey, Kiddo, how about you finish your dinner before it gets cold?” Patton said after a moment, and the other three adults exchanged small glances, having a whole fucking coversation with a few expressions.

They seemed to conclude whatever the hell that had been had passed and Janus picked up his fork. Nodding, he savored a bite of his food. “Mm… You’ve outdone yourself tonight, Remus.” He chuckled when Virgil took a big bite and imitated his yummy noises.

Lo’s head was still resting on Remus’ shoulder and he’d picked up his glass again, slowly nursing it. He watched Remus watching his slow sips and finally shrugged. “I’ll have some pasta in a bit,” he murmured with a little smile. “I promise, Meus.”

“You’d better,” he chuckled, hiding the worry still churning in his guts. “That whiskey’ll really get you if you don’t have something in your stomach.” To be honest, he didn’t have much of an appetite, either. He could feel Ro’s ‘casual’ glances their way and knew his brother was minding him as much as he was looking after Lo.

Lo just hummed and finished the glass before taking a bite and pouring himself another drink.

“Oh, somebody’s just all tuckered out,” Patton chuckled, lifting Virgil out of his chair.

“Not sweepy, Poppy,” he mumbled, eyes falling shut as soon as his head touched Patton’s shoulder. “Jus’ wistening.”

“Mm-hm, I know,” he smiled and jerked his chin at Lo. “I wasn’t talking about you, Kiddo. Look,” Patton said quietly, rubbing Virgil’s back and grinning up at Ro and Janus as they returned from the kitchen. The quiet chug-chugga-hum of the dishwasher matched the rhythm of their footsteps. “Papa and Daddy are all done with the dishes.”

“You really didn’t have to,” Remus said quietly. Again, Lo’s head rested on his shoulder, heavy and, after the weirdness of their night, reassuring.

“Wanted to,” was all Ro said, squeezing his other shoulder. He cooed a bit at Virgil, already asleep in Patton’s arms, then gave them a little wave.

Janus gathered their jackets and gave him one last look. “Do you need a hand with anything?”

“Nah,” he said. “We’re fine. The door’ll—”

“Ro’s got his key,” Janus said with a little smile. “Dinner at our house on Friday?”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” he nodded, stroking Lo’s hair.

Lo lifted his head as they moved to the hallway. “Goodnight,” he said in a rush, and a little louder than his usual voice, like he thought they’d already left.

They waved back with a little chorus of goodbyes and, in a few moments, the house was quiet again. “What do you think, Love?” Remus asked after a moment. “Are you ready for bed?”

He straightened, leaning heavily against the seat back, then nodded. “It would be wise.”

“Can you walk or would you like me to carry you?”

Lo reached out and touched his cheek, just staring at him with fuzzy eyes. Remus was about to give up and just scoop him up into his arms when he rose, a little shakily, and held his hand. “Let’s walk together.”

Once in their room, Remus helped him into pajamas and got the both of them settled under covers. Lo clung to him, one arm wrapped over his belly with a hand tucked under his ribs like he feared otherwise he’d just float away. Remus stretched to turn out the bedside lamp and Lo settled closer. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, words slurred. “I didn’t… I…”

His voice grew thick with tears and he sniffled quietly. “No, no, no, Lo,” Remus whispered, drawing one hand through his hair. “We’re okay, no need for more sorries.” He sort of melted against him, some of the tension in his back softening. The iron grip around his waist didn’t let up, though. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?”

Titling up his chin, Remus peered into his eyes in the mostly dark room. A bit of light spilling in from the streetlights outside revealed the doubt creasing his forehead. “Okay,” he said anyway. “Will—” Lo’s voice cracked. “Will you hold me as I fall asleep?”

“As though there’s any other way I’d want to drift off,” he chuckled, hoping to pull a laugh or at least a smile from him. His eyes shone in the darkness, wet and glassy with unshed tears.

“And will you hold me in your dreams, too?” he asked.

“Always, Lo.”

Nodding, he laid his head back down against his chest and, after a few moments, whispered again, words slurring and voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry, Meus. So, so sorry… no other way.”

“Shh, we’re okay, Lo,” he murmured back, brushing his hair from his face. “I promise. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He tightened his arms around Remus’ belly even as his breathing grew slower and steadier. “Love you, Meus,” he whispered just before his arms relaxed and he drifted off to sleep.

“I love you, too.” Remus listened to him breathe for a long time, but finally his own eyelids started to droop and he pressed a little kiss into his hair. It was warm and soft, and the spicy scent of his shampoo fought valiantly against the sour smell of the whiskey. The gentle spice was winning.

“Goodnight, Lo. See you in the morning.”

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 18, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Hey OP where’s the funny header gif for this post? Sorry, it was murdered by an angst demon and the framing of these shots.

My Found Family Came to Find Me

Continuing our flashback from last time, we see Baby Wei Ying up a tree, refusing to come down because he's afraid there are dogs. Eventually he falls out of the tree, like a dumbass a child, and Yanli tries but fails to catch him.

Unlike his grownup counterpart, Baby Wei Ying doesn't pretend he's unhurt when he is hurt. I'd like to put the change at Yu Ziyuan's door, but actually he admits to being hurt during his Gusu summer - he mimics Lan Zhan's stoicism when they're getting beaten, but it doesn't come naturally to him, and he whines a lot afterwards.

By the time of the Animatronic Dog incident, however, he's laughing off obvious injuries that have secret trauma behind them. By the time he comes back, coreless, from the burial mounds, he won't confide in anyone about his hurts any more, except possibly Wen Qing.

Yanli carries Wei Ying, in a sequence that will be echoed much later in his life when Lan Zhan carries him (gifset here). While they head back, she tells him that Jiang Cheng has a bad temper and to ignore whatever mean things he says. This will also be echoed in the future, when Wei Wuxian says it to Lan Zhan after their argument with Jiang Cheng in the shrine.

Yanli also explains that Jiang Cheng loved his dogs and that he's been very sad since Jiang Fengmian sent them away, demonstrating once again that Jiang Fengmian is a terrible father. Yanli says that Jiang Cheng will be happy to have a friend with him, though. This kind of makes Wei Wuxian's role in Jiang Cheng's life "replacement dog."

Jiang Cheng, after getting over this particular snit, got worried about Wei Wuxian and woke up Yanli to find him, and then went wandering around in the dark like a dumbass a child, and is banged up and crying when the other two find him. Yanli encourages him to apologize to Wei Wuxian and he does, which will not happen again until the very end of the show.

They all smile and laugh together, as Wei Ying looks to Yanli to guide him through the insanity that his life has suddenly become.

(more behind the cut!)

They head back to Lotus Pier in a sweet montage of walking and smiling together, with Jiang Cheng carrying the world's most beautiful candle holder with the world's most wind-resistant candle in it, to light their way back. Back in the present day for a brief moment, Jiang Cheng pretends to sleep and listens to his sister insisting that the three of them should always stay together, while a single tear rolls down the side of his face.

Soup is Love, Chapter 1 of 1000

Then we head to the past again. In Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying's now-shared room, Wei Ying sits on the bed trying to figure out how to deal with his grumpy new roommate.

Wei Ying is unsure what to do when confronted with pajama game this strong. Tiny Jiang Cheng is already a fashion king.

Then he tells Jiang Cheng he's not going to narc him out to the clan leader, since it was his own fault that he hurt his leg. This is all Jiang Cheng needs to hear to decide Wei Ying is all right, and he says that he will help Wei Ying chase away dogs in the future. In fact, Wei Wuxian will protect Jiang Cheng from punishment basically forever, while Jiang Cheng will continue to threaten Wei Wuxian with dogs...forever.

They shake hands on their new understanding and then jump up and down laughing, Wei Ying's leg being all better now, apparently. When Yanli arrives (carrying a tray of...can you guess? I'll let you guess), they stop jumping. Wei Ying dives in to give Jiang Cheng a little tickle/embrace in an adorable moment that would have me saying "oh, my ovaries!" if I hadn't surgically sent my ovaries to hell a few years ago.

Yanli introduces Wei Ying to the emotional and gustatorial miracle that is her lotus and ribs soup. He hesitates a long time before tucking in because he's so unused to being fed.

Consent? I Don’t Even Know Her

The flashback wraps up with Yanli conked out on the table from the drugs in the incense burner, while Wei Wuxian, who is somehow unaffected despite sitting almost as close to the smoke as she was, checks on her. Jiang Cheng and his Uggs period-appropriate sock thingies get out of bed to come stand with Wei Wuxian, and have feelings about sending Yanli away after she JUST said she doesn't want to be parted from them.

Wei Wuxian: If she didn't want us to do this, she shouldn't have signed that blanket consent-to-medical-treatment form. Jiang Cheng: Wen Qing made me sign one of those plus a durable power of attorney, is that bad?

This episode is all about people overriding each others' agency and making massively important decisions without the consent of the people who will be affected. But in a feudal context, it's not a violation, no matter how it feels to the person being controlled. In feudal life, your body belongs to your lord -- your sect leader, in the world of CQL. Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng's choices are overridden by their clan leader's final command to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian's core is arguably Jiang Fengmian's property--Wei Wuxian certainly sees it that way, just as his hand was Yu Ziyuan's to take if she wished.

The brothers tenderly tuck Yanli into bed in the rolly cart and hand her off to Song Lan. They talk about how important it is to get her to Lanling and that she's probably going to be mad, as they thank Song Lan for helping them.

Yanli listens while she sleeps and, in what is becoming a trademark Jiang move, lets a single tear roll down the side of her face. Jiang Cheng points out that Yanli never gets mad at Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is like, true dat.

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

Song Lan is always so emotional about every damn thing, I love him. Here he's like OH GOD NO DON'T FORMALLY THANK ME! STOP!!!

Then he starts to ask Wei Wuxian to pass a message to Song Xingchen for him, but then decides not to say anything, making it super obvious that they fought and aren't together.

Wei Wuxian reacts to this with confusion and distress, probably because he doesn't want to imagine ever having a breakup with his own soulmate. Which he soon will be having. But possibly he's just upset that his OTP broke up.

After Song Lan takes off, Jiang Cheng gives Wen Qing a rude & perfunctory thank-you bow, turning away before she can return it. Wei Wuxian tells her not to take it to heart - basically everyone who deals with Jiang Cheng gets a version of the "ignore what he says" speech. She says she understands and that in his place she would have behaved worse, which is so totally not true.

Then she asks Wei Wuxian if he's sure about the core transfer (not in so many words, because the script is being kind of being vague about it, without actually hiding what's happening). His reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then he and Jiang Cheng walk off, with Jiang Cheng giving us a rear view that had me googling Wang Zhuocheng's fashion shoots to determine if that wagon he's draggin’ is really as delightful as this belt makes it look. Alas, there is not a wealth of photographic evidence for this research, as compared to, for example, photos of Xiao Zhan's outstanding ass.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning see them off, with Wen Qing wishing they valued their lives more. Although, what she and Wen Ning are doing is massive treason, so their lives will be pretty much forfeit if they're caught, so...

The Sunshot Campaign of Like 60 Dudes

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng walk up the mountain for the whole beginning of the Sunshot campaign, which...okay. Maybe it's like Dunkirk or The Witcher where they intercut stuff that is happening in different timeframes, which is one of my least favorite new film style thingies.

You know, for a guy Wei Wuxian constantly calls "peacock," Jin Ziyuan really doesn't wear a lot of adornment; just some subtle metalwork on his belt with no dangly bits at all, and a single reasonably-sized hair crown. Compared to the extremely fancy Lan Wangji he's almost plain. We already know that Wei Wuxian is a massive hypocrite when it comes to his idea of a perfect boy, however.

So, this is the Lanling Jin army, which consists of literally 60 guys, including the ones on the stairs and Jin Zixuan and Douchebag Dad. How are they going to fight a war with this tiny group? Why do they have such a big plaza? Hasn't anybody on this production learned CGI cloning?

That’s better.

Nie Mingjue and his best bitch Baxia make quick work of the 4 Wen guys who were assigned to hold the Unclean Realm.

Hello, Daddy Da-Ge!

Squeeee, it's Lan Wangji! He's taking back Cloud Recesses! Ooooohhh we've missed you Lan Wangji.

Look guys he's here! Look how beautiful he is. He's looking at the gate of cloud recesses and thinking thoughts that Lan Xichen or Wei Wuxian could probably see in his bewitching eyes if they were here to see him, which they aren't. But at least he is here!

....and now he's gone again. *cries*

Hares On The Mountains

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian continue roaming prettily around this pretty mountainside. The locations in this show are such eye candy.

Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains If I was a young lass I’d soon go a hunting

Jiang Cheng starts to have doubts about the whole Baoshan Sanren thing. Wei Wuxian's reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then we have just the tenderest blindfolding scene, (more gifs here), which is fodder for your ChengXian dreams, if you have those.

Here's a good place for a sidebar about what is and isn't incest. Whee! In the CDrama context, relationships tend to be more clearly defined than in western media. The mechanism of confession & acceptance means that people either are or are not in a romantic relationship, with few grey areas. So a character can literally say "we grew up as brother and sister, but now we are dating" and when someone looks startled they just say "there's no blood relation" and everyone is like "cool cool" and that's the new definition of the relationship.

For a strong example of this, the extremely wonderful Go Ahead is about a contemporary family in which a girl and two boys, who are not blood relatives, are all raised together, and call each other brother and sister. When they become adults, they and everyone around them expect the girl (now a woman) to marry one of the two men who have been her brothers, while whichever one she doesn't choose will carry on as her sibling. It's treated as the most natural, logical thing in the world; the only question is whether she wants to make that transition, and with whom.

Looked at through this lens, Wei Wuxian's relationships with his adoptive siblings have just as much potential to turn into romances as his relationships with his friends do, and there's nothing creepy about it. As such you can expect my meta to always get into ChengXian moments without treating it as a wrong or forbidden love. Hopeless, of course, because Jiang Cheng is such a prick the power of WangXian is stronger, but that's a different matter.

What is wrong is wearing this fantastic hat & veil combination when the most fashionable person on the mountain is blindfolded and can't see it.

In the course of this blindfolded encounter with Wen Qing, Jiang Cheng gets to kneel before a powerful woman, be led along by a length of silk that's placed in his hand, and then knocked the fuck out and operated on. He'll wake up in a hotel room in a tub full of ice with "we took your kidney" written on the mirror in lipstick, and he'll love every minute of it.

Soundtrack: 1. Still Fighting it, by Ben Folds 2. Hares on the Mountain, by Steeleye Span

Writing Prompt: The NEXT time somebody blindfolds Jiang Cheng

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #chengxian #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

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mimssides · 3 years

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Words are hard and there are only so many Ways to misinterpret a Hug: Part 10

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___

Logan was back in his room and walked up to his bedroom. Pleasantly surprised, he found Remus sitting on his bed, eyes droopy and smile wide as he saw him enter. For a second Logan was going to inform Remus that they were going to do the next day but decided against it. The side needed his sleep and he was not going to get it if he would bring this up right now.

“I brushed my teeth,” Remus said with a huge smile.

Logan clicked his tongue and nodded in with a sense of pride shining through his movements.

“That is very good, Remus,” Logan told him and walked up to the bed sitting down on one end as Remus observed closely despite his sleepiness. “I will get ready for bed myself and join you now. Is that alright with you?”

Remus nodded and kept eyeing Logen. He got up, loosened his tie and laid it orderly on his dresser. Then he got out of his shoes, placed them neatly next to the dresser, pulled his shirt over his head, folded it and put it next to the tie, loosened his belt and did the same with his pants. Remus could not keep himself from watching him undress and move so casually and yet professionally. It was like magic to Remus and he hoped that it would never stop. That he could just keep looking at Logan with this empty head and peaceful feeling in his chest.

But it didn’t last, as Logan put on his long-sleeved navy pyjamas and then walked back to his bed. Remus just smiled until Logan cleared his throat and Remus finally caught on to something in Logan’s demeanour that resembled discomfort. With a frown he tilted his head and motioned Logan to tell him what was up. There came another throat clear before Logan finally settled on an answer.

“Which side do you prefer to sleep on?”

Remus frowned more. This didn’t seem like the question he wanted to ask nor the question he was so nervous about. Which meant that Remus was now very curious what Logan was afraid off and let him wake up considerably.

Not quite as energetic as usually but much more forceful than previously today Remus said: “I don’t know yet! I first need to have you on the bed as well, so I can see how you fit best in my arms.”

Remus had assumed that his proposal would get a reaction out of Remus. He hadn’t assumed that his eyes would widen in surprise and his hands fidget at the suggestion. It was not that he was uncomfortable though. No, the idea didn’t repulse him but threw him completely into a loop. And Remus did not enjoy watching that. So, he skidded back on the bed and vividly patted to the spot next to him for Logan to sit down on.

Hesitantly, Logan followed and sat down on the bed after he had switched the big light off. Expectantly Remus watched him next take off his glasses and put them on the nightstand before he cleared his throat anew and tried to ask something.

He didn’t get the words out, as Remus put his arms over his chest and pulled him down on the pillows. Possessively, he draped his right leg over Logan’s and pressed himself against Logan’s side. That cuddly attack got a laugh out of Logan and Remus happily pulled him even closer.

Logan moved a little bit around and turned off the lamp on the nightstand before he let himself completely relax in Remus’s embrace and cover them with his comforter. Moments passed and Logan was very aware of the fact that Remus’s fingers were tracing lines between his soft chest and his round belly. He liked the feeling but it also made him aware how big he was and how much place he took of the bed. He didn’t want Remus to feel squished or uncomfortable next to him.

“Please inform me if you are uncomfortable lying beside me or if I accidentally squish you,” Logan eventually settled on whispering.

He didn’t expect the laugher tickling his neck and instinctively felt his hand tightening on the small of Remus’s back before he could stop himself from doing so.

“Oh, Logie,” Remus slurred and brought his mouth close to Logan’s ear, “you’re not too fat. You're soft and warm and very, very comfortable to cuddle with. You're not smashing me like a tomato, not that I could burst like one anyway. So, it wouldn’t be fun, ya know? Bursting I mean.”

Remus waited. Gradually, Logan relaxed. His shoulders stopped being tense and he began to let his hands wander over Remus’s back until one rested on his neck and the other in Remus’s hair. Softly he scratched the skin and Remus began to drift off with a loopy grin. Logan’s heartbeat was soothing. Everything about this was soothing. Being able to hold Logan was wonderful. Having him holding him back was breath-taking.

It was almost too good to be true, Remus thought letting out a little wince. Reflexively he buried his head on Logan’s soft chest and felt the logical trait shift beneath him. Despite his tired state sleep hadn’t taken Remus yet and he felt how Logan lifted his head in the darkness as if he wanted to look at him.

There was a pause, Remus felt how Logan’s chest was rising as if he was taking a deep breath before he would start to speak. His impression had been right.

“Is this an activity you and Janus have performed together in the past?”

Logan’s voice was even. Almost professional. But Remus felt something uneasy wafting off his Logan and adjusted his head a little on Logan’s chest. He furrowed his brows in the dark and started thinking about the question. Not if it was true or not, he knew that. But why Logan would ask such a thing.

“Nah, Jan is not the cuddly type,” Remus mumbled and let his left hand rest on Logan’s chest close to his own face. “What brings the question? You’re not one to pry.”

Logan swallowed and Remus lifted his head as if he was watching him.

“I did not mean to overstep any boundaries. I apolo-”

“What is it teach? You’re not asking what you want to ask and the thought’s making you restless.”

Another pause before Logan put one hand on Remus’s and took another deep breath.

“Virgil hinted at the fact that you and Janus were an “item” figuratively speaking. Romantically, I assumed. And you and I sleeping like this could possibly worsen your relationship with him, which would not be beneficial for any of us.”

“… Lo, I wish I had a thing with Janus but the guy is also Denial, so that’s not something you need to worry about.”

Remus’s voice grew mellower and Logan felt how he slowly put his head on his chest again. He was really falling asleep now but Logan’s questions weren’t answered quite yet and he really needed an answer right now.

“But Virgil…” he tried quietly and heard Remus softly giggle before he felt his breath against his skin.

“It’s sweet that he worries,” Remus slurred the words. “He always worried about us. I liked it, even though it was annoying sometimes. Don’t think though that he still worries about us like that. Not anymore… But I’m not against trying and getting on their good side again, Lo… You’ll be able to pull it off with me, I think… You’re just right for them and me… It’ll be fine, my bug…”

The stream of words stopped tripling from Remus’s mouth. Logan’s heart was pounding wildly as Remus had switched into a peaceful slumber. Now there was nothing for Logan to do but lay here and hope that somehow, he would be able to fall asleep. His thoughts were racing but not clear enough to notice how the weight of Remus on him slowly lulled him into sleep and let him forget about the feelings blooming within him for the next few hours.

___

@varthandi

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@whattheremus

@sarenicide

Tagged for this fic:

@frawkeye

@nightweirdo

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #analoceitmus #touchy!logan #changing #logan changes in this chapter #slightly negative body image #eir writes #please reblog #Words are hard and there are only so many Ways to misinterpret a Hug

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whumpywhumper · 4 years

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Here to Help

I’ve been waiting to post this section for forever.

Recently updated master post: Here

Follows: Aftermath

Edit for Masterpost

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @0idril0 @captivity-whump @whumpitywhumpwhump @walkingchemicalfire @comfy-whumpee @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @voidwhump2 @untilthepainstarts

Markus woke up abruptly, jerking into consciousness with pain spreading through his chest as he gasped a full breath into his battered lungs, his back arching as his muscles rebelled at the unexpected agony. His eyes snapped open, and he whined as his nerve endings fully registered the deep, penetrating ache that dug into every crevice of his body. The sharp, consuming wounds in his stomach and chest.

His esophagus was raw from where the tubes had been removed from his throat, and it felt like he was breathing through razor blades. The breathing mask over his face pumped humid, tepid air into his mouth and nose, but it did nothing to soothe his abraded airways. The curtained area they’d moved him into was dark, the machines he was still connected to whirring and blinking, their small lights unable to completely light up the area.

He felt his eyebrows furrow in slight confusion, even at night, the curtained area hadn’t been this dark. The constant fluorescents had peaked underneath the floor length fabric, the air flow creating a dance of lights in the closed area. Picking his head up slightly, his throat rebelled at the new angle, lungs contracting viciously.

His barking, choked off cough was snuffed out by pain that drowned him. Smothering and opaque, the pain blocked everything out as it swallowed him whole. He went down.

Down.

. . . down.

Only to catch himself on the precipice, a sense of dread and fear keeping him from giving in to the tidal wave that threatened him. Something’s out there.

He crawled his way back to consciousness, prying his eyelids open as he sought what put his senses on edge. A brief, staccato popping followed by a demonic screeching in the distance made him wince, a cold sweat enveloping him as his stomach sank. What is that?

Markus felt his heart speed even through his drugged, feverish haze, his mind moving sluggishly as it tried to put two and two together. He startled as the blood pressure cuff around his bicep tightened, a lance of pain jolting through him with the unexpected movement. He moaned quietly, shuddering as the surge of adrenaline washed over him. Left him feeling so tired. He wanted to move, get off of the bed and hide, at least pull the blankets over his head. Feel safe. But that desire was futile.

He was still restrained, the soft cuffs around his wrists keeping him from pulling on the tubes and wires that framed his torso. The “nurses” hadn’t taken them off since he had ripped the chest tube out, had instead replaced them with buckled restraints that clicked in place underneath the bed. Stretching his drugged senses, he tried to hear anything that would give him an idea of what was going on, but quickly gave up. He was was surrounded by quietly whirring machinery, the bubbles of the replaced chest tube filling his ears. And he didn’t have the energy to care anymore.

Sinking into the pillow, Markus tried to ignore the pain in his body, letting his eyes fall closed.

Sleep hadn’t quite claimed him when the sound of muted voices entered his ears.

“Go, go, go.”

The heavy tramp of boots and jangle of tactical gear made Markus blink his eyes open, an odd clacking on the tile tickling his memory; so out of place in the vampire nest. But a heavy, anchoring fear made him freeze, hold stock still as his brain went offline. He bit his tongue against a distressed whimper caught in his throat. Cutting his eyes to the side, he saw the jumping, jerking flash of lights under the curtain that surrounded him.

Another soft voice, “clear,” followed the clink and slide of curtain rings in a metal track. He wanted to call out, but fear strangled him, made it feel like there was a fist clutched around his trachea. He was taking short, choppy, staccato breaths; the oxygen mask filming with condensation.

He stopped breathing altogether when the curtain around his bed was thrown open, black clad figures drowning him in the excruciating light of their halogen flashlights. He flinched, hard, his arms tugging on the cuffs in a pointless attempt at covering his eyes.

Markus could feel the gun barrels pointed at him, the deadly projectiles a hair pin trigger away from boring large, painful holes in him. He squeezed his eyes closed, turning his face away from the lights, and opened his palms on the blankets in surrender. Please, please just do it quick.

“Non-hostile, sending in Delta.”

It was impossible for the weakened witch to go anywhere when the heavy tread of footsteps came closer, the clack on the tiles sounding through the room again, but he tried to sink deeper into the mattress. Shaking uncontrollably, pain and fear stealing his faculties. The heart monitor he was hooked up to started to beep in warning.

A whimper forced its way out when a heavy weight bounced onto the bed near his knee, and he shrank away when something cold touched his hand. But the touch came back more insistent, the snuffling push and pull of air moving up his arm. The weight repositioned itself, pressing into the mattress by his ribs, away from the tubes and wires. Markus’s eyes fluttered open when he felt the tell-tale touch of a wet tongue against his cheek.

A dog?

Markus turned his head, still shaking and feeling weaker and weaker the longer he held onto consciousness, and was greeted by the serious gaze of a German shepherd as the animal retreated and lowered itself to lay against his side. Its heavy head rested comfortingly on his good hip.

Moving as far as his restraints allowed, he buried one hand in the dog’s soft fur, feeling the cold slide of tears down his temple.

The soft voice from before made Markus’s gaze slide to the black clad men. “Non-hostile is not infected, Ben and Kincaid, prep for evac.”

Two figures stayed behind as the rest of the platoon peeled off. The dog, Delta, jumped off of the bed as her handler fell back into his position. The retreating flashlights illuminated the rest of the room, and the pulled curtains partitioning the space into empty squares.

Markus immediately missed the warmth of the dog next to him, feeling bereft and vulnerable again. A renewed, hollow ache in his chest feeling a little more ripped open. He was supremely conscious of the trilling of the monitors beside him. The way the oxygen mask stuck to his face with a wet seal from the condensation his uneasy breathing caused.

Blackness was playing with the edges of his vision. It spread further when one of the men lowered his rifle, the shoulder strap making the gun swing to his back, and stepped toward him. He unclipped a small lantern from his belt, which he clicked on to illuminate the area surrounding Markus’s bed, hooking it to an abandoned IV pole from the neighboring cubicle. As soon as his hand was empty, he held it out to Markus while the other went to the balaclava covering the lower part of his face.

He revealed a handsome face with a square jaw and a hint of black beard. The guy’s smile was strained, but his voice was gentle. “Hey man, we’re going to get you home, okay? My name is Kincaid and this is Ben—“ he gestured to the other man—“he’s gonna make sure you’re okay to move, alright? How does he look, Ben?”

The other black clad figure also lowered his mask, adjusting his gun so that it was on his back, out of his way. “Vitals are a little strained, cupcake,” he said to Kincaid, “but I think we need to know more about what’s going on first, huh?” Ben’s smile was conspiratorial as he looked toward Markus, their flashlights and the lantern revealing the crinkle of his eyes as he stepped up to grab the chart from the end of his bed.

As he approached, Markus couldn’t help drawing away, inexplicably terrified of this new person invading his space. He’s just trying to help, fuck. His hands fisted loosely in the hospital blanket, his fingers still trembling, and he felt a bombardment of pain through his torso as he tensed. Sucking in quick breaths, Markus felt like he was breathing through a straw, and the machine next to him gave an obnoxious, shrill screech.

Kincaid’s eyes snapped over, and he opened both hands toward him. “We’re gonna move slow and easy, okay? I’m gonna tell you everything we’re going to do before we do it, and I promise that we’re gonna do our best to make this as painless as possible, okay? Can you nod if you understand me?”

Markus could feel the steady stream of tears leaking from his eyes, fuck, he was so scared. But he gave a tiny, slow nod, locking eyes with Kincaid’s honeyed hazel ones.

Kincaid smiled, keeping his open stance as Ben, in his hazy periphery, backed away to look at his chart. “Good, good job, is it okay if I come over there and take those restraints off?” Another tiny nod. “Okay, I know I wouldn’t want to be strapped down like that, so let’s get those off.” He stepped forward, and Markus shuddered, swallowing roughly against the short whine in his throat. He stared at Kincaid’s square hands as they came closer, feeling his heart galloping in his chest. “Hey, sweet guy, look at me, look at my eyes.” The hands paused, and Markus drug his eyes up to the other man’s face. “Just keep looking at my eyes, I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

Blinking away tears, he nodded, taking a gasping breath. Kincaid didn’t touch him as he handled the restraints, clever fingers making quick work of the cuff even as he kept his eyes trained on Markus. The witch kept his hand buried in the blanket as the other man worked, too tired to even pretend to help. He couldn’t stop his sob when the cuff was drawn away, the bandaged scabs on his barely healed wrist aching.

“Okay, now for the other one, alright?” Markus nodded again, holding perfectly still as Kincaid leaned over him to reach the other cuff. He could feel his warmth through the blankets, and it was so fucking human that it made his heart clench. This time, when he was free, Markus turned his hand to grab the other’s, desperate fingers latching on to warm, human skin. Kincaid startled, and they both gasped as a spark of magic traveled between them.

A wave of relief washed over Markus, and he felt the tension in his body release even as tears still coursed from his eyes. A witch.

The other man closed his eyes tight as he gently squeezed Markus’s fingers, lips compressing into a thin line while he drew in a deep, shaking breath through his nose.

“Kincaid?” Ben had shuffled forward, looking at them over Markus’s chart, worry clear in his expression.

“We might’ve found who put that message out, Ben. . . “ His voice was strained, holding something that the barely conscious witch couldn’t identify.

Markus couldn’t make himself move his eyes from Kincaid’s face to see Ben’s reaction, but his voice held a shred of surprise when he answered. “Okay, that’s good to know, think it will affect anything on my end?”

Kincaid shook his head, opening his eyes with a sigh as he met Markus’s bleary gaze. His smile was even more strained than before, but Markus couldn’t find it in himself to worry anymore. Another witch wouldn’t leave him here. “No, it shouldn’t affect anything right now. Might help some things actually.” His other hand wrapped around Markus’s, warming the aching bones. His thumb rubbed a soft, comforting rhythm over his skin, interrupted by the bandages wrapped around his hand. He met Markus’s unwavering gaze, the sheen of professionalism worn away, “We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

He nodded, no more than a tiny inclination of his head, and felt his eyelids start to droop as his body took advantage of the relief he was feeling. The shrill beeping of the monitors quieted as Markus drifted. He was safe.

“Kincaid, come here for a second.”

With a final brush of his fingers against Markus’s, he tried to lower his hand back to the bed, but Markus whimpered. His eyelids flickered as his fingers tried to hold on to him. Don’t go, please. Kincaid hummed at him, “Okay, I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

Boots scuffed the floor, and Ben cleared his throat before whispering to Kincaid. “This chart is fucked, babe. I want a closer look before we move him, but right off the bat, we’re going to have to keep a pretty close eye on his airway. He’s got a chest tube, multiple broken ribs, and he’s apparently been recovering from a recurring bout of pneumonia—that’s on top of being stabbed and beaten. Even from here, I can tell his lungs sound like shit.” He growled through his teeth, “I’m not sure what kind of idiot took him off of the vent so soon, but I can see why they’re not actually practicing in a hospital.”

He sighed, “I’m going to need one of the e-vac gurneys, and a transport cart, but we’re going to have to wait until the area’s been completely cleared. I don’t want to run into any of the vamps while moving, and this bed won’t fit into the elevator. I’m pretty fucking sure none of the other captives we came across were this bad off, so we’ll have first pick of the ambulance, at least.”

Kincaid cut in, his fingers still wrapped around Markus’s hand, “What’s his name?”

“Hm?”

“His name, does it say what his name is?”

“Oh, uh, no. It just has some initials—“ there was the shuffle of movement, and Markus’s eyes slid open as a hand was placed on his arm. Ben hovered over him, on the opposite side of the bed from Kincaid, and lifted the corners of his mouth in a small smile when he saw Markus looking at him. “Hey there, honey, can you tell me your name?”

Markus drew in a raspy breath, and tried to push the syllables out of his mouth. “Ma—“, but as soon as the soundless roll of the “R” hit his palette, his lungs objected. A violent, barking cough made his frail frame shake in the bed, harsh, wheezing breaths sucked in through the oxygen mask. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to relax his body against the pain of his ribs, unconscious, inaudible whimpers falling from his mouth with every strained exhale. He was drowning again, circling down, a numb darkness cloaking his brain.

From a distance, Ben’s voice registered as he tried to breathe. “Shit, okay, O2 sats pretty low there. Try and breathe with me, honey. In. Out.” He stroked his arm in time with his over exaggerated breaths, Markus doing his best to hold on as the pain morphed, centralizing to an area in the right of his rib cage. His head lolled to the side as oxygen finally made its way back into his body.

He didn’t even try and open his eyes again, let alone talk, laying limply in the bed as if pure exhaustion had bulldozed him. “Okay, don’t try that again, that vital crash was pretty dangerous.” The medic’s voice was detached as he spoke over Markus, no longer trying to draw his attention.

“I need to see how bad this nest fucked him up. Can you go get that rolling gurney we passed in the hallway? Faster we get him loaded, the faster we can leave when we get the clear.”

“Yeah.”

It sounded as if Kincaid stepped away, and Markus realized he’d lost physical contact with the witch in his coughing fit, his hand laying abandoned on the mattress. He couldn’t summon the energy to feel afraid, the lingering feeling of sparking magic calming him. The unexpected sound of ripping velcro, though, made him flinch, and he groaned.

“Okay, honey, I’m going to listen to you with this stethoscope and try and get a feel for some of these other injuries.” Ben’s fingers started to peel back the blanket, and Markus didn’t offer any resistance as the medic pressed the cool circle of the tool to his chest, the bite of the metal dulled by his gown. He maneuvered the blanket out of his way as he listened at each new spot, making sure to keep Markus mostly covered and warm.

Ben muttered under his breath as he worked, hissing profanities. “Fucking hell, honey, what did they do to you? They tore you the fuck up, is what they did. God, fuck these assholes, your lungs sound like shit.” Markus tensed when he felt bare fingers worm their way under the top of his hospital gown. His weak hand automatically went up to the guy’s arm, grabbing hold, eyelids fluttering. Ben’s voice followed, gently soothing as he pried off Markus’s hand and pressed it back to the bed. “I need to see these tubes and what we have under some of these bandages, so don’t fight, okay? We’re taking care of you, I promise.”

The snaps of the hospital gown clicked open readily to the medic’s hands, and he concentrated on breathing through the harpoon in his ribs. Ben checked the placement of leads, his fingers clinically probing his chest as he methodically worked his patient over. Markus whimpered when that gentle probing turned painful, the medic’s fingers pausing as he found the insistent grinding in his side. “Fucking hell,” he growled, vehemently. Ben moved on quickly, loosening the sticky tape covering the bandages over his stomach to see his other incisions and stitches.

Boots and the metallic clink of rolling wheels announced the return of Kincaid, “How’s he look, Ben?”

He sighed, voice hard as he answered, “Like shit, how do you think? Come here, we need to get him loaded up.”

The air shifted as the gurney rolled up next to him, and Markus heard Kincaid give a sharp inhale as Ben lifted the bandage over his stomach. “God damnit, Ben, you’re not joking.”

“No, I’m not.” The tips of his calloused fingers nudged along his incision sites, and Markus flinched at how he prodded at the bruised and tender skin.

A spark of magic traveled through him as Kincaid put a hand on the crown of his head, fingers brushing against his hair in a soothing, comforting rhythm. He forced his eyes open, and looked up at the other witch, his fatigued eyesight turning him into a hovering blur.

“Alright, we’re as good to go as we’re going to be,” Ben pressed the bandages back in place before continuing, “just need to be careful of his breathing, like I said earlier. Help me keep an eye on that O2 sat, if it gets below 90%, we need to get him more oxygen.”

The blur that was Kincaid moved to his side, helping Ben re-snap the hospital gown, before they tucked him into the blanket. The warm material was drawn up to his shoulders, trapping his arms against his sides. Markus swallowed heavily at the change, feeling the weak trickle of fear in his stomach from not being able to move. But Markus was too worn out to put any fight against being held down again. At least these guys are kind.

“Okay, sweet guy,” Kincaid murmured, thumbing away the tear track from under Markus’s eye, “let’s get you out of here.”

He followed the other witch with his hazy gaze as long as he could, Ben taking care of the medical equipment as Kincaid prepped the gurney, before his heavy eyelids slid closed. Plunging him back into darkness. The coughing and physical exam—even as gentle as it was—had caused an inexorable wave of exhaustion to roll through him. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to rest.

“Delta Team: Sparrow and Juniper, you are clear to move. Support headed up with rolling gurney now.”

The breaking crackle of the radio through the quiet room didn’t rouse him, didn’t make the others stop their quick efficient movements other than to reply a terse, “Heard, no support needed,” with the accompanying click of hard buttons.

Warmth wrapped around him, making his tired body relax, the slow meandering of his thoughts like molasses in winter. Markus sunk under, letting the sounds of their work roll over him. His awareness shrank to the feeling of blankets and bandages, the slow drag of air through parted lips, how his chest grated with the interspersed movement.

He drifted, and sounds translated into images as the clinks of plastic buckles against metal brought him the vision of ghosts knocking their chains on pipes as they sought for anyone to hear them. Moving down a hallway, in that sluggish, dazed way only dreams can conjure, searching for the dark figures that the two forms around him had turned into, rustling and shifting like birds in the treetops, or wolves in underbrush.

Something reached from the shadows, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him, Ben’s voice bubbling from the darkness—his gentle tone a stark juxtaposition to the macabre dreamscape. “Hey, honey, can you open your eyes for me?”

Markus’s eyes were open, he was searching for him, where did he go?

A warmth crept into his hand, and Markus found himself unable to look down and see what it was even as his stressed mind sought answers in the darkness. It squeezed around his hand, shaking it, voice louder than the other. “Wake up, sweet guy, open your eyes.”

Markus didn’t understand—he was awake—he tried to move himself through the sludge that coated him and find the other witch. He felt as if he was trying to move his very soul from the depths of his body, but it was like he had become detached. He couldn’t even move his body, let alone search for the guy in the nothingness around him. He could feel Kincaid’s magic, that spark sending a light through his hazy vision but it was a light twenty feet below water—shimmering and dim—completely out of reach.

A sharp pain lanced through his finger, and a moan hummed through his paralyzed vocal cords. His hand moved on its own, weakly pulling away from the spear through it. Help, please don’t.

“Fuck, babe, we gotta move.” Markus could feel his body being lowered backward, how each pull of oxygen into his lungs stuttered as he fought for a deeper breath. “On three. One. Two. Three.” A weak, little cry of pain cracked his mouth open through his fugue as his body was lifted through the air. The talons of a huge bird were in his chest, digging through his torso as it carried him away before dropping him and tearing away all of his air as it burst from his lungs on impact.

“O2 is at 89%, Ben.”

“Get his head up, grab that lever.” His head twirled with vertigo as the ground beneath him shifted, but air, plasticky and humid slid down his throat, and the fight to breathe wasn’t so overwhelming. “There you go, honey, O2 is already going back up. Hand me that strap, babe.”

“He’s secure, go go go.” The ground rumbled and shook, trapping Markus with waving tree roots as he slid back into his dreams.

#Markus/Lucien Series #finally rescued!#finally some actual comfort #medical whump #freed from restraints #Hurt/Comfort #whump

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

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Henry’s Birthday Weekend - Friday Night - His Mistress

Warning: 18+ sex toy play/mentions of cheating/marital conflict/mature language & themes. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: Hi! What started as a fun little idea has turned into something much longer than expected (surprise, surprise). I feel like Henry’s birthday deserves to span an entire weekend and be full of unexpected surprises and sexiness. So here it is... Friday Night.

Read more Henry x Mistress imagines here > Masterpost

You fiddled with the shoulder straps of the bra, making sure they didn’t cut into your skin. The oxblood lace didn’t cover much, but that was the point. The garter belt around your waist matched the red of the bra, although you wouldn’t see the finished product until you clipped the garter straps to a pair of stockings. Those were waiting behind the purchase counter.

Satisfied with the set you chose, you slid the lock from the door and peered out with a smile in hopes Henry was paying attention. He looked up from his phone and gasped like you had strutted out nude.

“Babe! I told you, I don’t want to see it yet!” Henry covered his eyes with his free hand.

“Okay, okay,” you withdrew into the change room, locking the door behind you. “I think this is the one.”

“Great. We’ll pack it up and take it home.”

Henry held your hand with his right and the bag from the lingerie shop in his left as he escorted you to his car. He opened the door for you, waited until you sat down, shut the door and circled to place your purchase in the trunk. Before sticking the key in the ignition, he reached between his legs under the seat and pulled out a small box wrapped in pink paper.

You instantly glared at him.

“Henry! It’s your birthday, not mine!” You berated.

He smirked and passed you the box. “It’s a gift for me.”

“Then why are you passing it over?”

“Well, because... It’s also a gift for you. But mostly for me.”

When you woke up that morning, you got the feeling Henry’s version of a birthday celebration would have a lot to do with giving you gifts. The lingerie was one thing. He could justify that it was for him, but the pink box confused you. Until you ripped open the crepe paper wrapping, you glowered at the item in your hand. Then you turned over the box, and it all made sense.

Henry’s smirk developed into a beam he couldn’t reel back. He adjusted in his seat, slicked back his hair and played with the knot of his tie as a distraction.

“Wow. This is—okay, I can see how this is sort of a gift for you.” You held up the box and giggled.

It was a palm-sized vibrator in cotton candy blue with a flat side and an insightful diagram on the back of the package. Henry pulled out his cell phone and waggled it.

“I can control it with my phone.”

“I see that,” you sang.

“You’ll wear it for dinner. Along with the set and those heels I bought you last week?”

His uncertain tone propped your eyebrow. “Oh, I will, will I?”

His large hand slid up your knee and ruched up the fabric of your pencil skirt to squeeze your thigh. “Yes, you will.”

All ambiguity in his voice melted away, and the expression left on his face was one of sternness. When Henry bucked up, straightened his tie and asserted himself, he passed well for threatening. It reminded you of the way he carried himself at work and how his subordinates took him as seriously as a bomb set to explode. It was his birthday, after all.

“Yes, sir,” you agreed.

“Good girl.”

Out of nowhere, Henry decided it best to drop you off at home to get ready for the night. Before he left, he instructed you again to wash up like he meant to eat off your skin, wear your new lingerie set under your outfit and stash the vibrator between your legs. Then, after a long kiss goodbye, he gave you a wink and left you to stew in the excitement.

You laid out the night’s outfit, showered, shaved, and prepared for an evening of secret naughtiness, humming as you went. The vibrator rested in its package on the foot of your seldom-used bed. It called out for inspection as you towelled off from your shower. You plucked it from the packing foam and caressed the smooth finish with your thumb.

There was a button on the vibrator and a small, oval-shaped magnet to help lock it into place. Before you touched the raised nub to turn it on, your work phone rang. It skittered across your vanity table with each vibration until you picked it up, scowling at the screen as though it had slapped you.

Mary Deaver calling

Whenever Henry ignored work calls or forwarded them away, it redirected them to your work phone. It was standard practice, and you were used to receiving client calls during odd hours, but Mary’s name gave you a dreadful empty-gutted sensation. For a moment, you considered ignoring the call, but that would be unprofessional. You had to keep a cool head and answer the call just like you would for any other person.

“Good afternoon, Henry Deaver’s office.”

Mary chuckled from the other end. “It’s funny how he has you answering the phone as though you’re in the office.”

“I beg your pardon, Ms. Deaver?”

“Oh, so you know who I am?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “Mm-hmm. Caller display, ma’am.”

“Henry isn’t in the office. Where is he?” She asked.

You glanced over at your bed, covered with gifts from Mary’s soon-to-be ex-husband. It filled the hollowness in your gut with a warm trickle of satisfaction that rose and rose until your chest was alight with amusement.

“Usually, I’d be able to answer that question for you, ma’am, but today is Henry’s birthday, and he’s out of the office.”

“I know it’s his birthday, you twit. I’m his wife.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m sorry, Ms. Deaver, but Henry has taken the day off. I think I heard him mention golfing.”

“It’s Missus Deaver. And I’ve called his buddies. He’s nowhere to be found.”

“I’m sorry, Mary. I’m under strict instructions not to bug Mr. Deaver today.”

Her scoff grated your eardrum. You held the phone from your face, glaring at it as though spit had come flying through the earpiece.

“I want his girlfriend’s number.”

“Mary—”

“Give it to me. I know he has one, so don’t play dumb. He told me.”

You sighed, mock-patience dragging out your breath until she stopped talking. “I can’t give you any information about my boss’s personal life. Please, Mary, I’m just trying to do my job.”

“I don’t want to get angry, girl, but you’re not making it easy. Can’t you see what he’s doing? He’s cheating on me, and everyone is allowing it to happen! They’re all patting him on the back and running circles for him. Would you think a fellow woman would recognize this and come to my defence? No!”

All you needed was another repeat of Mary’s hailstorm of insults, and the thin strand holding you back from screaming would snap. You listened as she droned on about women helping women, but she was pandering to the wrongest ear possible.

“Mary,” you cut her off. “You’re separated. You’re both locked in a divorce settlement. I can’t treat you like his wife when I know that’s not true.”

The line went quiet. Then, a bubbling of laughter popped against your face. “You know... I was going to make it easy for him, but not anymore.”

“Miss—”

The line hacked off, and you stood in the middle of your bedroom, staring at the black screen of your phone. With a heavy sigh, you opened a new message to Henry and told him about the call you had received. He replied within seconds.

She’s called me twenty times. I think I should just answer. She probably wants to wish me a happy birthday.

The last thing Mary said to you before hanging up fastened on the edge of your lips. Did you want to ruin Henry’s entire day by relaying her cryptic threat? On any other day, you would have told him the unabridged truth, but not on his birthday. Not after the wonderful morning and before the evening’s promises took flight.

She was angry as hell and asked for your GF’s phone number.

Awkward.

Very much so. I gotta say, Henry... I’ll be thrilled when she gets it through her head that you’re no longer husband and wife.

Why? What did she say?

She just demands information on you. I told her you said not to let anybody bother you and that you MIGHT be golfing.

That’s good. And I know, baby. I’m sorry. All I can do is work through this as fast as I can.

I know.

After the call, you didn’t feel sexy and titillated as you had after your shower. But you couldn’t let it cut holes in the night’s plans. You had to suck it up, breathe deeply, and remind yourself that divorce proceedings were a long and stressful process, and you had jumped aboard of your own free will. You signed up for this.

When Henry pulled up to collect you, the incident was long from your mind. You’d taken a couple of hours to reset, dress and figure out the most comfortable spot to hide the vibrator in your panties. At first, the toy felt too foreign for comfort, like a pad that had no business lining your underwear. But the longer you spent with it pressed against your most sensitive spot, and the more you thought about how much fun Henry would have teasing you, the more you disregarded its existence.

Until you got in Henry’s car, and he pulled up the phone application, you forgot about the object stowed away in your undergarments.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Making sure it works before we head out,” Henry replied.

He pressed a button, and a fine buzz tickled to life. You clenched your legs together, eyes round and wide as Henry giggled and asked, “is it working?”

“Yep,” you peeped. “She workin’.”

Dark amusement moulded a leer so devastating on his face, and you wanted to forget the dinner and go back to the condo to have sex instead. Henry couldn’t stifle his entertainment.

“Okay, I’ll turn it off,” he said, and then nudged the cursor up, increasing the intensity.

“Henry!”

“How’s that feel, baby? You like that?”

“Stop, stop, stop, stop.” You clutched the edges of your seat.

Henry relinquished, turning the toy off and pocketing his phone. “Oh, my God. This will be so fun.”

Your boyfriend had been correct. The night was full of teasing and low whispers detailing what he wanted to do to you after he got you back home. At the dinner table, you sat with your fingers gliding up and down the stem of a wine glass, awaiting the buzz to startle you.

After the waiter took your menus away, Henry casually reached into his pocket and set his phone in his lap where he could navigate in secret. The vibrator hummed to life, and you flinched, causing the wine in your glasses to tip back and forth. The rumble between your legs heightened, then dissipated, only to peak again and again and again. Up and down, low to high, back and forth until you shot him a playful, accusatory look.

“I can’t believe I... I agreed to this. Um. Oh... Oh, Christ. Henry.”

He anchored his cheek to his propped fist, his other hand under the table playing with the app. To on-lookers, it would appear Henry was staring lovingly into your eyes from across the table which was normal behaviour for him, but his trigger thumb was happily teasing you from afar.

“How about we keep it on low for a while? You think you can handle that?” He asked.

“Maybe,” you breathed out.

As promised, Henry lowered the strength to the first level. Yet, even that setting shook your core with devilish waves.

You lifted the wineglass to your lips and calmly took a sip, though you were anything but calm. The sensation dug into you, culling forth wetness that absorbed into the gusset of your new panties. It was time to start playing back.

“Wow, I don’t think anything has ever made me this wet before. Honestly, I feel like I’m sitting in a puddle.”

Henry masked his intrigue with a snort and a long sip of wine. “Is that so?”

“I’m not kidding, Henry. It’s like the Falls down there. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything with you after if you... If you—”

That same darkness from before overrode his face, a rare expression that unsettled your emotions. Henry leaned over the table to stroke the back of your palm. “Who said you have a choice?”

You flashed your teeth. Henry was playing a rather lewd game by firing off a warning shot. Tonight was about what he wanted, and not what you doled him. It’s what he wanted for his birthday; to be the big, bad man with the power. But there was no way you could resist rocking the boat.

“Henry, please. The sommelier is coming right this way. You have to—”

“Let him come,” Henry shrugged.

He reclined—a cool, calculated smile on his face, pupils dilated.

The tinkle of piano keys mixed with the low murmur of guests was enough to muffle the sound of the vibrator, but only just. If you pressed down on the chair, the toy would hum louder and garner attention. You had to clench your thighs to stifle the noise. Henry knew you struggled and took his time discussing the night’s wine choice with the sommelier. The man was enthusiastic about Henry’s assessment and played favourites with your table.

Talk of cherry notes, oak and nuts were a poor distraction. You cared not for the history of the region the grapes yielded from nor the casual brushing from one topic to another, unrelated one. The man had to leave, and Henry wouldn’t allow it.

The purring between your legs felt more like a hiss after long. Pressure built up in your groin, and you were unsure if you had to pee or if you were on the brink of a powerful orgasm. Whatever the sensation, you pushed your chair out, nodding at the two men.

“Excuse me. I have to use the washroom.”

Henry’s mouth snapped shut as he watched you leave your seat and walk toward the restrooms. When you were out of sight, you let your expression slacken. By the time you entered the lady’s room, the vibration had stopped. You halted, waited for a second and scoffed when the toy stirred again.

You waited a minute in the restroom, washed your hands and picked the lint off your outfit as you composed yourself.

In your rush to return to your roguish boyfriend, you pushed open the door and clipped a man’s shoulder. He recoiled in the hall, whipping you an offended scowl before his eyes took you in. You recognized the man, but couldn’t place him in your memory. You forgot about the toy going haywire in your underwear and went pale.

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” The man asked.

A prickle of alcohol from his mouth tainted your airways, and you realized the man you’d hit with the door was one of Henry’s colleagues. A man named Frank, whom you hoped you would never have to see again.

“Yeah, I do know you! You’re from the hotel.”

“Um, no. I don’t—I don’t work there.”

“But you did!” Frank exclaimed. “I couldn’t forget your face.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“What’s a little server girl from the Southside doing up in my neighbourhood?”

You backed away, shrugging, and chuckling your nerves down. “Just on a date. Sorry, I should go.”

Then you turned and shot off to your table. Henry spotted the worried look on your face and waited for you to sit down before asking questions.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Mm-hmm, yep. Oh, except that Frank guy you work with is here, and he saw me in the hall.”

Henry’s chin wrinkled, the faint dimple glimmering as he drew in his eyebrows. “Frank? Frank, who?”

“I don’t know. Could you please stop the thing now?”

It was too late. Frank spotted Henry from across the dining room. “Henry goddamn Deaver, is that you?”

Frank’s voice carried over the music, earning several queer looks and murmurs. You tapped the table frantically with your finger as the man lumbered forward into the eye of the dining room.

“Henry, please. Henry. Now. Turn it off. Please,” you hissed.

He fidgeted with his phone, turning up the strength by accident in his haste. You made a face like swallowing a shot of lemon juice. The rumble gyrated and continued to do so until the very moment Frank bumped into your table. It ceased, and you let out a frustrated breath, covering your face with one hand to mask your identity.

“Hang on just one hot minute now. Southside, you’re not on a date! You’re trying to shake me like last time. And Deaver! What the hell are you doing out this late? Isn’t it past your bedtime? Won’t Mary wring your neck?”

Then it was Henry’s turn to hide his face. “Frank, would you lower your voice? The whole restaurant is looking this way.”

Frank’s brow knit together while he tried to fit the pieces together. He stared at you, then at Henry, then back at you. The lopsided grin between his red cheeks flattened.

“What’s going on, Deaver?”

“I’m having dinner. It’s my birthday.”

Frank thumbed at you. “This your side-piece?”

You, mortified, let Henry handle the reigns of the conversation. Without a comment, you downed your wine in one large gulp in hopes the alcohol might wash away your embarrassment.

“No. This is my whole piece. I’d introduce you, but you’ve already met.”

“No shit, you’re banging the cutie from the coffee shop now? What about Mary?”

Henry’s cheeks, already pink from wine, then turned red. “We’re divorced.”

“What!”

More eyes locked on your table as you sank into your chair and wondered if it would be rude to fill your wine glass up to the brim. Henry turned his pursed lips out, rubbed four fingers across his forehead and sighed. “Frank, good Lord, can’t you be quieter? Do you have a megaphone stuck in your throat?”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Deaver? I swear we just saw each other, and you were happily shackled.”

“This,” Henry remarked. “This is why I didn’t tell you. Because I don’t need attention and public humiliation.”

“Frank!” A woman’s voice, equally voluminous as Frank’s cut through the tension.

Frank’s face drooped, all zeal rushing away. The woman beckoning him motioned him along with an impatient wave of her hand. It was his wife, you presumed, and she had her coat on.

“Fuck me, Deaver. You got life sorted, don’tcha? Hot little girly-friend, no more ring. When the hell are we getting together to celebrate?”

“I’ll have my assistant call you,” Henry said.

Frank waved his club-like hand, missing your face by a bare inch. You recoiled in your seat and blinked a few times to showcase your concern.

“Bullshit, Deaver. I’ve heard that one before. Come on. We gotta get together and go to the titty-bar or something. You’re single now!”

Your boyfriend opened his mouth, but no words tumbled out. Instead, he chuckled while shaking his head and motioned at you.

“Frank, I just told you I’m not single.”

The large man swung his eyes at you. He scanned you up and down, smirked and tapped the table with one hairy knuckle. “You’d let this old boy go with his friend to the rippers, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

You stared at Henry now, daggering him with sarcasm and a fake smile. “Oh, yeah! Henry can go to the strip club with you, Frank. I’m sure he’d love that.”

Henry covered his face with both hands. “I’ll call you Frank, but it looks like your wife wants to leave.”

“I’ll be waiting for that call, Deaver. And if you don’t... The phone goes both ways. I won’t let up until you say yes!”

“Okay, Frank. Have a good night.”

Frank placed his mit on your shoulder and squeezed you. “And you too, honey. I hope to see you again very soon.”

There were too many things you wanted to say at once. Henry fiddled with his apologies but came up speechless. He spread out his hands in a tabletop version of a shrug, snickering to himself at the absurdity of what had just happened. You wanted to be angry, but your mouth quirked, and soon, you were laughing.

“Want me to pen you in a date with Frank? I’m not well-versed on what adult entertainment establishments exist around here, but I can do a little research, and—”

“Please, stop. That was so, SO embarrassing.”

“Yeah? Try having a vibrator on your junk going ballistic while bumping into that hurricane of a man!”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Henry muttered.

“What wasn’t a good idea?” You asked.

“I don’t know. I—hold on.”

Henry fished his phone from his pocket. Was Frank already calling him? He squinted at the screen and scrolled his thumb up twice before clicking something.

“What is it?” You inquired.

The vibrator whirred to life. Your back snapped straight as a blissful smile poured over Henry’s face. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth. The edge of the table made a good spot to hold on to while he played with the settings on his cell phone.

“No, I take it back. This was the best idea I’ve ever had.”

#henry deaver x mistress #henry deaver fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #castle rock fanfiction

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spectraspecs-writes · 3 years

Text

Leviathan - Chapter 100

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 99. Chapter 101.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

———–

Harder than I thought, it would seem. I haven’t had so many cuts on my hands since I did field work in a prairie full of razor grass. You know, that tall grass that cuts you when you walk thought it? You never bleed from it but it hurts for a long time afterwards. But several cuts and a couple hours later, I manage to get Shaela Nur’s crystal into my blue lightsaber. I started with my purple lightsaber but for the life of my I could not get the crystal into the fitting. And when I went to my blue one, the first time, when I activated the lightsaber the crystal flew out and ricocheted off Davik’s swoop bike and hit me in the head. I guess I’m just not having a good day today. But I think I’ve got it in there nice and tight. I swing my lightsaber around, making sure the crystal won’t fly out and hit somebody else in the head. That would be hilarious but not very easy to fix when I’m away from a workbench. I spin my lightsaber with a flourish.

And I hit something.

Shit, shit, please don’t be a person. I turn around to T3’s panicked beeping. Oh, shit, that’s even worse than a person. “Oh, God, T3, I’m so sorry, are you okay? I had no idea you were in here!” He chirrups and whirs, very discombobulated. “I can fix that, I promise! I am so sorry. Can you still move okay?” He beeps in the affirmative. “Okay, good.” I dig into my pockets for my droid tool kit before I remember I gave it to Carth to hold on to. “Damn it,” I say softly, then look back at T3, “I’m going to grab some parts from the cargo hold. Go to the cockpit, I’ll be right there.” He chirps and whirs off, sparking where I hit him. I hit the secondary power coupling - it’s fixable but it means he’ll have diminished functioning until I can fix it. Which I can do no problem, this isn’t the first time I’ve done it, but I’ve never had to do it because I hit it. I am really not having a good day.

Thankfully, the cargo hold has the parts I need, so I take them into the cockpit. Carth is in there, we’re in hyperspace. “Hey,” he says, “What’s wrong with Teethree?”

“Secondary power coupling, can I have my tool kit back?”

He reaches into his pocket and hands it to me. “Kept it safe, just like you asked,” he says, “What happened? He just rolled in here, sparking.”

T3 turns his head and beeps. I scoff a bit. “Thank you for trying to spare my feelings, T3, but HK had nothing to do with it, it was all me,” I say, “I’m rerouting all functions to your primary coupling, it might tickle a little. No, this was all me, I accidentally hit him with my lightsaber.”

“Anything you can’t fix?”

“Thankfully, no, I just need to replace the coupling, I’ve done it before.” I gently pry the coupling out with my spanner. “I’ve never had the problem be my fault before, but…” I sigh. “I’m almost done, I just have to fasten this into place.”

“Why don’t you stick around when you’re done?” Carth says, “I could use a copilot.”

I smile at him. “I appreciate the invitation but I’m not sure you’d want me,” I say, “I’m not having a very good day, I might really do something wrong.”

“I still want you here,” he says.

I chuckle a bit, tightening the coupling into place. “You might regret that. Rerouting power back through the secondary coupling.” As power flows back through, there’s a small spark, which is normal, and T3’s eye lights up as he runs a diagnostic. “All good?” T3 beeps, and I release a sigh of relief. “Good. I am so sorry I did that.” T3 beeps again, forgiving me. “Thank you. I’ll be more careful next time.” T3 chirps and rolls off. I roll up my toolkit and sit down in the copilot’s chair with a heavy sigh. “I really hope my day starts picking up from here.”

He glances at me, starting to say something, but does a double take. “What happened to your head?”

I raise my hand to where he’s looking. There’s a scar there, still bleeding just a little. Didn’t realize there was a mark there. “I got hit in the head by a lightsaber crystal,” I say, running my hand over it to heal it.

“And your hands - Gods, Rena, what were you doing?”

“Turns out, modifying your lightsaber is harder than it sounds,” I say, “For those of you keeping track, today has had two terentateks, fighting a Sith master, getting betrayed by his apprentice, the political collapse of the Sith Academy on Korriban, cutting my hands, getting hit in the head by a lightsaber crystal, and knocking out a droid’s power coupling.” I say. “I could really use something good right about now.”

Carth tosses his head. “Well,” he says, “I’m about to change hyperspace routes. Once I do that it’s almost a straight shot to Manaan.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself, then,” I say, “The way my day’s going, I might knock us off course.”

Carth smiles, and he gently pulls us out of hyper speed. Brings the ship around to change routes. Another ship in the intersection - I wonder where they’re going.

“DAMN IT - hold on!” Carth shouts suddenly, and I grab onto the seat. He spins the ship around quickly, and I hear T3 down the corridor spinning out.

“What? What is it?”

“Sith!” he says quickly, “I’m gonna try to lose them!” He pushes the controls as far forward as they’ll go, to go as fast as we can, but we aren’t moving forward. “Damn it, come on, I know you can get out of this…”

“Can’t we just go to hyperspace?”

“If I just jump to lightspeed now, we won’t be on any route, we could hit an asteroid belt or a rogue planetoid and end up dead in space.” He punches a few controls, but it’s no good. The ship slowly spins around again, and we face the huge Sith vessel. Carth keeps frantically pressing controls, but it doesn’t look like it’s doing any good.

Bastila rushes into the cockpit with Canderous behind her. “What happened? What's going on?”

“Sith Interdictor ship,” Carth says, “They were waiting for us on the hyperspace route. We're caught in their tractor beam.” Finally, he slams his hand on the control panel. There’s nothing he can do.

“Do you recognize the ship?” she asks.

“It's the Leviathan,” Carth says with a sigh, “Saul Karath's vessel. My old mentor.”

This day just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. “I have no idea how we’re going to get out of this,” I say, “but gather everyone into the main hold. We need to figure this out.”

A minute later everyone is gathered into the main hold. Carth tells everyone what’s going on, then says, “Admiral Karath taught me everything I know about being a soldier. He was a legend in the Republic fleet, and a hero to me. Until he betrayed us. When the Sith attacked my home world, the Leviathan - Saul Karath's flagship - was at the head of the fleet. My family was destroyed that day and my wife died in the Sith bombardment.” Nothing I can say will comfort Carth, and I know that. So silently I take his hand. Remind him that I’m here. “I know, I know,” he says, talking mostly to me, “I'm not going to do anything stupid. I won't throw our lives away in some mad quest for vengeance.” And then he looks at everybody. “But if I get a chance to kill Saul during our escape, nobody better get in my way.”

I should try to stop him, I know. Vengeance can lead to the Dark Side. But at the end of the day, Saul’s done terrible things, not the least of which is a massacre, and he should die for his crimes. If killing him helps Carth heal, I can’t stop him. But Bastila feels differently. “Talk of an escape is somewhat premature, don't you think?” she says, “We don't even have a plan to get out of this mess yet!”

“I'll admit it won't be easy,” Carth says, “Saul's no fool and he won't underestimate us either. You can count on plenty of guards watching every move we make.”

Bastila thinks for a second. Then she says, “Maybe Admiral Karath doesn't know how many of us there are on board. We all have special talents; talents we could exploit so that one of us could stage a rescue. We just have to figure out who has the best chance to avoid capture so that they can come and rescue us later. It's a long shot, but it's our only hope.” She looks at me and Carth. “He will probably be watching the three of us far too closely for any plot involving you, me or Carth to succeed. It's going to be up to one of the others to get us out of this.”

“Well, if we're going to pick someone to save our skins we better do it quick,” Carth says, “In another minute we're going to have Sith troops marching up our loading ramp!”

My mind rushes through a half-dozen plots - HK could come out firing, T3 could pretend to be deactivated, Jolee could use the Force, we could throw gizka at them - but then I see MIssion frantically waving her hand in the air. “Ooh! Ooh!” she says excitedly. So I look at her. “I can break out of anything! Maybe I can goad the guards into making a mistake!”

“What sort of mistake?”

“If I get them mad enough, they might put me in a separate cell to punish me. With them focusing so much on you three I might be able to sneak out of my cell and come rescue the rest of you!”

Zaalbar loudly objects. “No, it’s too dangerous!”

“It’s a risk we have to take, Big Z!” she insists, “I can slice my way free from any security cell! Don’t worry, I can pull this off!”

“Mission, are you sure?” I ask. It’s a solid plan - the Sith could kill her, but that’s a risk we take with any plan, and I doubt they will kill her. Not so soon after her capture.

“Yeah, Rena,” she says, looking at me solemnly, “I want to do this.”

The ship shudders. “Hold on!” Carth says, “They're dragging us into the docking bridge!”

I move quickly over to her. “Get to the starboard quarters,” I say, “Make them come to you, fight on your own turf.”

She nods. “Got it.”

“Fight dirty, curse, piss him off. Insult his mother, if you run out of ideas.”

“Absolutely.”

I hug her quickly. “Good luck.” She nods and starts to move off, but I stop her one last time. “Hey,” I say, and I place a hand on her shoulder, “Go get ‘em.” She smiles, and runs off to her place in the starboard quarters.

This is certainly in the running for the worst day of my life.

#star wars #knights of the old republic #kotor #autistic artist #fiction #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #carth onasi #bastila shan #mission vao #t3-m4 #leviathan #chapter 100

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anothercouch · 4 years

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A Pair of Wings - Chapter 10

Angelmont is a dazzling kingdom for aspiring angel hunters and sorcerers alike. Though, when Logan finally sees the dark truth of this beautiful place, he’s casted out and labeled the local lunatic of the kingdom. He saw no logic in angel hunting and its cruel practices. Now he’s determined to prove them wrong, but after nearly ten years wasting away in a forest and losing hope, he’s on the brink of throwing his invention away. That is, until a curious angel falls from the sky right in front of him.

Word Count: 2.8k

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for reading but i might not be able to post a chapter for next week since I'm on vacation, so i decided to post the next chapter early for y'all. enjoy!

Previous, Next, Masterpost

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Janus’ heart raced as he rushed back into the forest once again, though, all he brought this time was a sword. He didn’t feel like going angel hunting, not anymore. And as he did want to keep his business afloat, he left it off to his apprentices to hunt for him. Thank goodness they all were trained enough to go hunting by themselves now, otherwise he might’ve thrown up seeing another dead angel. Though, it wasn’t exactly the reason why he was running through the forest this late. He dared look at their portrait again, and if he didn’t run to the woods, he might’ve ripped his heart out then and there. Thoughts of them were plaguing his mind, especially after his discovery. Every time he’d even see angel wings, he was punched in the gut with them in his mind. He wished he could have them back, he wished he could say sorry. Yet here he was alone in the woods, running away from his problems like a child. Pathetic.

A cool breeze passed by Janus as the full moon illuminated the night sky. He walked around, talking to himself in his head as he went deeper and deeper into the forest. There wasn’t much to see, as he’d been in this forest since he was young. He knew this place by the back of his hand and if he did ever get lost, all he needed to do was find the mountains, and walk away from them. Though, tonight, something about the mountains was calling to him. He looked up, seeing all the little caves lit up by bond fires. A tree rustled in the wind, taking him back when he was young and first starting to hunt angels. He was quite a spirited child his father would say to him. The first time he’d finally shot one down was in one go, while all the other children were still learning how to use a crossbow. Thinking about it now was just bittersweet. He was so proud in those moments but now he was uneasy, knowing he murdered people. Though there was still one nagging thought. Maybe they weren’t people, maybe he just hallucinated and was finally going crazy, isolating himself from so many people.

Janus’ sword jostled around his belt as he continued to roam around the forest, ending up in the spot where he saw those two angels. An image of them popped into his head, trying to decipher out their features. Something about those two angels were familiar, but he wasn’t sure why. He sighed, walking more as he thought about it. The forest was silent except for the occasional breeze that shook the leaves on the trees above him. He took in a deep breath, feeling the cool air enter his lungs. It made him shiver, not from the cold, but from the calming feeling it gave him. Soon, he walked around more, getting lost in his thoughts, until he stumbled upon a small clearing in the middle of the forest with a trail that was supposed to lead outside back to Angelmont. It must’ve been one of the old roads that people stopped using. There were a lot of shrubbery and wildlife now growing on the path, blocking out the small clearing from the kingdom.

“What a lovely place…” Janus thought as he walked around the edge of the clearing, hiding in the trees.

The moon shone perfectly into the clearing, almost illuminating the entire place. Janus’ heart raced, a child-like wonder filling him all of a sudden. He could feel the energy from the moonlight trickle down on his body as it shone on to him. With a careful step, he walked out from his hiding spot and went into the clearing, sitting down and feeling the energy. Though he hasn’t worked with magic much outside of using angel wings, the energy that lingered in this place filled his body. The clearing wanted to wrap him in this warm, comforting, and sad energy that was left over. Perhaps someone else was here not too long ago, though he shook his head at the thought. There were no signs of foot traffic anywhere in sight. He laid down looking up at the night sky and took in a deep breath. All of a sudden, an image of them popped into his mind, almost feeling their energy again, but he pushed it away. He wanted this time to himself and no one else.

Something about this clearing, it had history and Janus could sense it. If truly no one’s been around here in such a long time, then why was there this energy nagging at him? It warmed his body from head to toe though it panged at his chest. Another cool breeze passed by, making him smile as he looked up at the stars above. He always loved looking for the constellations in the sky. Soon, that little purple angel he saw on his hunt popped into his head. What a sad thing it-… they were. They lost one of their majestic wings and now had to live with such a burden. Though what was most interesting about them was that they didn’t seem to mind all that much. At first, he thought they lost it when they were injured, but it would’ve been bleeding out if it was. Perhaps it was an old injury made long ago. The tall grass swayed in the wind and it almost tickled at him as he continued to look at the stars that dotted the sky.

All of a sudden, a fast wind hit Janus, making a whooshing noise in the grass. He peeked out of the grass just a bit to see an angel running as fast as they could near the edge of the clearing towards the mountains. It was hard to see in the dim light but something about one of their wings were weird, almost uncanny. He kept their eyes on them as they ran, trying to see what in the world was wrong with that other wing. They came to a stop, thankfully, as they reached the edge of the mountains and he got a good look as the moonlight shone on them. The other wing was brown, compared to the purple one on the right, and it was more bat-like. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as one feature of this wing stood out. It had no feathers. He’d never seen an angel with featherless wings but what was even more strange was that the other wing had beautiful purple feathers, even though they were quite scrappy looking. The angel soon started to climb up the mountain, which he didn’t expect. They had two good wings, so why would they climb instead of fly? A wind blew by him, humming in his ears as the angel continued to climb up. Then it hit him. An image of that injured purple angel he saw with the two other angels appeared in his mind. Then he looked over to the brown wing. It looked… man made, and someone in particular popped in his mind.

“Did that lunatic actually do it?” Janus thought as he kept looking at the brown wing, “Is he alive?”

Now that Janus recalled, there was news about a certain crazy person yapping about how they could make wings without hunting angels down years ago. He scoffed at the idea before since they were nearly impossible to make. Last time he heard about them was that they ran to the forest, never to be seen again. He thought they’d be dead by now, their body scattered somewhere in the forest, but with the evidence in front of him, perhaps there was a chance they might just be alive. He laid down again, looking up at the twinkling stars. His lungs filled with cold air, calming him. Soon, another person came to mind.

“Should I tell Thomas?” Janus thought.

He knew Thomas was interested in the idea of artificial wings, but never has said more than that. Why though? Just why did he seem to care so much? He sat back up as a breeze passed by him. With a slow step, he stood up, looking over to Thomas’ castle in the distance. It was late, but if they were awake, perhaps he should tell them. He looked up at the moon, then back down to the castle as he took in one more deep breath, making a decision. It would be a long walk, but at least he’d get the chance to visit his dear friend.

✰✰✰✰✰

Janus walked down the old streets of Angelmont, feeling the history all around him, until he finally reached the gate of Thomas’ castle. Three guards stood by as he approached.

“Well, hello Mr. Chapman! It’s always good to see you!” one of the guards greeted Janus, smiling.

“It’s good to see you, too. Now, I know it’s quite late, but do you know if Thomas is still up? I have something urgent to tell him.”

“Oh, yes! The king should still be up. I believe he’s in his library right now,” they said, the gates now opening.

Beyond the gate was a gigantic garden filled with all types of flowers and plants around the castle. Lampposts lit the cobblestone walkway to the entrance of the castle, the giant doors adorned with intricate carvings. The windows all had a small warm glow to them that contrasted the cool colors of the moonlight shining down. Soon, one of the guards walked on to the path and motioned Janus to follow them. He soon followed, walking down the beautiful pathway. The smell of rose bushes and the fresh night air filled his lungs, making him smile. The wooden doors of the castle creaked as they opened, more light illuminating the path. They both walked up the small flight of stairs and soon entered the warm castle.

Torches lined the wall and a large red rug with golden details contrasted the gray stone walls. Pictures of Thomas’ family and former monarchs hung on the walls each with placards with their name at the bottom. There were various other wooden doors leading into other rooms like the kitchen or meeting room, but none were as spectacular or more marvelous than the library. He could get lost in there for days if he wanted to. His heart raced as he scrambled to find the right words he’d say to Thomas. Even though they were a trusted friend of his, something about this was at least slightly nerve wracking. How would they react to this news? Would they think he was crazy? Soon, they both approached the tall red door at the end of the hallway, and just on top hung a portrait of the current king themself, Thomas.

The guard opened the door, revealing the bookshelves that reached high up to the ceiling. In the middle of the library was a few tables and chairs for when guest wanted to read. Both of them took a left, passing bookshelves packed with every single book imaginable, and into another area of the library. In the wall there was a roaring fireplace, warming the entire area. A large rug and some soft chairs and couches circled around it along with small coffee tables. And there sat Thomas on the right, in their favorite red chair, writing in a book.

“Your majesty, Mr. Chapman is here and would like to speak with you.”

“Oh! Janus is here? Let him in! It’s nice seeing an old friend.”

“As you wish,” they said as Janus walked closer to Thomas.

A thud rang in Janus’ ears as the door closed though soon, he heard the crackle of the enormous fireplace that illuminated the little section of the library with a warm glow. It was always cozy here with the heavy smell of books and the taste of imagination that lingered in this place. As he walked, Thomas turned around and a fat grin formed on their face. That soft smile always made him smile back, their joy terribly contagious.

“It’s good to see you, Janus. Haven’t seen you in a while,” Thomas said, sweetness in their voice.

“It’s good to see you, too…” Janus said, a bit too quiet than what he expected. Their face turned from joy into concern.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on your mind?”

Janus took a seat near Thomas, now feeling his body shake somewhat as he looked at the fireplace. The image of a certain person came to mind, but he shook it away as quick as a fox. There was a silence for a moment until Thomas spoke.

“Were you thinking about them again?”

He scrunched up a bit, knowing exactly who they were talking about.

“You know, you’re always welcome to stay at my castle if you need to or just roam around for a while.”

“I know and yes… I was thinking about them, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” He paused, trying to find his words. “It’s just… I was walking around in the forest and I saw something fascinating… Something I thought was impossible but might not be.”

At this, Thomas placed down the book he was writing in and the quill on the coffee table, their eyes now wide.

“What do you mean by impossible?”

“Well… do you remember that lunatic that said they could make artificial wings and how they fled to the forest? It was back when we first met. When you became king…”

“Logan Clark? That guy? That was years ago now…” Thomas said, the fire crackling in the background, “I’ll be honest, I really wonder how he’s been doing all alone in the forest…”

“Well, I don’t think you need to wonder any longer,” he paused, “There was an angel I saw that had different looking wings when I was in the forest.”

“Really?” they said, excitement in their voice.

“Yes! One of the wings was a solid brown while the other was purple. They couldn’t fly for some reason, but it’s not every day you see an angel with different colored wings. I think that brown wing was made by that guy, Logan...”

There was silence between the two of them, Thomas with a hand on his chin and the crackle of the fire was the only thing that’d occasionally cut through the silence. Janus sat back in the soft chair, his hands on his knees and his fingers tapping as he waited for a response. His body shook a bit but tried to focus on the warmth coming from the fireplace. He watched as his friend sat in deep thought. Sometimes he wondered what went on in their mind that exploded with ideas left and right. Sometimes he wished for that creativity, that type of imagination. They’d write story after story every day and somehow their hands never got tired of the same old routine. It was marvelous how they haven’t broken their fingers yet from writing so much, both for work and art.

“Where did you find this angel at?”

Janus’ eyes fluttered as Thomas’ voice cut through the silence.

“It was in an abandoned clearing, around the center of the forest. I thought you just might be interested since I remember you were so caught up with that guy when the news first came out.”

There was another silence. Janus could tell there was something stirring in Thomas’ mind.

“I think I’ll investigate this another night,” they said, “It’s rather late and I think I’ve written enough for tonight. Would you like to stay? I wouldn’t mind.”

Janus scrunched up, thinking. They were right, it was getting late, and to be honest, he didn’t feel like walking back to his house. His legs were sore after his trek back to Angelmont, and he would like to get some shut eye soon. The fireplace was starting to die, and he shivered a bit.

“I’ll stay for the night. I haven’t hung out with you in a while anyways.”

“Alright then, my room? And I’ll get you a blanket…” Thomas said as a smile formed on their face and he stood up. Janus stood up as well, smiling back.

“Sure, and thanks…”

“It’s no problem…”

The pair both walked out of the library and back into the long hallways of the castle. An arm was soon thrown on to Janus’ shoulders, making him giggle at Thomas’ goofy face. He wrapped an arm around their middle back as they both walked upstairs. It was nice to have such a good friend.

#sanders sides #tss #janus sanders #ts janus #character thomas #ts thomas #fantasy #fanfiction #fanfic #a pair of wings by perci

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

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Jar Of Dirt Chapter 4: Baby Boy [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

Kink/Sexual Warnings: Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Pet names, Name-calling, slight verbal humiliation, anal fingering, hand jobs, oral sex, edging. Other warnings: There's an argument, Peter hits subdrop, Peter crying, confessions & feelings, they talk it through.

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 ... Masterpost (More to come!)

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Chapter 4: Baby Boy Tonight’s the last night before Peter has to leave for college again after break. He knows he should go and he will, but it’s always so hard to let go of Tony after spending so much time with each other. They were practically glued together. They’d always ghost behind each other in the lab or when they were in the kitchen. If they were watching a movie on the couch, Peter would always be curled up in Tony’s arms. He belongs there. With Tony. But he has to go to school. He not only owes it to himself, but also his friends and Aunt May, whom he’d promised he’d get a degree before becoming Spider-Man full time.

“One day, you’ll be too old to be Spider-Man. Where are you gonna work then?” Peter can still hear his aunt say it and the memory always makes him chuckle. “For Mr. Stark, duh!” But, Aunt May was right. A degree is always handy to have, especially if you have the richest man in the world funding every lecture, every book, heck, every eraser that he uses. Why not go for it? As much as Peter doesn’t like to take money, having a scholarship is his only way of getting an adequate education. Besides, he gets to come to the Tower every weekend, so that’s when he and Tony get to make up for the lost time. They’re sitting on the couch, watching Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. However, Peter’s more occupied with Tony trailing his hands up and down Peter’s body absentmindedly. It doesn’t tickle, yet it’s enough. The boy’s been hard since they sat down and he doesn’t care if Tony notices or not, but after one and a half hours into this film, he’s squirming.

“Mr. Stark?” He whispers, causing the man to look down at him through half-lidded eyes. “Hm?” “I wanna get the jar.” A bright gleam appears in Tony’s eyes at Peter’s words. “You wanna get the jar.” He repeats monotone. Peter nods. “Mhm!” He takes Tony’s hand off his body and starts kissing it. Palms first, then his fingers, one by one. “Don’t you?” He asks, feigning innocence as he flutters his eyes, wetting Tony’s index finger quite lewdly with his tongue. “What’s gotten into you, boy?” Tony asks with a smirk as he moves to sit upright, bringing Peter along with him. “Last day here, Mr. Stark.” He leaves one feathery kiss on the tip of Tony’s middle finger before moving away from him. The older man nearly protests, but catches himself. “I know what you’re doing, Peter.” A playful shimmer appears in Peter’s eyes and he quickly gets up to rush to the jar on the counter. “I just want to play!” Peter exclaims, not knowing the word means something entirely different to Tony. It makes his cock twitch in his pants. “Hoo, boy,” he mumbles under his breath before getting up. Peter twists the lid off the jar and presents it to Tony.

“It’s… Your turn again, right?” Tony nods. “If we keep track, then yeah.” He moves to put his hand in the jar, but hesitates. Peter notices. “Everything okay?” Tony clears his throat and nods sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah, just building suspense.” Peter doesn’t buy it. Tony’s hand starts playing with the pieces of paper again, much like he did the first time. Peter glances at the jar and that’s when he realizes what Tony’s doing. There’s a slight discoloration to Peter’s pieces of paper, from traveling back and forth to uni with his notepad. They’re slightly more coarse too. That means the bright, smooth, white papers are Tony’s. And he keeps picking up his own pieces and immediately letting go of them. He’s cheating. “Hey!” Peter exclaims, pulling the jar back slightly. “No peeking, no feeling! Just grab one!” Tony’s eyebrows go far up and he takes a deep breath. “I’m trying to spare you, kid.” “No sparing. Just grabbing.” Peter’s stern voice sounds adorable. Kid’s not great at giving orders.

“Fine,” Tony groans. “Just hope I won’t regret this.” He aggressively rummages through the jar with his other hand covering his eyes. He suddenly stops and pulls out his hand, presenting it to Peter. “Here,” he says. “You read it.” Peter’s fingers gently graze past Tony’s as he takes the piece of paper out of his hand. Peter places the jar back on the counter and Tony finally uncovers his eyes, praising the stars that he managed to grab one of Peter’s. He gets to make the boy feel good again. At least… “I don’t think you’re going to regret this one,” Peter says with a mischievous smirk. “Daddy.” Tony gulps and needs to grab the counter to stay upright. “Excuse you?” “You think I didn’t notice?” “I don’t know wha-” Tony has to pause to clear his throat and collect himself. “-at you’re talking about.” “A couple days ago… I jokingly called you that nice, short, little word that’s on this piece of paper.” “And I thought you were sweet,” Tony huffs. Peter presses his lips together into a cheeky smile. “Oh, but I am, daddy.” “Kid-” Tony warns. Peter turns the piece of paper as he saunters closer to Tony, putting the roughly scribbled down word right in front of Tony’s eyes. His mouth goes dry.

Daddy.

“I just liked the way you flushed when I said it. Figured I’d put it in.” Peter now stands against Tony, who’s leaning his entire weight on the counter. The boy presses himself to Tony’s thigh and slightly shakes his ass, causing friction and making himself moan. The sweet noise shoots through Tony like a missile. “Daddy...” Peter drops the piece of paper and looks up at Tony with his big innocent-yet-not-so-innocent eyes. “Tonight’s about you.” “Fuck, kid, you’re ruining me.” Peter’s hands crawl up Tony’s chest and start unbuttoning his shirt. With every opened button, Peter presses a kiss on the skin that bares. “I will be such a good boy for you tonight, if you make me.” The corners of Peter’s mouth curl up and he moves up to kiss Tony on the lips, briefly. In a bold action, his hand quickly roams down Tony’s body and he grabs the hard-on, clearly evident in Tony’s pants. The man is having a hard time keeping himself together and he gasps. The boy doesn’t break eye contact and flutters. “Make me, daddy.”

Tony growls low in his throat and he grabs hold of the front of Peter’s shirt. “Oh, aren’t you the prettiest little tease, baby. You’ll be begging for me.” He pulls him in for a rough kiss, his cock painfully hard in his jeans. Peter gasps into the kiss, overwhelmed by Tony’s lustful response. He loves it. Loves how he seems to have found a weak spot in the ever so put-together billionaire. He lets Tony turn them around and get pushed against the wall. He whimpers, bucking his hips forward to try and seek friction against Tony’s upper leg. “Uh-uh, that’s not how this works, baby.” Tony’s voice is deep and dark against his neck, the hot breath making him break into goosebumps. “What’s your color, at this moment?” “Green, Sir.” Tony sucks in a sharp breath. “And if I want you to kneel right here and suck me?” “Even greener,” Peter grins. “Kneel for daddy,” Tony chokes out. Noticing how weird and good it feels to finally say it out loud. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t jerked off in the shower thinking about this just a few weeks ago. And then again a few days ago. And maybe a couple of times in between.

Peter drops to his knees, looking up with those big, beautiful brown eyes. Tony licks his lips, slowly unbuckling his belt and dropping it to the floor. Peter shuffles a bit closer, his hands trailing up Tony’s legs. “Can I help?” “Yeah, undress me, baby.” Peter nods eagerly and moves his hands up even further, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. His fingers curl around the waistband of both Tony’s trousers and his underwear and he looks up expectantly. Tony nods and the boy slowly pulls down Tony’s clothes until they hit the floor. Peter’s eyes can’t break away from Tony’s throbbing cock. His mouth salivates, knowing it’s going to have a snack soon. “What are you waiting for, boy?” Tony cocks his head with a grin. “You’ve seen it before. Go on,” he coos. “Have a taste.” Peter opens his mouth, eyes still not tearing away from Tony’s dick. “Tonight you’re going to have to earn to be called my good boy. Work for it, Peter. I know you can.”

That’s all it takes for Peter to wrap his hands and mouth around Tony’s dick. His lips leaving wet sloppy kisses on the head, while he jerks off the billionaire. “Is that all you got?” Tony hisses. “Baby, you can do so much more. Make me feel it. Make me feel you.” Peter takes the challenge and takes Tony in his mouth as far as he can, hollowing his cheeks and pressing his tongue up the shaft. Tony bucks at the sudden increase of stimulation and shivers run down his spine when Peter tries to speak with Tony’s cock in his mouth. “Ye- Daddy.” Peter works faster and harder and it’s not long before Tony’s knuckles turn white as he grips Peter’s hair, tugging and pulling at it to set a good rhythm. His panting starts to become erratic, as are his slight thrusts. Peter feels Tony’s dick twitch in his mouth. He must be close. Peter wants to make him cum. He wants to make his daddy cum. He sucks as hard as he can and when he accidentally grazes his teeth over the shaft, Tony’s eyes open wide and he orders with a gasp. “Stop!”

Peter stops immediately, looking up a bit startled, immediately wondering if he did something wrong. Tony lets out a breathy sigh and he caresses the boy’s cheek. “You’re so good, but I don’t want to come just yet. I want to do something new instead.” Tony pauses, smiling at the curious glance that’s given to him. “If you want to do it as well, I would love to have you on your hands and knees on our bed-” Tony whispers, lifting Peter’s chin up a bit higher. “-and then put my fingers inside that pretty body of yours.” “Fuck, you serious?” “Watch your language.” Peter’s eyes go dark at the memory of the conversation they had a few days ago, only this time, Tony is literally asking for Peter to repeat it. “Yes, daddy.” “That’s right. Now, would you like my fingers inside you, baby boy?” Peter just nods, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. Tony helps him get up and gives Peter a playful smack on his ass as the boy stalls in the hallway. “Go on, baby.” “Hmmm, one day I might want you to do that again.” With that, Peter runs towards the bedroom. Tony is certain now, this boy will be the death of him.

It doesn’t take long for their clothes to be discarded at Tony’s side of the bed. Peter is on his hands and knees, looking back over his shoulder as Tony rummages through the drawer of his nightstand to find the bottle of lube. The boy would be lying if he’d say he isn’t nervous. He is. Tony has… Teased him, down there. But they haven’t done this before. He wants to, God. He’s been having the filthiest dreams about it. It’s just that now that it’s about to happen, it’s a bit scary.

“I… Tony, will it hurt?” Tony freezes on the spot and then turns around fast at those words. Peter is looking at him, his eyes filled with worry and Tony curses under his breath for not thinking about how much of a virgin Peter still is. “No, baby. Fingering will not hurt you. I mean, it could if not done properly. Believe me,” Tony says, his fingers trailing across the smooth surface that’s Peter’s bicep. “Only pleasure awaits.” “I trust you,” Peter’s voice comes in a few seconds after and Tony swallows. “Good boy, letting your daddy take care of you.” Peter moans in response and Tony grins at him. Damn, Peter is just perfect for him. This had been one of the kinks he’d been scared for most - hence the reason he didn’t put it in the jar. He’d been terrified the kink combined with their age difference would be considered too pervy. However, Peter seems to be very much into it and that makes Tony feel so light-headed in the best way possible. It’s almost a dream.

“I’m ready,” Peter whispers, taking Tony��s silence for hesitation. Tony collects himself and scoots closer to his lover. He uncaps the bottle, squeezing a good amount of lube onto his fingers, and then also dripping some on Peter’s ass. “Oh, shit, that’s cold.” “M’sorry.” “N-no, I like it.” Tony looks at the boy’s beautiful ass, it’s perfectly shaped, really. He can’t wait for the day when he can finally bury himself deep inside of it. He’s patient. And he loves fingering, actually. He wonders how susceptible Peter will be for the pleasure of it. He slowly traces his lubed fingers down, using his other hand to hold his hips tightly. Peter shivers, arching his back right away. “Relax, baby boy,” Tony breathes as he uses his index finger to circle just around the tight opening. Slowly, he adds some gentle pressure and watches how the tip of his finger slides in. Peter gasps, clenching around it. “Shhh, that’s okay, you’re doing so well for me already.” Tony waits until the pressure on his finger is released, then sliding in just a bit further. God, how he missed doing this for someone. The tight heat, the trust that comes with it. He takes his time, pushing his finger all the way inside.

“How’s that?” “S-Strange, but I think I like it.” “Oh, you do, uh? Now, how’s this?” Tony whispers, curling his finger as he tries finding Peter’s prostate. It doesn’t take him long to locate it, Peter cries out startled, his hips bucking forward. “Really good, fuck, how come we never did this before?” That’s exactly what Tony wanted to hear, so he touches it again, the needy, desperate sounds falling from Peter’s lips going straight to his cock. The boy is clutching the sheets, his upper body lowered down onto the bed. His cheeks are clearly flushed, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth slightly open. “Can you, uhm…” Peter groans, his words stuck, “-use a second finger? I want to really feel you fill me up.” “Oh yes, yes baby. One day, I’ll fill you up with my dick, uh? Would you like that?” Tony growls as he pulls back slightly, only to add another finger, slowly moving them apart inside of Peter to create some more stretch. “Very much, daddy.” Peter’s already seeing stars. He’s never done anything like this before. He’s never said anything like this before. His cock throbs and he arches into Tony’s touch even further. “-Want it so bad. Want you to fuck me as hard as you can.” He hides his face in the sheets for a second, before taking a deep breath. “Claim me, d-daddy. Make me yours.”

Tony grunts, moving his free hand towards his cock to give himself some sense of relief. He closes his eyes for a moment, squeezing himself tightly. Imagining that’s Peter. He doesn’t stop fingering the boy, increasing his pace. Peter is muffling his sounds against the sheets now, his moans going stronger all of a sudden. Tony’s eyes open up again, and he sees Peter is stroking himself hard and fast.

“Oh no, baby. Get that hand off yourself right now.” “But, daddy-” “No, you either shut your mouth and stop stroking yourself, or I’ll take my fingers right out that pretty hole.” Peter whimpers, reluctantly letting go of his aching hard on. He feels like he’s so close. Tony’s fingers inside him are the best feeling in the entire world and he just wants to find that sweet release so desperately. “I’m so close, Sir,” Peter chokes out. “Please, please can I come.” “Oh, you beg so nicely,” Tony groans, his voice dark and filled with lust. Seeing Peter losing himself is making him feel so many things. “Just a little longer, I’ll make it so worth it, I promise.”

Tony grunts, stops stroking his own cock before he won’t be able to stop himself from coming too soon. He’s close too. Dammit, this boy is fucking with his head so good. He grabs the pillow that’s right next to Peter’s side, and pulls it underneath the boy’s hips. He slows down his thrusts, his fingers no longer curling down. “You’re gonna hump that pillow till you’re bordering the edge. No cumming just yet, and no stopping too early. I want you on a 9 out of 10, alright? Show me how much you want it, and maybe I’ll reward you.” He notices the way Peter fists the sheets even tighter, the blush creeping up his neck now too. But he doesn’t miss how Peter clenches around his fingers and slowly shifts his knees backward so his groin is touching the soft, silken pillow underneath him.

Peter feels slightly embarrassed, but fuck, that’s turning him on even more. Besides, he’s so horny. He just needs the stimuli, and if this is how he can get it, he will. He swallows, slowly starting to move his hips back and forth and gasps at the sparks igniting deep inside his stomach. “D-Daddy,” he groans. “Like this?” “Fuck yeah, that’s it. Little faster, make yourself feel good, honey.” That’s all the encouragement he needs to pick up the pace, pushing his hips down with a bit more force and rolling them with an arched back to create just the right amount of friction. He can’t help the desperate sounds falling from his lips. This feels good, perfect. Way better than he could’ve imagined. Tony’s fingers start speeding up again as well, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

“Oh, look at you, Peter. Aren’t you gorgeous like this,” Tony breathes out, moving faster and faster, eliciting more breathy groans from his lover. “You’re so desperate. You like this, don’t you? Like following daddy’s orders like a good little boy.” “Y-yes!” “You close? Do you want to make a mess, coming all over the sheets?” Peter nods to that, admitting that fuck, yes, he’s getting close. His entire body is filled with the intense desire to release. He’s aching for it. His mind is spinning, disregarding everything that’s not Tony’s demanding touch. “I-I’m at a 9, Tony. Daddy. Please.” “Stop moving, lift those hips up baby.” Peter listens, though it takes every last bit of willpower he’s got left. He gasps as he arches his back even further, his butt sticking up in the air. His cock is throbbing, screaming at him to keep going. More touch. More friction. He needs it. But he will listen. He’s good. He’ll please Tony, he trusts him to not leave him hanging like this.

“Oh, yes, that’s it baby. You’ve done so well, I’m so proud of you.” Peter responds with a soft whine. He can feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Tony licks his lips, shifting closer. His free hand moves around Peter’s waist and without warning he grabs the hard, leaking cock. Peter cries out, throwing his head back. “You’ve earned your reward. You don’t have to hold back anymore. Show daddy how good you feel.” He starts pumping fast, no remorse. He wants to make his boy cum. Wants to hear him scream for Tony. “Go on,” he growls. Peter whimpers, his fingers pulling the sheets so hard he’s afraid he might tear them. He can’t help himself. His entire body is drunk on adrenaline. “Ruin my sheets.” Tony’s hand moves up and down relentlessly. Then, his thumb flicks right across the tip and Peter screams, ripping the sheets apart as he comes, spilling himself all over them. He can’t breathe. White flashes appear before his eyes and his hips buck up and down uncontrollably. He’s shaking, his body giving out as he goes limp underneath Tony’s touch.

“That’s my pretty boy,” Tony whispers gently. He looks down at the boy who’s still panting fast and shaking with pleasure. He feels his heart tug in his chest. He doesn’t think he’s ever made Peter come this hard. “You okay, honey?” “Y-Yeah, just… I…” The boy doesn’t know what to say, he’s immensely overwhelmed with everything. Tony is careful as he slowly withdraws his fingers, only to lean over Peter and wrap his arms around the shivering body. “You cold?” “A bit… Mostly just sensations,” Peter manages to get out. The poor boy looks so tired. “Here, lemme help.” Tony moves onto his knees and gets off the bed, scooping the boy up in his arms and kissing the top of his head. “Let’s get you in the bathtub.” He helps the boy climb down into the tub and gets the warm water running. He strokes Peter’s cheek. “I’ll go change the sheets so we can take a nap once we’ve got you cleaned up, ‘kay?” Peter nods absentmindedly and closes his eyes. Tony dries his hand on a towel and makes his way back to the bedroom.

He scoffs proudly when he sees what Peter’s done to his bed. He might as well toss those sheets out the window. There’s nothing left of them. Donating them would be an insult to the charity. He pulls all the bedding off the giant king. He replaces them with a beautiful dark blue linen. Peter had once mentioned the natural fiber fabrics are easier on his senses when he’s sleeping. Anything too chemical or plastic-y made him itch slightly. The first few nights with his new powers, he felt like he couldn’t breathe in bed and it took him ages to find out why. It always irks Tony he didn’t find the kid sooner. Peter had to go through the physical changes all by himself and he’s still suffering some of those repercussions. Tony will do anything he can to make Peter feel as safe and as comfortable and as cared for as he can.

Tony finishes up making the bed and he grabs the ruined sheets from the floor to throw them in the trash. Suddenly, a wicked thought creeps up on him. He grins and tosses the sheets in the hamper. He wants to keep these. Call it a memorabilia. The first night daddy made his pretty boy rip the sheets from pleasure. Tony pulls a face. The thought reminded him of his own dick, still throbbing. He’s going to have to take care of that when Peter’s out of the shower. Speaking of… The boy’s taking longer than he usually would. Peter’s all about quick showers and he’s been in there for at least ten minutes at this point. Tony’s eyebrows rise to his hairline, the thought of Peter having fallen asleep under the stream of water causes him to rush to the bathroom. He knows Peter can’t just drown like that, his spider senses wouldn’t allow him to. But still. He needs to keep his boy safe, that’s the whole fucking thing he was just thinking about. When he gets to the door, he hears a faint sniff and his heart sinks.

Peter’s… Crying?

Oh no.

Tony gently opens the door about a quarter of the way, not immediately walking in. “Kid?” He asks quietly, testing the waters. Peter sniffs again, not replying. Tony peeks his head through the door and he could burst into tears right then and there at the sight. His blue balls long forgotten. Peter sits on his butt under the stream of warm water. He has his knees pulled up to his chin and he’s hugging his legs, resting his head on top of them. His wet hair sticks to his face and his eyes are red, tears mixing with the water flow. “Hey, hey.” Tony walks in and squats down next to the bathtub, not daring to touch Peter, wanting the boy to reply before invading his space. “What’s going on?” Peter slightly turns his head to look Tony in the eyes. His brows are curled up into a pleading frown. “Tonight was supposed to be about you.” His voice cracks as he speaks. His eyes squint slightly, blinking away the shower water and his tears. Tony’s heart sinks to his stomach. He musters up a half-smile, and cocks his head as he reaches for Peter to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Oh, Peter, it was. You were so good for me.” Peter jerks his head away from Tony’s caring touch, leaving the man to pull back his hand, slightly hurt by the rejection. “Then why am I the one who just had the most intense orgasm in the whole Tower? Why are you the one who’s still hard?”

Tony sucks at his teeth, not immediately sure how to reply. “I-” Peter’s voice shoots up a few octaves and he has to look away to collect himself before continuing. “I wanted you to feel good tonight.” “Baby,” Tony sighs, sitting up on his knees to bend over the side of the bathtub. “You have no idea how good you made me feel tonight.” Peter hides his face in his arms, curling up into himself further. “But you didn’t come.” His voice sounds muffled. “I know you’re just gonna jerk yourself off when I get out of the shower like you almost always do.” “Peter.” Tony’s voice is slightly more stern now and the boy immediately looks up at his mentor. “What?” Peter protests. “I’m right!” He scoffs. “Why won’t you let go for me? Why am I the one who has to let go all the time? I want to see you lose your composure. I want to feel you lose your rhythm cause you’re so desperate to release. I want to hear your loud, obscene moans. I want you to come for me!”

Tony stares at the boy, flabbergasted at the sudden burst of words. “Peter, I-” “And you wonder why I’m insecure? About all of this? Wonder why I’m scared you’ll get bored of me? I rarely get to touch you the way you touch me. If I truly am the sub you say I am then why won’t you let me help you feel good!” He hides the bottom half of his face in his arms. “I don’t want to dom. I just want to please you. And I feel like I’m not good enough to make you cum. Your own hand is apparently all you want for that.” “Peter, no… Hear me out, please.” Tony clears his throat. “My pleasure comes from making you feel good. There’s nothing in this world that gets me harder than your voice whimpering my name. But I’ll admit-” Tony shrugs. “I get carried away.”

Tony stands up and steps into the tub with Peter, sitting down opposite him. The few drops of water that hit him are cold to the touch. “I have this stupid drive that makes me want to make you come. Harder than the last time, preferably. It makes me neglect my own needs and once you’re completely spent and fucked out I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’d never forgive myself if I did something to you that you can’t handle or aren’t ready for. I don’t want to force my bright green upon your fiery red. Just cause I need to keep going doesn’t mean you’re able to and I’m not using you like that. Ever. Full stop.” Peter stares at Tony with a pout, sniffing away his tears. “But why go to the shower to get off? Why not stay with me. Make me watch you come?” His lip trembles. Tony’s not liking where this is headed. Peter’s confronting him with things he’d rather not confess. “I want to stay composed around you. I want you to know that I’m always in control. That I will always take care of you.” “You take care of me when you come. And you are in control of me. Always. Because I let you. Because I want you to.” Peter repeats his earlier question. “Why do you get off in the shower, Tony?” “It’s-” Tony looks away for a second, taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. “I’m embarrassed.” Peter’s eyes go wide.

“What?”

“You heard me, kid.” Tony sucks at his teeth. “You’re this young god-” Tony vaguely gestures at Peter’s body. “-splayed on the bed for me to worship. Any other man would also draw a thousand orgasms from that pretty body of yours before even considering getting off themselves. I’m this pervy old man with kinks that are used in conversations to laugh about. I get back pains when I’m tossed around the room. When everything was still vanilla, it didn’t matter that you saw me come cause it felt amazing, yes, but it’s not the kind of cumming I do when I’m doing kinky stuff, yaknow? Now, with this jar, all these kinks… I’m losing myself and I don’t want to do that while you watch. And quite frankly, I hate the way I look when I come. Especially when someone as pretty as you preceded me.” “I think you’re hot,” Peter says without hesitation, biting his bottom lip. “And selfish.” Peter twists himself until he’s sitting on his knees, leaning forward towards Tony, who moves back a little, until Peter’s on all fours. “Keeping all your dirty little secrets to yourself. It’s not fair.” Tony cocks an eyebrow. “All those dirty, little secrets are in that damned jar,” he huffs. “We’re gonna get to them soon enough.”

Peter clenches his jaw and stares intently into Tony’s eyes, their faces mere inches away from each other. They’re both still naked and the streaming water now bounces off Peter’s butt. “No more jacking off in the shower after we make love,” he mutters. “Give me your pleasure instead. Not the generic dude on that ugly shampoo bottle. Promise me, Mr. Stark.” Tony hesitates, knowing damn well he can’t get out of this. He’s never broken a promise he made with his boy and he’s not planning to. Ever. He takes a breath. “I promise…” He starts. Peter groans, knowing there’s a ‘but’ attached simply from the way Tony said it. “But only up until we grab shower sex from the jar.” Something stirs inside Peter. “Deal,” he whispers. Tony smiles and moves to stand up. “Great!” He pauses halfway on the way to stand up straight with a serious expression on his face. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not good enough, Peter. You are the opposite, trust me. I do not deserve you.” “Thank you,” Peter replies quietly. His hand stops Tony from stepping out of the bath. Tony looks down at Peter, puzzled. “Daddy.”

Tony’s eyes go wide. The name causing his half-hard dick to stir back to life slowly due to the heavy conversation. Tony smirks and cocks his head, looking down at his boy, still on three limbs, holding Tony’s leg with his fourth. Gauging how Peter's feeling right now. “Tell me, sweet boy. What do you want?” He knows he hasn’t been fair to his lover. But he’ll make it right. He can give Peter what he wants. What the boy deserves. Peter slowly moves to sit up straight on his knees, as high up as he can. His eyes are now at level with Tony’s twitching dick, staring hungrily at it, and he sighs content. “I want you to stop holding back. I want you to say everything that goes through your mind when we do this. No filter. And…” Peter shivers, staring at the throbbing cock that’s just out of reach. “I want to finish what I started.” “Oh, do you?” Tony grins. “Well… Good boys ask permission.” Peter’s eyes shoot up to look into Tony’s. They’re dark. Filled with lust. “Daddy.” His whine is a mere whisper. “Wanna make you feel good, please, may I make you feel good?” Tony lets out a long, low growl and inches closer to Peter. He slowly sways his hips side to side, relishing at how Peter follows Tony’s dick right in front of him, with his eyes. The boy licks his lips and God, Tony’s drunk on lust. “So hungry for my cock, aren’t you, sweet thing?” Peter’s jaw hangs slack, mouth opened slightly and he nods slowly as he follows the tip with his big brown eyes. “Want to taste me? Suck me dry like the cockslut you are-” Tony freezes for a second, afraid he went too far, but to his surprise, Peter moans. “Yes, daddy, want all your cum, I’m your good boy, I’m your slut.” Peter chokes out, stressing every word to let Tony know that yes, this is what he wants.

Tony nearly bursts right then and there and he swears as he grabs Peter’s head with both hands. He leans down slightly to growl into Peter’s ear. “Then take it.” He tugs at Peter’s hair. “Make daddy cum.” He stands up straight again and Peter doesn’t hesitate. To Tony’s surprise, the boy’s mouth goes past his twitching dick and starts sucking at one of his balls. Tony bucks his hips and lets out a moan. Peter’s hands find Tony’s cock and he starts pumping while he wets Tony’s balls with his tongue. He puts in extra effort to moan and breathe and whine against Tony’s skin. Not holding back the sounds he knows Tony finds so pretty. The sounds he knows rile Tony up. His tongue swirls along Tony’s balls and back up to the base of his cock. “Taste so good, daddy, s-so good.” His mouth and one of his hands switch positions. His fingers massage Tony’s balls surprisingly skillfully and Tony moans obscenely when Peter wraps his mouth around Tony’s shaft. The boy immediately starts bobbing his head, sucking hard using his tongue to follow the thick, throbbing veins on Tony’s aching cock.

“A-rgh, aren’t you the most wonderful thing that ever fucking swung into my life,” Tony groans, throwing his head back. “Such a good slut for daddy, such a good boy, keep going.” Tony’s eyes roll back in their sockets and he has to let go of Peter’s hair with one hand so he can grab the shower wall in order to keep his balance. Peter’s hand continues to pump, showing no signs of slowing down and he swirls his tongue around the tip, sucking on the head like it’s a damned lolly pop. Tony’s eyes are closed, but he’s seeing stars and white flashes and he’s hearing the porn-worthy, filthy sounds Peter makes around his cock, echoing against the bathroom walls, bouncing through his brain, sending wave upon wave of immeasurable pleasure through his entire body. The knowledge that Peter loves this as much as he does nearly sends him over the edge. Peter is his good boy. His pretty, little cockslut. And he’s taking Tony so well. He’s perfect, he’s absolutely perfect and- “Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes, yeah-yeah, just like that- j-just-” Tony’s words turn to incoherent babbling and when he brings his head back up straight to look down, he’s met with the most innocent doe eyes he’s ever seen. Looking up at him, taking in every ounce of pleasure that he’s giving Tony. Tony’s mouth opens wide, jaw tightened and he comes without warning, filling Peter’s mouth with his white, hot seed. The boy tries to take it all, succeeding better this time than when he did it first and Tony gasps after a few seconds of holding his breath while he’s coming down from his high.

Peter sits down on his heels, kneeling in front of his daddy. He’s so proud of himself. Tony looked so good when he came. Peter palms his own dick, that already started growing hard again. But he won’t come again tonight. He wants to cuddle with daddy. They both did so well. Tony slowly lowers himself so he sits on his butt in the tub again and he scoots closer to Peter, who still looks at him expectantly. He pushes the boy back a bit, until they’re both sharing the stream of hot water that’s still flowing from the showerhead. Tony hates to admit he’s a little dazed, but then again, he hasn’t come this hard in years. His hands caress Peter’s arms as he watches the remains of his cum on Peter’s face get washed away by the water. They sit there in silence, admiring each other. The lines on their bodies. Washing and caressing softly and slowly. When they make eye contact again, Peter notices Tony is teary-eyed. The billionaire finally breaks the silence with a quivering whisper. “I love you so much.”

--- More: Chapter 5 Masterpost

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Man and Wife Pt.10 - Final Part

The Future

04/28/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 8,014

Masterpost Warnings: smut, language, jealousy - both ways, FLUFF!, a smidge of angst

A/N: This is the end. The final chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who became so invested in this little series and thanks to @until-theend-oftheline for letting me have the prompt that inspired the entire series! This has been an amazing exploration of conflict within a marriage and partnership and forgiveness and thank you all so much for loving it! If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

He's as gentle as he can be with you, now more so than ever before, but it's still really fucking hot sneaking around the compound.

You and Bucky have never lacked in passion. It was how your love was born and now with what you hope is the biggest test of your relationship over, you surrender to your passion again.

Bucky's large body takes up most of the space in the closet. The smell of chemical cleaners saturates the air for one passing moment and is then mulled by Bucky's own heady scent.

As he pushes you back against the wall you sigh against his open mouth, his tongue darting out to taste your lemon-sugar lips.

You're already late to the after party, but Bucky couldn’t wait and his need for you sets your heart and hips ablaze with desire too.

“I missed you so much.” He breathes, filling your mouth with the taste of maple mead. You can’t drink but he finally relented and let you talk him into enjoying a glass of Thor’s latest brew.

It's made him hungry for you and you’re so glad you convinced him to have a drink.

“Bucky…” You mewl and he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth, licking up the taste of your lemonade.

He grinds against you but then stops when your belly gets in the way. Instead he pulls his hips back a bit and with his flesh hand he flicks the hem of your orange, blue, and gray plaid dress up to find your underwear. His fingers tickle the skin of your pelvis then slide down further until he can feel your slippery folds.

You both still, freezing as a wave of unexpected pleasure rages through your body. Bucky smiles, like he finally found his prize as you gasp, wispy sweet air breathed into his mouth as he tantalizingly traces a single like from the center of your heat, all the way up to your nub to gently coax a moan from your lips.

“That feel good, baby?” Deep lust echoes in the recess of his chest sending chilling vibrations into yours.

“Yeah.” You whimper, your voice high and hitched as you spread your legs for him.

“Tell me, kitten. Tell me how much you love it when I touch you.” His breathy instruction sounds almost like pleading. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me.”

“Ooh, Bucky that feels so good.” You twitch as he wiggles his finger and reach down to take hold of his forearm while you keep your left arm wrapped around his neck. He slips his finger inside you slowly, teasing you luridly. “Yes, that feels…oh, Bucky, I love it when you touch me.”

Bucky dives for your mouth again, growling as he pushes his finger inside your velvety core further, and kisses you breathless.

“You're so damn beautiful, kitten.” He groans as he slides his right leg between yours and nudges your feet further apart as he slips another finger inside you.

The way he caresses your belly with his metal arm tells you it's your swollen belly, the idea of you full with his babe that is driving him crazy. Why he's so excited you don’t completely understand but now that you’re eight and a half months pregnant, as huge as a house, and he still for some reason wants you, it excites you.

“Bucky…please…” You can’t take much more teasing. Your knees buckle and you slide your hand up further, fisting the soft back of the white long sleeve t-shirt he's wearing as your whole body shift down along the wall.

He wraps his left arm around your waist, hoists you back up and then pins you against the wall with his body to support your weight. Odds are this isn’t the only time your knees will buckle.

You love how he curves away from your tummy. Even though he knows he can’t hurt the baby, he's tender and soft around it but his hands are rough and quick as they tug at his pants.

The clink of his belt fills the otherwise silent closet and then you feel him frantically tugging your undies down as he leans forward and kisses the thin V of exposed skin on your chest.

Sliding into his hair with your free hand, you hold tight as he hikes your left leg around his waist and then stuffs himself into you fully. He trembles as he pushes himself in, restraining himself from the urge to ram into you.

Both of you moan, your higher trill and his booming, guttural, and almost desperately satisfied groan fill the small space and echoes too loud. Neither of you care.

You wiggle with him inside you, willing him to move and he responds, pulling out slowly until he nearly falls out before shoving himself into you again and again and again.

Your moans began as rattling breaths, small cries of frenzied pleasure escape your lips and permeate the air to mingle with the scent of sex and sweat.

Bucky nibbles your neck, licking and biting, groaning and kissing.

“Yes…” You suddenly whisper and Bucky's head whips back to stare into your lust-filled eyes.

“Right there?”

“Yeah, oh yeah, right there…Bucky…oh, god…”

“Tell me, kitten. How do you want me?”

“Harder…f-faster...Rougher, Bucky, please.”

He grins, eyes alight, and wraps his arms tighter, pulling you as close as he can to grind his pelvis into yours. Each thrust is harder, pounding against your nub as the pressure in your hips begins to build and build.

“Yes, yes! Shit. Yes, Bucky!” You grip him hard, wrinkling his shirt between your fingers as you bury your face against his neck, the shock of your orgasm almost splitting you in two. Your stupid swollen right foot—thanks, ducky—cramps as you clench, shuddering as your body shatters with pleasure.

He keeps thrusting and you twitch against his chest until suddenly he wraps his metal hand around the back of your neck and squeezes. His other arm is around your waist as he releases completely within you. Heat fills you and you sigh, almost laugh with glee as you bask in the glow.

It took seven minutes to get your quickie in and with humming bodies, the two of you scramble out of the supply closet.

You adjust your dress, fixing the second to top button back up so that no one can see the marks that Bucky's left.

Bucky smiles at you, holding his metal hand out for you. You shuffle forward and he tucks you there beneath his arm, pulling your hand up to kiss the back.

You rest your head against his bicep, exhausted but happy.

When the two of you reach the large door that leads out to the wide lawn where you’d previously had your wedding, you stop.

You straighten his shirt and he turns you around to make sure your dress is down. He turns you back to face him and straightens your hair.

“I smell like sex. They’re gonna know.” You complain, cheeks hot and ears burning.

“You smell like me.” Bucky smirks. “Besides, it's our anniversary. There'll be more where that came from.”

You smile but still worry about the team being able to tell you’ve just been ravaged in a closet.

“The first year really is the hardest, huh?” You wrap your arms around Bucky's waist and he caresses your cheeks.

“I almost lost you. The first year was hell. I’ll never risk anything that stupid again.” He assures you. “You know we could have gone to a lake or the beach? Fancy dinner? We could have done anything.”

“Except fly.” You remind him. You are eight and a half months pregnant, you’re not allowed to fly. No way you’re getting your ass in a plane.

Bucky frowns. “I never did take you on that honeymoon.”

You scratch his back and he sighs, dropping his hands to rest against the sides of your neck.

“I don’t need a honeymoon, babe.” He’s sweet to want to give you one still but the thought of a honeymoon now is just impossible.

“How about, once ducky’s a few months old, we get Auntie Nat and Uncle Steve to-”

“James Buchanan Barnes, I know you are not suggesting that I leave my baby alone after only having a few months to be with them.” Not happening!

Bucky smiles. Not surprised in the least by your reaction. “I know. I know. I just feel like such a dick for letting chasing Elias keep me from giving you all the things you should have gotten.”

“Bucky-”

“Yes, yes. You don’t need rings. You don’t need a honeymoon. You don’t need a new car.” His eyes sparkle impishly and turn the blue into icy fire. He shouldn’t be allowed to look at you like that.

Your ducky kicks in response. Hard.

“What do you mean, new car?” You narrow your eyes at him, and Bucky chuckles and pulls you up as he stoops down to kiss your lips. He laughs against them, wafting more of that maple mead taste into your mouth. When he pulls back, he’s still grinning, soft laughs in his chest. “Bucky?”

“With the baby, you’re going to need a good car. Something better than the Audi Tony’s been letting me use. I got you a little crossover with lots of space in the backseat. Good for that fancy car seat that Steve got you to surprise you with.” He chuckles louder because he just went and ruined the damn surprise.

“Bucky!” You smack his chest and he catches your hand, pulls it up to his face and holds it against his cheek.

“He was gonna bring it out during dinner. Just try and act surprised.” He shrugs.

“You shouldn’t have told me.”

He’s full of easy laughs and chuckles and you suddenly really want to drag him back to that supply closet.

“It’s just going to be the team, right?” You wonder and Bucky hesitates.

“I think from what Sam said there’s going to be a few of the S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits here too.”

You gasp and take a step back, pulling your hand from his grip. Or you try but Bucky winds his arm around your waist quickly, pulling your round belly against his own sculpted one and pressing your hand back against his cheek again.

“She’s not here, Y/N. Steve and Tony got Fury to offer her a better job and she transferred overseas. We’ll never see her again.”

However, as happy as that fact makes you, it still means that there are other girls who look and move like the blonde. There are women who chase after Bucky even after he’s slipped that silver ring on his finger. They don’t care. They want him anyway and it sucks.

You don’t relax. Instead you look out the glass windows, trying to see if there are any leggy blondes walking around or buxom brunettes. Maybe even some fiery redheads?

“Y/N, look at me.” Bucky pleads, his voice soft and hurt. When your eyes meet his he sighs heavily, slowly, squeezing you close. “I don’t want anyone but you. I love you. No one compares to you, Y/N. Can you trust that I will never let anyone come between us again?”

He looks worried as he waits for your answer. When you nod he releases a held breath and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Come on. If we don’t go out they'll send search party.”

“Okay.” You take his metal hand again and he pulls you out onto the lawn.

Several picnic tables have been gathered together in the distance by the lake. The pier at the end has been transformed into a bar, stocked with more of Thor's mead but also regular drinks and liquor for the rest of the team.

Bucky takes you towards one of the trees where some canvas seats have been set out in a semi-circle. Sam and Steve look up and both spring from their seats. They hurry towards you and Steve dips down first to kiss your cheek, Sam follows, and Nat waves you over.

“Where’s Case?” Sam wonders, watching you as Bucky leads you towards where Nat is sitting in the shade.

“She’ll be here soon. She had to change and get the kids fed before she can leave Jeff alone with them. Jess is still on bedrest and the new baby is her entire world right now.” You explain. Jess had finally had her baby and Casey had taken charge of corralling the other four kids into what passes as acceptably cared for tiny humans.

Jeff does a good job on his own, but Casey worries. She’d really prefer him to take care of Jess and lately it seems he’s doing just that and focusing on the new baby.

“Hey, Caaaaap!” The high reedy voices of several female cadets reach your ears and Steve turns away from you and moves towards them.

You heart speeds up. Bucky senses your distress and reaches up to turn your face towards him. “Ready to take a load off?”

You smile, “Yes.”

“Hey, Y/N. You missed the party. I thought out of everyone you’d be the one celebrating Elias’s capture the hardest.” Nat grins at you then smirks up at Bucky who helps lower you into the seat beside Nat. The sun is still somewhat high in the sky but late afternoon approaches.

You know she’s teasing you, so you sigh heavily, playing along. “Well, I was determined to cut loose and get wasted but Bucky won’t let me.”

He’s smiling at you when you look at him.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here for the afterparty. Tony’s got Happy on the grill and he’s being grumpy.”

You chuckle, feeling more at home with the team than you did the last time all of you got together. They’ve all gone out of their way to be as inclusive as possible and you know that Steve had a lot to do with that. Bucky’s been so focused on you, shunning the team that you’d finally had to push him to stop being so neglectful of them.

He’d fought you on it, but finally relented and you’ve been to two gatherings with Bucky since—you were too exhausted to go the other times and Bucky always came home before ten.

His hand wanders down to the back of your neck and he gives it a squeeze. “You thirsty? Want some water? Lemonade?”

You make a face, the idea of drinking anything after having all that lemonade with Casey at lunch…Bucky laughs at your expression. “Okay, how about something to eat?”

You smile, wide, eyes scrunching because you know he’s spoiling you. You’re starving. You’re always starving. This little ducky is a monster in size and they just seem to keep growing.

“Please.” You tell him and he leans down to kiss your lips with a loud smack.

“Hamburger?” He asks.

You nod and he kisses your lips again with another equally loud smack.

“Pickles and ranch only?” He clarifies and you nod again.

“You’re disgusting.” He gushes at you.

You giggle, literally giggle, and he smooshes his lips against yours a final time then pulls back with a loud, “Muah!”

“I’ll be back.” He assures you then turns and leaves to bother Tony and Happy who are standing by the pier in front of the large Barbecue pit, arguing about the correct amount of time to leave burgers on the grill.

When you look at Nat, she’s got beaming heart eyes. “You guys are too cute.”

You feel your cheeks and neck heat up, the embarrassment of being so open with the PDA catching up with you.

“We had sex in the supply closet.” You laugh, your lower lip pulled through your teeth and your hands shooting up to touch your hot cheeks.

Nat laughs. “Of course, you did. How many more weeks until you’re due?”

“Two.” You smile, reaching down to rub your bulging belly.

“May I?” Nat asks, tentative but when you nod and smile, she hurries forward and presses her hands to your stomach.

“She won’t kick?” Nat wonders, pouting because she wants to feel the baby. She reaches up and pulls her red hair back behind her ear then places her hand back in its spot.

“We might have tired our ducky out.” You don’t know if the baby’s a boy or girl. You don’t care. Neither does Bucky. You just want a healthy baby though you suspect that Bucky’s been partial towards a boy. “My ducky only kicks when I look at Bucky now. Otherwise, nothing.”

You look over towards Bucky standing by the grill with a plate of hamburger buns, waiting for the patty. Your heart flutters when he looks up towards you and smiles widely. His blue eyes sparkle at you, like he can’t help but seduce you over and over. How does he hold this power over you?

You feel the familiar bubbles in your stomach and Nat laughs when her hand is thoroughly kicked.

“Ooh, yay. Hi baby girl.” She looks at you. “Nat, right? Please tell me you’re naming her Natalia.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know if it is a girl, Nat.”

“Bah.” She shrugs at you. “It’s a girl. Aren’t you baby Natalia? Natasha? Which one do you want, baby girl?”

You let Nat spout her affections, appreciating the love the team seems to have for your coming bundle of joy.

The night moves along, eventually Tony claps his hands and about thirty small orbs with tiny little thrusters on the base of shining metal panels surrounding the orbs float overhead and light up the area.

Tony eventually escaped to one of the picnic tables. Bruce, Clint, and Thor sit with him talking animatedly about something. They keep waving their hands around as if describing the size of something. Wanda, Vision, Rhodey, and Steve sit at another table with a group of four cadets, both male and female.

Happy has taken to sitting in a lounge chair—snoozing near the grill, sunglasses on his face to complete the very dad-like outfit of khaki shorts and a blue, red, and yellow tropical shirt; palm trees and fronds.

Sam and Bucky are standing further out than anyone else with a trio of cadets. Two female, one male. The two females are the ones you’re watching. You can’t help it.

Can anyone really blame you? You rub your tummy, your brow furrowed. Bucky’s back is to you, Sam is opposite him with one hand in his pockets, the other holding a beer. He looks serious, despite his relaxed stance, as if he’s explaining something. He’s the only one talking. One girl, with long blonde hair wearing jeans and a white peasant top stands to Bucky’s right. The other girl, dark brown hair wearing a jean skirt and a red cotton crop top exposing stunningly cut abs, is standing to Sam’s right. Between them is the guy, you don’t know what he’s wearing. You don’t care.

Bucky’s white long sleeve pulls against the taut muscles of his shoulders. He’s so deliciously huge. He’s yours! The possessive instinct makes you rub your stomach faster. Harder. Worried. His butt looks good in those jeans too. Ugh, why does he have to be so good looking?

You like it. You wanna stare at him all day, every day. But you also wish he was less alluring. Maybe you’ll ask him to get fat? Can Super Soldiers get fat? Will his metabolism not let him?

The blonde beside him laughs as Sam smiles. The other girl who you can’t see clearly because Bucky’s blocking her also moves with laughter, as does the guy. A joke? Had Sam been telling a joke?

As the blonde laughs, she reaches over and place her hand on the small of Bucky’s back and you freeze. When she removes it, only then do you breathe and move again, rubbing just as fast against your tummy. Just as hard.

She begins talking quickly, looking up at Bucky as he looks down at her. He looks confused and then she stops as if waiting for an answer. She asks Sam and he shakes his head. She asks the other girl. Nope, she shakes her head too. Then she asks Bucky, reaching over to place her hand on his large bicep but it’s not just a placement. She gives it a squeeze and drags her hand down slowly until she can take hold of his elbow.

Bucky shakes his head and you can read his mouth as he says, I don’t know. What?

The girl looks away and says something then let’s go of Bucky as everyone laughs.

Beside you, Casey reaches out to place her hand over your stomach. She, Pepper, and Nat are sitting around you. The four of you forming a cross around a small portable fire pit that Tony had purchased specifically for tonight.

As your attention is drawn away from Bucky. You see that all three women are watching you with furrowed brows. You settle on Casey.

“He wouldn’t do anything, Y/N.” Casey reminds you and you know that she’s right.

Nat and Pepper nod in agreement.

“I already told him I’d cut his balls off if he did anything stupid like that again.” Nat assures you.

Pepper nods again. “We all did. You’re very good for him. Tony made sure he understood what he almost lost.”

“Tony?” You’re surprised because out of all the members of the team, you’d never thought Tony would go to bat for Bucky. And giving him a get-it-together talk is definitely going to bat for them.

“Yeah. We’re all of the same mind.” Nat promises.

“And Sam won’t let him make a mistake like that again.” Casey assures you, her blonde hair gathered up into a small ponytail.

You look back towards your husband, sighing deeply as you caress the base of your stomach. The blonde beside Bucky laughs as the guy finishes his own story or joke or whatever the fuck he’s saying, then she reaches out and grabs the Bucky’s shirt just above the curve of his butt. Bucky shifts to his left as if he’s trying to get beyond her reach while you grip your dress in tight fists as your heart nearly leaps into your throat to choke you.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you need to say something, Y/N.”

You look at Pepper and she’s leaning towards you, hands on between her jean covered knees.

“Tony—before we got together had a different girl every week. It took a while for some of them to take the hint, but you have to be firm with those that can’t.”

You know what she’s saying. She’s telling you that if you want to keep your man free of other women touching him, then you need to say something.

It feels strange to feel like this, jealous and possessive because you were never like this before. Yes, you cared, but you were never worried like this. It feels like a gnawing in your chest and you hate that it’s there.

You get up slowly, Casey helps you get to your feet, then you waddle up behind the blonde.

“So, he tries to get me to buy the watch even after I told him that I was there to take him in for fraud. I mean, this guy won’t quit.” Sam is saying. He spots you but his eyes shine, and he says nothing as you approach.

You steel your nerves, harden your heart for a bit, and reach out. Placing your hand on the upper butt of a girl that you don’t know feels weird. But this is the best way that you can think to make your point.

She squeals and jumps, not recognizing the pressure and turns to look at you with shock on her face. Everyone looks at you.

Bucky’s eyes, bright from Sam’s story, dim and his smile disappears immediately as he takes in the expression on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You say, your voice hard and sharp. “Did that feel weird?”

She smiles, uncertain. “Yes?”

“Did it feel kinda like it’s not a good place to be touched by some stranger?”

Her eyes shift with realization. She looks at Bucky and then looks back at you.

“Y/N…” Bucky begins but you cut him off.

“You know that he’s married, right?” You ask her, feeling like shit yourself for saying these things but also feeling all the way into your bones that if you don’t say it that you might very well choke on the words.

No one is talking. No one. Not Thor, Clint, Bruce, or Tony sitting at the nearest picnic table. Neither Steve, Rhodey, Vision, or Wanda. In fact, Tony is on his feet. Steve too.

The girl seems to notice this too because she looks around at Bucky, Sam, her two friends, and the rest of the group before she meets your eyes again. “Y-yes.”

“Yes? And you still thought it was okay to grab at his arms and ass?” Your voice is still strong but hurt and full of disbelief.

“I didn’t-” She begins then looks at your rounded belly, and guilt floods her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You look at Bucky and he’s staring at you with such intensity that you forget your anger and reach over to take his arm.

“You wanna go home?” Bucky asks.

“No. Why should I cut my night short. I am tired though. I need to sit.” He leads you back towards your seat.

Behind you, you can hear Sam speak, his voice low and commanding. “I think you’ve outstayed your welcome.”

Casey grabs and drags her hand across your arm as she passes you to get to Sam. Pepper and Nat both get up to join the other tables leaving you and Bucky alone by the fire pit. Once you’re seated, Bucky squats down in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” He says.

“Bucky, if you don’t say anything, they’re just going to keep doing it. Why do I have to be the one to say something?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I knew she was touching me too much. I should have said something.”

You saw him shifting away from her. He probably just didn’t want to be rude but that’s how they get their stupid feet in the door. You know this is your insecurity now. One that you never had before.

This sucks.

“I think we need to go back to Dr. Garza. This isn’t okay, Bucky.” You sigh, hating yourself for feeling like this.

He reaches up, cupping the sides of your face. “Okay. I’ll call her and make an appointment. Okay?”

You nod.

“I love you, kitten. I’m sorry. I’m…I’ll be more aware from now on.” He promises and you take him at his word because you know he does love you and you’d seen how uncomfortable he was with her touching him.

“I love you, too, Bucky. So much. I never want to lose you.” You admit, reaching up to place your hands over his.

You see pain flicker in Bucky’s blue eyes, and he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, one cool, one hot. “You won’t, Y/N. Never.”

He pulls you down for a kiss and holds it. When he finally breaks it, you’re both breathless and emotional.

“Should we go home?” He wonders, you nod. “Okay, let’s go home.”

Goodbyes are quick and Steve finally produces the car seat that Bucky had promised was coming. You try your best to pretend to be surprised but it falls flat and Steve frowns at Bucky before reaching over to shove him, hard.

“Thanks a lot, jerk.”

“I’m sorry!” Bucky laughs. “I couldn’t help it. She seduced it out of me.”

“Hey!” You protest. Who was seducing who here?! He’s the one that dragged you into that closet. You’re already feeling better.

At home, once you and Bucky can just be alone together—the night and the blonde begin to fade away. Bucky helps you shower, lovingly scrubbing all the places you can’t reach. He kisses your tummy, cherishing the life within.

“Hurry up, ducky. I can’t wait to meet you.” He whispers against your belly as warm water washes over you both.

You chuckle.

Bucky waits until you’re sitting up in bed, propped up against the headboard, before he grabs a large dark brown glass canister and crawls over to you expectantly.

You know what he wants and if you’re honest, it’s the best part of your day. You lift up your pajama top to show him your tummy. He screws the bottle open and takes a scoop of cream from inside then begins to slowly massage it against your swollen and scarred belly.

“Ooh, cold.” You gasp.

Bucky smiles. “I can’t wait to meet our ducky.”

“I know.” You laugh again. “Two more weeks baby. Then our ducky will be with us and we can-Ow.”

You gasp, reaching down to hold your tummy as your body is rocked with pain. It’s not pain like you’ve really ever felt before. Pressure. So much pressure. All of it on your pelvis and then your lower back.

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay.” You sigh, releasing a slow breath.

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.” You make to shift up some more so that Bucky can get more comfortable, but you stop, fisting the sheets as a wave of throbbing pain moves from the top of your pelvis all the way to the bottom, then your back bursts into a radiating ache. “Ow!”

“Y/N?!” Bucky pushes himself up onto his knees and leans to place the bottle of cream on his bedside table.

“Bucky…” You blink, suddenly scared. “I think the baby’s coming.”

If your water had broken in the shower, there would be no way of knowing. Had you peed yourself in there? You can’t remember. This baby has you going so much that you’ve grown a little numb to the sensation.

Bucky’s already up, scooping up your packed bag, racing to get your shoes, and then helping you to the door.

He holds your hand, letting you squeeze it as hard as you can when you have to stop as the pain shocks you again. Thank God, the elevator is fixed. As the doors close, Bucky wraps his right arm around your waist.

“I’ve got you, Y/N.” Bucky promises. “I’ve got you.”

And then, as he gets you in the car and shuts the door, you can hear his panic slip through as he hurries around to the driver’s side door. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be a dad.”

Small squeaks, small murmurs, little whines, and tiny grunts. These sounds are like the songs of angels. Your angel. Your precious Natalia Rebecca Barnes. Lia for short because Bucky says he’s not saying all that.

Her tiny body, the literal size of a baby-doll, lays between you and Bucky. You’re on your right, resting comfortably against your pillows. Exhausted. Breast feeding is no joke and getting up at all hours to feed your ducky is draining.

Luckily, with Elias caught and you out of official work, both of you get the rare luxury of staying home with her. He helps to let you sleep but right now you and your baby girl are sleeping a lot together.

Right now, the exception as she drifts off after a feeding. Bucky’s right index finger and thumb measure the length of her teeny foot. She’s so beautiful, her dark patch of hair so stark compared to the blue of her eyes, hidden at the moment as she sleeps.

“She’s so small.” Bucky smiles, so happy you can almost feel the utter sunshine radiating off of him.

You’re busy staring at her, the knuckle of your left hand gently stroking her puffy left cheek.

“She’s perfect.” You sigh. “Oh, Bucky, I’m so happy.”

And you’re crying, so desperately pleased with yourself and Bucky and your little ducky in this one perfect moment.

Bucky reaches over to cup your cheek and when you look at him, he’s crying too.

“I can’t believe how different everything feels. This is all that I’ve ever wanted, and you gave it to me and I’m so grateful.” You sob, quietly because you don’t want to startle Lia.

“You’re grateful?” He half-laughs. “I never thought I could have this. You’re my miracle, Y/N. You and Lia.”

You laugh too, still sobbing happily. Bucky pushes himself up and leans over your little one and you hurry to meet his lips because that’s what he’s asking for.

You try to see this from the outside. Bucky laying on your daughter’s right, you on her left. Bucky wearing a pair of soft comfy black sleep pants, no shirt, his hair smooth and tucked behind his ear. You in your own powder pink—Bucky’s favorite color on you—pajama shorts set; hair braided to keep it out of Lia’s face. And your teeny one, in her newborn, black onesie with white polka dots, her little arms and legs exposed as the scorch of summer demands exposed skin.

The three of you are perfection. Maybe in not being perfect, you are perfect. Lia had come two weeks early, excited to meet her daddy. He had asked her several times to hurry up and she’d quickly obliged.

Bucky pulls back, staring deep into the ecstatic pools of your eyes, and he says nothing. He doesn’t have to. You feel it. As he lays back down, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek, the adoration pouring off his expression fills you with all the assurance you need to know that Bucky is here with you and Lia. He’s not going anywhere.

You are his love and Lia is his life. Nothing will ever come between you again. You may still struggle. You may still fight, but nothing is stronger than your need to be together. With each other. With Lia.

The front door beeps and you gasp, exaggerating for the benefit of your audience.

“Where are my girls?” Bucky’s deep timber shakes the walls, filling your home with a much missed warmth.

Lia, standing at just three feet wearing a steel gray tulle skirt with a jean ruffled top, gasps too. Her little voice high but confident as she jumps to her feet and with her small feet slapping against the wood of the entryway, she stops just inside the door as it creaks open slowly. As she hops in place, her hair swishes along her back, long and dark.

“Daddy! Hurry! Winnie was making Ana laugh!” Lia exclaims.

Bucky throws the door open.

“What?!” He exclaims but drops his duffel bag on the floor and throws his arms open as his four-year old runs towards him, shrieking excitedly.

Smiling, you get to your feet slowly, balancing one-year old Georgiana on your hip. She’s dressed comfortably with her soft brown curls pinned back with a silver baby bow, and her teal and white polka dot dress fixed around her pampered bottom. Her little potbelly sticks out as you hold her, her tiny hands pressed against your neck and chest as she holds on.

Beside you, Winnie, your two-year-old, in her light blue floral skirt and her white dress shirt solidifies her as the princess of your girls. She loves dressing fancy, even if she’s just going to hang around her house, her dark brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She scampers forward, as Bucky opens his metal arm and scoops her and Lia up with a chuckle.

“Daddy home!” Winnie exclaims. “Wook, mommy!”

You stop at the edge of the carpet, watching as Bucky kisses each girl on their puffed-up cheeks.

“I see that, Winnie. Did you miss your daddy?”

“Yah!” She giggles. “I miss daddy, dis mush!”

She spreads her little arms as wide as she can, and Bucky widens his eyes. “Woah! That much?”

“Yah!” Winnie shouts again.

“Sshhh, Winnie. Mr. Ryan will get angry again.” Lia says responsibly, pressing her small index finger to her lips as she shushes her finger.

“Oops.” Winnie whispers then giggles again as she wraps her arms around Bucky’s neck and cuddles against him.

Lia shakes her head, rolling her eyes, and it hurts to see how big your baby girl has gotten! Ouch!

Not much however, because she dives into Bucky’s neck, following Winnie’s lead as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“Oh, I missed my girls so much.” Bucky says, moving towards the couch.

As he passes you, he leans in and kisses Ana’s chubby cheek. She giggles and coos and reaches for his cheeks but when he pulls away, she whimpers, and you rub her back because you know how she feels. You want him too. Bucky falls into the sofa, sighing as the girls get more comfortable.

“Pwesents, daddy? Pwesents?” Winnie asks, curious, not demanding.

“Oh, man. The presents! I forgot the presents.”

Winnie’s little eyes dim, and Lia shakes her head. “It’s okay, daddy. We don’t need presents. Right Winnie?”

Winnie looks at her older sister and nods furiously. “Yah! We dun need pwesents…but it wooda bean nice.” She shrugs.

Bucky chuckles, throwing his head back with genuine amusement at his second-born. “I’m just kidding, princess, go look in daddy’s bag.”

You watch a both Winnie and Lia scamper off towards his abandoned duffel bag screaming and giggling the whole way. They dive onto their knees and begin to pull apart his clothes. Once Lia had been old enough to get into things, he’d stopped carrying weapons in there.

You turn back to look at Bucky and jump with slight surprise as you find yourself looking into his shining blue eyes. He’s biting his bottom lip, scrunched down with his shoulders hunched so that he’s at exactly your level. His hands take hold of the sides of your face and he dips down low, kissing you softly, then greedily, his tongue dipping between your lips to pry your mouth open for him.

“Mmmmm.” He moans.

“Mmm.” You moan too, higher and more quickly as your eyes shut and your eyebrows shoot up into your forehead. God, this man can kiss. Even after five years.

“Eeeewwww, Daddy!” Winnie exclaims.

“Shush, Winnie.” Lia chastises. Both of them hold fluffy bunnies. One pink, one blue. Winnie holds the pink. Lia the blue. “Come on, Winnie let’s go play.”

You and Bucky are oblivious to them at the moment, since they’re safe and perfect, Bucky gives you his full attention as he pulls back to stare at your face. “Let me look at you.”

He still says that, after every mission. Your heart beats wildly in your chest but the one year old in your arms screams and Bucky turns to her. He tickles her tummy and kisses her cheeks. She laughs her adorable baby laugh. It makes you chuckle and Bucky too.

You reach up and fix her hair as Bucky suddenly drops to his knees and places his hands on your six-month baby bump.

“How’s our little soldier?”

“Bucky,” you laugh. “We don’t know if it’s a boy yet.”

“It has to be a boy. I need to start evening out the numbers.”

“Yeah, well, if you get another girl, what are you going to do?” You wonder, adjusting Ana. Bucky sees you’re struggling and kisses your stomach before rushing back to his feet. He offers his toddler his hands and she lunges for him.

“What do you mean? I’ll name her Stephanie, after Steve.” He bounces Ana and pretends to eat up her tummy. She laughs again. “Won’t we, baby-doll? We’ll name her Stephanie and tell Uncle Steve that he’s gonna be Godfather again.”

“Bucky?” You probe carefully, wondering if you should even bring this up. You lick your lips and place your hands on your lower back, resting your weight back on them. “Something happened while you were out on mission.”

With worried blue eyes, he turns to you, swaying with Ana as she plays with his hair and tugs his ear.

“I bumped into Henry.”

You see the ice in his eyes as you say the name and sigh. “I took the girls to the park and-Nothing happened.”

“Of course, it didn’t. I’m not stupid.” Bucky says and though he sounds like he trusts you, there’s a shiver of uncertainty in his eyes.

“I just…I wanted you to know. I wanted to tell you myself.”

“Why?” He asks, his voice sharp and it hurts to hear. Why did you bring it up? He’s angry now.

“Because? I don’t know. I want to be open about it. He still lives here but we never see him when we’re together and all of a sudden he shows up when I’m alone with the girls? I only ever seem to bump into him when you’re out.” You’re not sure what to make of it. It has to be a coincidence. Every few months or so he pops up out of nowhere and makes conversation. Asks how you are and asks about the girls but never about Bucky.

“How often?” He asks, curt and brooding.

“Once every few months? It started after that one time you and I bumped into him when Lia was one, remember?” You watch his face, wondering if he could ever forget it. Probably not.

You’re not unaware of Henry’s gaze when he bumps into you. He always glances at your left hand first, like he had that first time, and you’re grateful for the shine of your wedding band. So unnecessary in your opinion back when Bucky gave it to you because you were violently committed to him—you still are—but with him gone, you suddenly see the perk of having it.

Bucky stops swaying as Ana’s little eyes shut. He stares at you, watching as you begin to fidget. You wring your hands and play with that wedding band. He frowns, hating to see you worry.

“Are you angry?” You ask and Bucky breathes in deep and then releases it slowly.

“No. Of course, not, kitten. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You relax. “Okay.”

“When did you see him last?” Bucky asks.

“Day before yesterday? He sat with me in the park for about an hour and then left.”

Bucky nods and kisses Ana’s forehead carefully rested on his shoulder. You can see how much he cherishes her, half you and half him. His little doll, perfect and peaceful.

Bucky’s not sure what he’s doing. He’s driven forward by anger. Not hatred. Jealousy maybe? He knows he has no one to blame but himself for what happened five years ago. Both of you have moved on very well from that but Henry’s popping up every few months and only when you’re alone?

What the hell is he playing at?

Bucky knows very well what he’s doing. Checking to see if things are still good, probably.

He moves into the elevator of the familiar office building. Luckily, it’s after hours, and your old floor is nearly empty as he stomps towards the large office at the back. He stops, steadies his breathing because he’s fuming, and tries not to bang on the door.

He fails.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

There’s a startled shift in the room beyond and the door is suddenly yanked open. Bucky tries to melt the ice in his eyes, but he can’t. His heart is racing, his breathing short, his shoulders heaving, and it takes every ounce of will power to channel his rage into his hands.

He grips the doorframe and holds it tight, squeezing the wood. It cracks. Henry’s dark eyes dart towards the sound and only when Bucky finally speaks does Henry look at him.

“I know you slept with my wife.”

“I-” Henry begins, but Bucky’s eyes narrow and it stops his words in their tracks.

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to play but I am never going to leave her. We’ve got three daughters, and a fourth on the way. Y/N and those girls are my life and if you come near them again, I’ll make it so that no one will ever find what’s left of your body when I’m finished with it. Stop showing up. Got it?”

Henry nods his head, his hands shaking, his eyes wide.

“Say it.” Bucky growls, feeling more and more possessive of his perfect family the more he pictures you with the girls sitting on the floor watching Ana play with her toys.

His girls. His wife. His perfect happiness. He’ll kill anyone who threatens to take it away.

“I-I’ll stay away.” Henry stutters, fear making his voice shake.

“If she tells me you showed up again—I promise you, I will come for you. I retired the Winter Soldier but if I need to, I will let him come out and play.” Mean it? Maybe. Being the Winter Soldier is one of the darkest parts of Bucky’s past but if he needed to use it to protect you and the girls, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“O-o-okay.” Henry nods, taking another step back.

“Okay.” Bucky says, giving the man a small smile before he turns and stalks back out to head back home, he’s got some berries to refrigerate.

You’re almost asleep. Your body exhausted from watching the girls all day and carrying your fourth. Absentmindedly, as you drift off, you stroke your belly.

Heat engulfs you from behind and you smile wider. “Mmmm.” You groan, so at peace to know Bucky’s home.

His hands wind their way around you and carefully he pulls your shirt up so that he can stroke your bare belly. You place your hand over his and wind your fingers through his. He kisses the space behind your ear and heavily sighs.

“Did you find the strawberries? Winnie won’t eat her pancakes without them.” You tell him, eyes still shut tight as he splays his fingers on your distended stomach and rubs it again.

“I found them.” He whispers.

“You were gone for a while.” You observe, the closest grocery store is only a few blocks away. Shouldn’t have taken so long.

“I-” His hesitation more than anything makes you open your eyes. You and Bucky have no secrets. Not since that night. “I went to see Henry.”

You shift around, twisting so that you can lay on your back and Bucky lifts his hand just enough to give you the room to do so. When you’re still again, he wraps you up tighter and pulls you closer. “You what?”

“I told him to stay away.” Bucky looks a little sad about it and you wonder if he’s feeling the way you once felt so long ago telling some random girl to back off. “Was I wrong?”

You reach over with your left hand and tuck his long hair behind his right ear. You shake your head. “No. I’m grateful.”

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to tell Henry to go away. Not because you wanted to see him but because you didn’t want to justify the need to tell him to keep his distance. He should mean nothing. He does mean nothing…but not to Bucky. You wish that wasn’t there. That forever worry about the man whose arms you ran to when Bucky fucked up.

“Really?” He asks, raising his eyebrows and his face relaxing a bit.

“Yes.” You pull him down by his ear, kissing his lips briefly. “I hated seeing him.”

He rests against the mattress, letting all the stress in his body fall away as he cuddles closer to you, inhaling deeply as he presses the tip of his nose to the space behind your ear again.

“I love you, Y/N. I know I say it all the time. I’m-I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t.” He pulls back to watch as you smile, loving him more after all this time than you did before.

“I never do.” You promise him. “I love you, too, Bucky. You’re my everything.”

“And you’re my life.” He whispers, “My kitten. Forever.”

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medeafive · 4 years

Text

Blood and Stone -06

Masterpost

"Are you hurt?" he asks.

She blushes. "No, no. Cut healed cleanly. It's just- that time of the month. I may be sterilized but I still get my period."

They are walking alongside the Vltava in Holešovice. Not a pretty neighborhood if you don't want to get into the parks leading to the Castle. He sniffs. "Wow. I really smell that."

She snorts. "Come on. That's creepy."

"Sorry," he replies. "Can't change it, though. So we should probably get somewhere indoors."

"Don't wanna take on a hunting party?" she asks. "That would be fun. Haven't been in a fight in a while."

"They're allies," he remarks. "I shouldn't bother them more than I have to."

"You're boring," she accuses. "Let's cross over. I know a place."

She always liked Karlín, the old townhouses, streets lined with trees, art nouveau architecture. It would be even prettier without vampires, if the cafés and bars could open longer, people would sit outside more, all that. If everyone didn't look scared.

The apartment is on the highest floor, including a balcony and all. Not very useful now. The couple who lived here moved out quite orderly, leaving the big pieces of furniture behind. It seems a little like they're just on a very long holiday.

"You know, I've been wondering," she remarks, casually placing her guns and knives on the table. "Does Schmidt actually have red skin?"

"Oh yeah." He looks around, the empty nails where photos must have hung, maybe even art. "He does."

"Creepy," she finds. "What about Zola?"

"No." He walks to the window. "It was just the very first version, I think. I don't know."

"Why did they even send you to recruit me?" she asks. "No offense, but you're not exactly convincing."

He snorts. "I'm reliable. I do as I'm told. The- what did you call it- the mind control works better on some than on others. Don't ask me why."

"So they're worried this might go off the rails?" she asks. "Why?"

"Someone else might have already drunk you," he replies. "Everything that's not just murdering people is a delicate mission. Some have less control over their urges."

She snorts. "Oh, great. You were the most boring, controlled, sophisticated vampire they could find."

"I was told not to hurt you," he says, turning around. "And I don't want to. I like you, actually."

"You don't want to drink my blood?" she asks, walking over. "Honestly. Come on, you smell it."

"Wouldn't mind a little sip, to be perfectly honest," he admits. "But I really don't want to hurt you. I promised."

"That wouldn't turn me," she clarifies. "Really? You could stop after just a little?"

He grins, fangs shining golden. "Is that an offer?"

"Fuck off," she returns. "No."

He shrugs, unimpressed. "That's too risky for you suddenly? But injecting vampire blood was totally okay?"

"I stopped," she points out. "And I didn't grow fangs or claws, so what. Though I… I felt like I could smell better. Maybe I was getting some vampire senses."

"Possible," he admits. "After all, nobody knows all of the effects."

"It didn't heal the scars, though," she tells him. "Wounds were gone quickly but the scars stayed."

"The virus doesn't care about scars," he explains. "No impact on function. So no, those never go away."

"You have a lot?" she asks.

He snorts. "Come on. Don't make me take off my shirt."

She steps back and reaches for the biteguard around her neck. "I can go first."

He looks intrigued. "Sure you wanna take off the armor?"

"I won't smell more of blood," she points out, unclasping the biteguard and reaching for the zipper that was underneath. "Deal?"

"Okay," he breathes. "Deal."

She pulls the zipper unceremoniously down to the belt with the red hourglass, pulling the arms from the plated sleeves. She's pale, too. Not like she spends her days lying on the beach. She shows him her forearms, with all the scars. "We didn't have the carbon fibre and the kevlar at the beginning. Got scratched a lot."

"You went out there to fight vampires without proper protection?" he asks, staring at the pale skin and the even paler scars. "You could've died ."

"Yeah, no shit," she returns. "Wasn't fun, bleeding and then having to deal with vampires in a blood frenzy. Yeah, I've really been doing this for a long time. Uh, that one's from when they cut open my belly to take out the uterus. That one, I actually got shot. Accident."

He unties the black cloak. "You're insane."

"Fuck off," she repeats, uncomfortable feeling broiling in her belly. "Not my fault."

"You could've stopped ," he suggests, opening straps on his leather jacket. "Not like you owed anyone anything."

"While the world was going to shit?" she questions. "Hell no."

He pulls the jacket open. She's not prepared for how bad his left arm really looks, the metal forced in, red red lines on white skin. And the red bite. It looks worse than just a scar, somehow alive. He pulls the black shirt over his head, too.

His entire chest is covered in scars, both faint and strong. She takes a deep breath. "What happened to you?"

He doesn't put the shirt down, sort of self-consciously hiding behind it. "We train. Fight. It's brutal."

"I can see that," she mutters, fingers darting forward carefully. "Can I- mind if I-"

"Please," he blurts out, fisting the shirt. "It's- he says he only wants the strong ones to survive. The others are useless."

"Kill or be killed," she mutters, finger tracing over the white cold hard line that gives in under her touch. "I'm sorry. That- he really is a monster."

He snorts softly, pushing the shirt off his wrists. "Thanks. Uh- that kinda tickles."

"Seriously?" she questions, pressing her entire palm to his scarred abs. "You're ticklish ?"

"What about it," he replies. "I'm not dead, for the umpteenth time."

"You're cold like it, though," she remarks, pressing her other palm to his cold hard chest. "How does that feel, other than warm?"

"Honestly," he says. "Pretty nice."

His chest has warmed up to her by now. She takes the hand away, then touches again. Still warm. The scars look really fucking bad, though. "So you're one of the strong ones."

"For now," he whispers. "Yeah."

"And the…" She kicks the black cloak on the floor. "That one. That doesn't help?"

"It's just a cloak," he says. "He's trying to develop better vampires, stronger, faster. If I can't keep up, if I'm no longer useful… I guess that would be it."

"He's using you," she whispers, leaning in. "You're just a disposable tool to him."

He doesn't reply before her lips touch his, cold for just a second, she feels the fangs pressing through but it doesn't really bother her, weirdly enough, he kisses her back and she grips his chest, fingers digging in. He's warm now, alive. She opens her mouth, swiping her tongue over his beautiful lips, over the fang, cold and smooth gold, carefully over the tip, his hands come to her hips, very careful. His tongue comes out and tangles with hers. Her fingers dig in even harder, soft skin, but then she pulls back to catch a breath. His eyes flutter open. "What are you doing?" he rasps out.

"Shut up," she whispers, leaning back in and kissing him again. Now he's really warm and soft, she might be mistaken but he smells differently, no more old book, his fingers dig into her hips, release and dig in again, more carefully. She strokes the scars on his chest, finds the warmth has spread out, even where she didn't touch him before. She touches his cheek, warm-

Something buzzes , loud, they both startle, jumping apart, it buzzes again, at her belt, her phone, fucking phone-

"Well," she remarks. "This is awkward."

He clears his throat, lips swollen. "Maybe- maybe you should pick up."

She fumbles around, the top of the suit is hanging over the belt. Buzzes. She gets it out finally, flips it open. "Yes? What the fuck is it?"

"Are you okay?" Bruce's voice asks. "Your pulse literally disappeared."

"My-" The fucking tracker. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just- just rolled the sleeve up, I guess."

"You what?" Tony asks loudly. "Why? What about the one in the collar?"

She groans quietly, closing her eyes, pinching her nose. "I'm fine. Really."

"What are you doing ," Tony inquires. "Your vitals are doing some weird shit. Are you running?"

The- still no name- he has picked up his shirt and put it on again, though not the jacket. "Get out of my fucking business," she demands. "Okay? Everything's alright. I'll hang up now."

"Okay," Bruce says. "Just get home safely. Stay safe."

She hangs up, rolling her eyes. "Oh man."

"They're monitoring you?" he asks.

"They thought tracking me would make me safer or something," she remarks, fumbling with the sleeves. "Guess I should put that back on."

"Yeah, probably," he agrees. "Uh, not to be awkward, but what was that all about?"

"No, no, no," she interrupts, fiddling into the rigid sleeve. "Don't make me- My pulse will go up again and then I'll get another fucking call."

He grins, picking up the jacket. "Okay. Whatever."

"What do I call you, though?" she asks, zipping the suit up. "Got a name for me?"

He shrugs. "Don't really care. Whatever you want."

"Someone suggested Steve," she offers.

He snorts. "That sounds wrong."

"Well, what doesn't?" she asks.

He studies her, jacket in hand. "James," he offers finally.

"James, then," she decides, fixing her ponytail up again. Why is she so dishevelled? "I guess you already know everything about me, right?"

"Yeah, sure," he replies sarcastically, peeling himself back into the leather jacket. "That you're a really horrible person and all."

"Are you fucking with me?" She snorts, gathering up her guns. "Come on. I've done some shit."

"Not disputing that," he states. "You're leaving?"

"Guess I should," she replies. "Before they get all worked up again."

"Sounds annoying," he remarks. "Yeah, I guess- I don't know what to say. Guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah," she agrees, sheathing her knives as well. "If you keep following me around, sure."

"I still find it creepy," Clint remarks. "I mean, I trust you and I don't think you're dumb or gullible or anything, but it's just… weird."

They're sitting on a roof again, looking out over the city and the river. "I get that," she replies. "I don't like that he helped start a global vampire outbreak either."

Clint snorts. "Putting it mildly. And then you're just gone, I really thought, when I heard…"

"Not my fault if the suit malfunctions," she returns. "I was safe, really."

"Because of the extension?" Clint asks.

"More than that," she replies. "It's… Fury wants to get him on our side. Don't say Stockholm but… I really think I'm getting somewhere."

He opens his mouth but closes it again carefully. "Are you… sure?"

"He literally said mind control," she tells him. "He told me about Schmidt and the horrible structure, the torture and the experiments. Not in detail but… It really scarred him. I can work with that."

"I mean," Clint acknowledges. "I understand if he wants to get away from the evil vampire overlord. I wouldn't trust him, though."

She snorts. "Why do you trust me, then? Because I kill vampires? He kills vampires too. The ones he's told to kill, but maybe we could get him to kill others, too. Like the ones in the Castle."

Clint grins. "You're insane. That's why I trust you."

"Just imagine," she suggests. "Wiping out the Castle. Battling back the black cloaks and Schmidt's forces. Taking out Schmidt."

"Seems a little too ambitious," Clint remarks. "But alright, your call. It's still creepy to think he might be around right now."

"I don't know how close he is," she says. "Should test that sometime. I mean, I don't like it either but it's helpful."

"Are you sure you don't like it?" Clint asks slowly.

"Yes," she replies perplexed. "Of course. Why?"

"Doesn't always seem like it," he says carefully. "With all your running around alone at night. You kinda like him, don't you."

"Liking him makes it easier," she whispers. "But I don't like everything he does . I don't have to, either."

"Your business," Clint states. "You should just be honest to yourself about what you're doing and why."

"Fair," she acknowledges. "Something else, what do you think about the new girl? I didn't get to go on patrol with her yet, so I don't really know."

"She's good," he admits. "She has a different approach, with a lot of research and all, while you seem to do everything on instinct. Maybe you'd complement each other. Fury just doesn't want to send you out together yet because she doesn't know the city and you're kinda distracted sometimes."

"I've really been doing this forever," she repeats. "There was no research back then. Just a bunch of vets with Kalashnikovs."

"Didn't you have a sword ?" Clint asks.

"Yeah," she confirms. "Helped with the beheading part. Knife just isn't heavy enough. That was cool, actually, maybe I should get one again."

"You're really insane," Clint repeats. "God help us all."

"So," Sharon asks. "What's he like?"

Natasha almost cuts into her finger. Damn carrots. "I don't know. Normal."

"Normal?" Sharon repeats. "In what way?"

This is why she doesn't have friends. She can't cook either. Sam can cook and everyone likes him. "I don't know. I can talk to him normally, I guess. Not like I have to be careful or anything."

"You have weird standards," Sam remarks. "Uh, could you cut them a little smaller?"

"Is he funny?" Sharon inquires.

Weird question. "Annoying, mostly. Kinda smug? I don't know. He's okay."

"Could you wash the coleslaw, Sharon?" Sam asks. "Thanks."

The kitchen is a little small for three people but alright. "Yeah, sure," Sharon agrees. "Sorry. I'm just really curious. Nobody ever had longer encounters with a black cloak and lived to tell the tale."

"He's-" She hesitates but says it anyway. "He's more human than the fresh vampires. More in control. He doesn't just drop into a blood frenzy at the drop of a pin."

"I would certainly hope so," Sam remarks. "Drop of a hat, by the way."

The water is turned on. "Does he like you?" Sharon asks with curiosity.

Natasha snorts. "Guess so. Which is good, I guess."

"If it keeps him from murdering you and us all," Sam states. "Then yeah, definitely."

"I feel like I'm discussing with a teenager," Tony says. "No. Come on, you're breaking Brucey's heart."

"I'm not wearing that thing again," she repeats, arms crossed. "You have no right to stalk me. Also, it clearly gives false alarms all the fucking time."

" Once ," Tony emphasizes. "And I still think that was on you somehow. You always pretend you're that mysterious and interesting but really, you're not. So no need to get on such a high horse about your privacy."

"The tracker would be really helpful," Bruce interjects uncomfortably. "In case… you know. We could put it somewhere else, I guess. If it bothers you in the suit."

"Not going down that road," Tony protests. "No way."

"No more vitals?" she asks. "Just the GPS?"

"Yes," Bruce confirms. "If that's what you want."

She drops her arms. "Okay. Put it in the phone. Can you do that, Stark, or do I have to do it myself?"

"I'll get the suit," Bruce announces, leaving the room.

Tony takes her phone but not his eyes off her. "You're up to something. And I don't like it."

"Fuck off," she returns. "You can't even do the vampire cure."

"Yeah, can you?" he challenges. "Didn't think so. But oh, I forget, you're the Black Widow ."

"Do not go there," she hisses. "You don't know shit about that."

"I would never," Tony states provocatively calmly. "Your judgment is clearly impeccable. Undoubtable."

Bruce returns, thankfully, as always completely unaware of the atmosphere in the room. "There's the tracker. I'll take out all the measuring devices now."

"Thanks, boys," she says with a sneering undertone. "I'll grab a beer in the meantime."

"You wanted a fight," he- James states. "I got you a fight."

"Oh, so now we're taking on the hunting party?" she asks. "Where?"

He snorts. "Still no. A nest moved in from South. If we're quick, we'll get them before the Castle does."

"I like that," she admits. "You're gonna jump around like crazy again? I'm in. I saw you on my last patrol, by the way. Don't think I didn't just because I didn't say anything."

"It's quicker," he offers. "If you wanna, you know."

She steps up to him. "Cuddle up to you?"

"I'll literally never get you to do anything, will I," he remarks.

"Hey." She pulls a face. "I stopped taking vampire blood. Not for you, though, I admit."

He rolls his eyes, putting his left hand on her shoulder. "Okay. Hold on. Really hold on, I can't catch you."

She grabs one of the straps of his jacket, wrapping the other arm around his torso. "Okay. Ready."

He jumps and suddenly they're on the roof of the building, just briefly before taking off again, cutting through the cold night air, cloak flaring behind them. She's starting to feel nauseous when another building approaches and they're going down down down, but he barely lands before he drags her up in the air again. It's heady. She turns her head and stares up at the night sky, the moon, the clouds, the few stars.

They land in a more suburban part of the city, rows of houses, big squares, lots of green. Everyone has a garden. Her legs almost give out and she giggles. "Oh. You know, I kinda like that. Flying."

"It's exhausting," he says. "Makes me hungry."

Maybe she could give him a little today. Just a little. "So, how many? Where?"

"Two," he replies. "I don't know. We'll have to track them down. Careful, though, they have UV lights around here."

"I can do that," she says. "Just a second to get used to gravity again."

"Take your time," he states. "Do you have the tracker still? Will they think you're dying again?"

"Got rid of it," she replies. "GPS in my phone, but I can get rid of that if necessary. Oh, I'll put it on silent."

"Okay," he says. "Then we should be good."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Okay, I'm ready. I'll go first."

There's lots of shadows around here, some moving. It's actually less quiet than in the city center, people talking indoors, laughing loudly. Not every window locked with wood. Seems to be a good place for young families. If they stay in at night.

She catches their trail around a park, following it the hill down past a church. Nice place to live. Turn right. Where would vampires hide around here? Turn left. No, that seems wrong. Up the hill again. She almost startles when she notices the black cloak behind her, but she really shouldn't be surprised. She's on edge. Somewhere around-

She takes out the knife, waiting. Here. Somewhere here. She just has to place-

Rustling leaves.

She slips into the abandoned garden, holding her breath. They must smell her. Tries to make out in the dark-

Flashing teeth. She jumps back, barely escaping the woman's claws. Cuts after her with her knife. The vampiress hisses. They clash, knife dropping to the ground.

She's not a young vampire, already in control of her strength, her body. She kicks and claws, bites and hits. Natasha knocks her back, scanning her surroundings. Two. Must be two. The woman grabs her, throwing her against a tree. Natasha twists her hand before she can claw at her, making her howl. Kicks her knee. The woman staggers back, fleeing over the fence.

Knife. She jumps over the fence as well, following, another fence, she can hear her moving- She ducks and the vampire misses her, elbows him, grunt, slashes across his face, arm, bleeding slows them, he catches her arm but she snaps her knee up. The vampiress returns and Natasha shoots at her, missing the heart. The vampire throws her to the ground, kicking, she catches his foot and uses his force to twist him down. She's back up and hits the woman, knife, sinks it into her shoulder. Whips around and kicks the guy in the face. The woman tries to push her away but she gets the garotte around her neck, pulling hard. She struggles to break free, but Natasha's stronger than she looks. When she lets go suddenly, she plunges the silver knife into her heart through until it hits the breastplate of her suit.

The other vampire is gone, fleeing down even more gardens. Natasha runs after him. Fence. Tree. Hedge. Fence. He's too fast. She takes the left, crossing the street, left again, she's faster on pavement, catches sight of him between the houses, little faster, sweeps right-

He's too slow. She knocks him down, takes the gun and shoots him in the head.

She's alone. Wait. Lost. She runs back.

There's a light that went on, movement sensor, he's rolled in on the pavement-

Shit. She skids to a stop, grabbing the black cloak and throwing it over him. His skin is red, blistered, fucking UV light. He groans. "Are you okay? Do you hear me?"

"It burns," he whispers weakly.

"I'll get you out," she promises, pulling him up a little, always making sure she blocks out the light. "Fuck these guys. Let's get you up."

He sits up, barely, another ray of light hits his face and she curses, dragging him up all the way. "Sorry. Just- quick."

It seems forever until they're out of the light. She's not even sure covering him with the black cloak is enough. His face looks really bad. "I'll take care of you," she promises. "Do you- do you have a place? Around here?"

He groans. "Spořilov."

That's not too far. They can walk that, long before the sun goes up. "I'll get you there. Just tell me where exactly. I'll get you to safety."

He really looks bad, though, and she has to steady him. And then he stops replying.

#blood and stone #buckynat #vampire au #natasha romanoff #black widow #bucky barnes #winter soldier #my writing #fanfic

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reesewestonarchive · 5 years

Text

chapter eight / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

“…where would you go?”

Rem’s voice is a stark difference from the mixtape playing through frankensteined speakers from Rem’s Walkman. Nakoa opens his eyes, peers at Rem’s face—calm, pleased. “Hm?”

Rem dozes on his side of the bed, a hand out between them in an aborted attempt at touching Nakoa’s stomach. His words are slurred, though, and there’s a tired, distant look in his eye when he lifts his gaze to Nakoa.

Not a second later, his eyes are closed again. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

Loaded question. Nakoa thinks there are plenty of places he’d like to see, plenty of places he could live, but would any of it matter if Rem weren’t with him? “Dunno. Hawaii. Or… European countryside, maybe.” Or Russia, if it weren’t so fucking cold. That’s the thing about the midwest that Nakoa doesn’t miss—the fucking winters. “Some place warm, probably.”

“Bahamas,” Rem says. “You’re miserable when you’re cold.”

“I have bad circulation,” Nakoa says, staring at the ceiling. “Can’t help it.”

Rem lifts his hand, pinches the skin at Nakoa’s hips gently, and says, “‘Cause you’re so fucking skinny. I bruise you when we fuck.”

“You’re one to talk.” Nakoa draws his fingers across thumb-shaped bruises along his own hips. A gentle stir of desire blooms in his stomach—maybe he can give Rem a matching set later. “What about you?”

“What about me?” He burrows closer, presses his head against Nakoa’s neck. He sighs.

“Where would you go, if you could go anywhere?”

“What’s wrong with right here?” Rem drops an arm around Nakoa’s waist. “Mm. Maybe…” He sighs; his breath tickles Nakoa’s chest. He mumbles a response, but Nakoa doesn’t hear it, doesn’t ask for him to repeat it.

Instead, he hums along to Rem’s mixtape. Rem didn’t say it, and Nakoa’s not sure if it’s on purpose, but Nakoa’s since sussed out that the songs are love songs.

For a guy that can’t verbalize the word, Rem’s really fucking good at saying it.

There are plenty of unanswered questions—if anyone’s chasing them, if it’s Michael or Rem’s bad decisions. If it’s… something else. Some asshole on their tail for being as open. Nakoa knows the attitude, knows whatever this is between them makes other people angry, disgusted.

He also doesn’t give a shit. Anyone’d be hard pressed to find someone Rem wouldn’t fight.

In the room, with Rem wrapped around him, basking in the glow of sex, Nakoa forgets about all that. Forgets that there’s a world outside the motel, a world outside of Rem and himself and the bed they’re lying on, in the dark with The Cure playing softly in the background.

Nakoa tests the words on his lips again; soft, against Rem’s hair. I love you. He mouths along with the lyrics for a verse, then hums. Rem curls closer, a pleased noise escaping his throat.

A whisper when Nakoa says, “I love you,” his voice barely louder than the music. Rem says nothing, his breathing even in sleep.

Nakoa lets him rest.

In the cold, misty morning, they pack up from the hotel overlooking the ocean, and Rem uses the last of his own money on a pack of cigarettes. Nakoa steals one from Rem’s lips, ignores his squawk of disagreement, and says, “Where to?”

Rem sighs, stares down at the map. “Fuck if I know.”

Nakoa remembers his mother—tries not to; the thought of her still at home leaves his chest tight—and how she would always say that the journey means as much as the destination. They don’t have the money to go much farther, and soon, the midwest is going to be covered in snow. Soon enough, anyway.

Nakoa thinks of the Grand Canyon, of Yellowstone, of Niagara Falls. Of ghost towns and abandoned houses, amusement parks and mountains and the Atlantic Coast. He thinks he’d follow Rem to hell—if he asked.

“Might as well hit all the stops,” Rem says. “Right?”

Nakoa watches his brow crease in thought. He doesn’t want to, but he says, “Pretty soon we won’t have money for food. Eating out’s fucking expensive.”

A glint sparkles in Rem’s eyes as he pulls the cigarette from his lips, smoke exhaling with each word, “That’s not true. I eat you out all the time.”

“Mm. Think you’re pretty fucking clever, don’t you?”

Rem shrugs, tugs Nakoa against him by his belt loops. “Sometimes. Hey—about the money thing.” He raises an eyebrow, grin wide across his lips, and says, “We could rob a bank.”

Yeah, right. Nakoa has a difficult time imagining that. “Or scare small children.” He shoves his knuckles against Rem’s ribs. “Give me your lunch money, punk.”

Thoughtfully, Rem asks, “Ever thought about porn?”

Nakoa doesn’t say the only person he wants to fuck is Rem. Instead, he says, “With your jealous streak, yeah fucking right.”

Rem scowls, but there’s a layer of mischief underneath. “I don’t get jealous.”

“Yeah?” Nakoa licks his lips, then says, “All right, cool. I’ll go get dicked down by some big fucker with a selfish attitude to match yours.” He makes a show of peering around the parking lot. “What kind of job do you think I can get around here? Or is that something I need to go to Portland for?”

Rem makes a noise in his throat, tugs Nakoa back against him, grips Nakoa’s wrists in his own. “Fuck no. You’re—” He sighs. “Fine. You win.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d I win?”

“I’d offer myself up as prize, if I was worth anything.” He squints, plucks Nakoa’s sunglasses from atop Nakoa’s head, and puts them on. Nakoa almost days, “Don’t sell yourself short,” but Rem continues with, “Blowjob?”

“Tsk,” Nakoa says. “Like I don’t get those from you on the regular anyway.” He smiles, lopsided and pleased. “What else you got for me?”

But Rem’s attention has shifted, from Nakoa to something across the street. His skin is white, fear-lined, and there’s a Nakoa frowns, tries to turn back to see it, but Rem’s grip is tight and he won’t let Nakoa move.

“Could—” Rem clears his throat, looks back at Nakoa and smiles. “—let’s get on the road, hey?”

He still doesn’t let Nakoa turn back to see what he was looking at, holds Nakoa’s hands together.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Nakoa asks. He shakes out of Rem’s grip, turns, and— “Oh, fuck—”

He can’t get to the van quick enough. Rem, somehow, is already inside when Nakoa finally shuts the door behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know!” Rem jams the key into the ignition, turns it—the van stalls. “Fuck!”

His heart beats, hard, fast, in his chest. “Rem,” Nakoa says, still staring at the old, beat-up Bronco sitting across the street, at the guy sitting outside of it.

Michael.

“How’d he find us?” Rem mutters. “I didn’t think—”

The van roars to life—for a split second before stalling again. Nakoa’s heart climbs his throat, and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

But the van’s not starting, and Michael’s moving forward, now, towards the car. Nakoa moves through the van, out through the back. “I’ll find you,” Nakoa says, “later, okay? Just—I’ll find you. When we lose him—”

And he goes. Out the back door, and he books it, as soon as he hits the asphalt. Rem yells his name, but Nakoa goes anyway, down the parking lot and through the alley towards the boardwalk, where maybe, fucking maybe, he can get away.

He hopes, stupidly, that Michael doesn’t go after Rem instead, that he follows Nakoa. Rem’s already in too deep into Nakoa’s bullshit, and—

Someone stands at the end of the alleyway, blocking his escape, so he turns back around, stumbles over his own feet into one of the buildings. Breath catches in his chest, terror holding him tight as he stares ahead, at Rem, held in his father’s grip.

“You leave a messy trail, Nakoa.” Michael’s voice is quiet, calm, and Nakoa hears footsteps behind him, encroaching on his space, unsurprised when he feels the cold metal of a gun press against his neck. “Nice to see you again.”

“Let him—” Nakoa says, but the gun presses against his neck, harder, cuts him off, and he swallows. Waits.

“Rude to interrupt your father.” Michael, after a beat, does release Rem—only to send him reeling against the brick with a fist to his stomach. “Tell me, Nakoa. Did you think I would let you leave?”

Nakoa says nothing, eyes trained on Rem. Michael sighs, and, as Rem is bent over, coughing, knees him in the stomach. This time, Rem goes down. “Answer me.”

Yes; Nakoa figured, it’s been long enough since he heard about the secrets, since he’s been involved in any of Michael’s work; he should have been safe. He should have been fucking safe. And if it weren’t for Michael knowing someone fucking everywhere, a network of I-know-a-guy, Nakoa would have been.

He should have convinced Rem to fly out of the country. Maybe remote Russia isn’t so bad.

“No,” he lies, because Michael shouldn’t want to waste resources, not time or money, on Nakoa. He steps forward, ignoring Rem behind him, coughing.

Michael’s taller than he is, though not by much; Nakoa slouches. Rem still towers over him.

Rem could take him, if he was smart about it.

“I thought I was clear,” Michael says. “You are to stay with me. This is what we do, Nakoa. I can’t have my only son disappear, after all, can I? Even if he is a miserable excuse for one.”

Rem stumbles to his feet, croaks out a, “Hey, asshole—” before Michael turns, gun still in hand, and Nakoa can’t turn away fast enough, waiting for the sound of a gunshot that doesn’t come.

Instead, Michael winds up and slams the butt of the pistol into Rem’s head, turning back before Rem has even hit the ground. Blood surfaces from A gas on Rem’s forehead immediately, runs down his face, and…

Nakoa watches Rem, tunnel visioned. Is he okay. Is he okay there’s a lot of blood already and his chest is rising and falling but is it too much? Not enough—

“Can someone take that one back to the car,” Michael asks, “handcuff him and put him in the trunk?”

It’s not a request. But Nakoa still says, “He needs help. You—”

“Shut up.”

“He could be—”

“Easier if he is,” Michael says. “I’d rather not have to cut off his attempts at a Disney rescue. You are mine, you know. No other man you throw yourself will change that fact.” Michael pulls Nakoa’s chin up, forces him to look Michael in the eye. “It’s best for you at home. You keep poor company.”

Nakoa keeps poor company. That’s almost laughable. “Pot calling the kettle,” Nakoa says. “I promise I won’t say shit, okay? For fuck’s sake, Rem doesn’t even know.”

He wonders maybe if Michael knows that, or if he doesn’t care. If his sole concern is of Nakoa giving out pieces of Michael’s secrets, or if it’s…

Nakoa swallows. Waits.

Michael stares at him, expression blank, before he says, “You know, Nakoa. You haven’t proven yourself very trustworthy. You ran away from home. What am I meant to think?” He steps forward. “No. I think it’s best for you to stay with me.” He glances back towards Rem, still unconscious on the ground. “Your… friend, too.”

If Michael knows, he doesn’t day anything. Instead, he snaps his fingers, and the gun at Nakoa’s throat disappears. He tries to leave, get away, grab for Rem and shake him awake, but his before he can, his wrists are bound by zip ties.

Michael retreats down the alleyway, lighting a cigarette, and Nakoa opens his mouth—unsure what he’s going to say—but doesn’t get to call after him. Instead, there’s a burst of pain at the back of his skull, and the world goes dark.

#road to nowhere au #my writing

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gigglingknight · 6 years

Text

HEADCANON MASTERPOST FOR A MAN WHO JUST NEEDS A DAMN VACATION

I can't even be teasingly mean to him. Just look at him. Poor guy. He's so tired. Why tickle him when we could just tuck him into bed and let him be?

Unfortunately, he's just gonna have to deal with the next few bullet points.

GENERAL HEADCANONS:

I mean... I can't say the guy's the playful type. And when he does show anything remotely resembling playfulness, it borders sadism, and let's be honest with ourselves, it's scary as hell.

Does that mean anything concerning t-words is utterly impossible? Nah!

He is mildly ticklish. It's not too debilitating.

Not that he'd let you go on long enough to figure out what could be debilitating.

Worst spots are neck, stomach, and thighs. (The last one is absolutely not @thatawfulgoat's fault. Shoutout to them, by the way. Their art is choice.)

Stomach's definitely the spot to focus on, though.

If he doesn't break your hands before you get there.

BEING TICKLED HEADCANONS:

I mean, Christ, do you want to die?

I can't see him actively enjoying it in most settings, honestly. He seems like a guy who enjoys his personal space. Possibly an exception for a love interest in private, but even then, I can’t see him letting it last for long.

And Mic

He will do everything in his power to stop you once he realizes what you're doing.

The guy's a pro, too, so you either have to really get the drop on him or find some way to restrain him first for this to even work.

You'll probably get off easier if you choose the former.

Expect to have the actual shit beaten out of you after. Or, if you're a student, definitely expelled. At the very least, severely punished.

Mrs. Joke is CONSTANTLY trying to do it, since he can erase her Laughter Quirk, and he naturally gets twitchy around anybody raising wiggling fingers toward him now.

Once she succeeded and dug a hand into his stomach. He laughed and he wanted the earth to swallow him alive.

Were he not a hero, he would have a considerable death toll under his belt, starting with that she-demon.

This is not always the case. (More manga-specific headcanons ahead!)

Eri is not really the affectionate type, having been deprived of positive touch all her life. But while UA has custody of her, she begins to learn about how friends and family can interact in healthy ways.

She catches Mic trying to get the drop on Eraser and asks what he’s trying to do. He is MORE than happy to bring her up to speed on what tickling is.

“Well, little lady, it helps him laugh!”

“I guess he does need to laugh more...”

And that’s how the secret evil genius Presentation Michael uses a child to accomplish his awful schemes.

Aizawa can make sure she doesn’t accidentally use her Quirk on him, but he can do literally nothing else when the little ball of adorable starts poking at him.

What’s he gonna do? Push the little kid he’s looking after away? Rob her of that childish pride of getting the jump on her guardian? He’s not a monster.

He’ll laugh for her. He always will. Even if it is a little embarrassing.

Mic records on his phone from around the corner and pays her in sweets later. Uncle is very proud.

TICKLING OTHERS HEADCANONS:

Alright, let’s assume he didn’t kill you after the first attempt.

It does well remembering that this is a pragmatic man. If he knows a weakness and he’s in the heat of battle with someone, chances are, he WILL exploit it.

What does this mean for you if you’re devastatingly ticklish and you decide to pick a fight with him, and he’s somehow willing to cast aside a little bit of his dignity in using that against you?

It means you done goofed.

The capture scarf is definitely utilized. One end wrapped around a set of limbs--ideally the legs--and the other stroking whatever spot he knows drives you crazy.

If he doesn’t know? He’ll find out. He always finds out. He has the uncanny ability of just knowing where the worst spots are, judging by how a person is built.

He’s not remotely merciful, either. Once he starts, he’s not stopping until you’ve surrendered, start coughing up your lungs or crying, or just plain pass out.

He’s not a teaser by any means, but some of his blunt observations while he’s tickling can kind of come off that way.

“You should know better than sharing your weaknesses so openly.”

Just the riiiiiiiight amount of loud, shrieking laughter will coax that spooky, toothy grin of his... a wild reaction will push all of the right sadistic buttons for him.

Now, if he’s known you for a while and happens to be on good terms with you, he may not be that mean.

It probably means you’ve upgraded to being wrapped in a scarf and having fingers used on you instead.

Wait, did I imply that was a good thing? Because it isn’t.

He has a very versatile touch; his keen ears listen for what makes you shriek hardest, and whatever works best, he sticks with it. Maybe even switches it up occasionally, to keep you guessing.

He doesn’t have 6/5 in Technique for NOTHING.

On the more lighthearted side of things, he is not an outwardly affectionate man, but this doesn’t mean that is always necessarily exploitation or vengeance.

(More manga stuff ahead)

He hesitates initially with tickling stuff on little Eri, since she only knows painful touch. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable or afraid.

After she provokes him a couple of times in private, though, even he can’t resist smirking and picking his new baby off the floor to set her in his lap and return the favor. He’s always very gentle, not wanting to hurt her.

The way his tired, dry eyes sparkle down at her on the rare occasions he does it is everything.

Who needs therapy or a full night’s sleep when you have a giggly little daughter figure, anyway?

Mic spies on this, too, and cries for at least twenty minutes.

#it's probably my weakest out of the three #but uhhhhhhhh enjoy anyway #and if this ends up in the main tags please don't crucify me I'm just here for fluff bye

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arielle0808 · 6 years

Text

Headcanons Masterlist

RFA + Minor trio x MC

Their dream date

Believing they have lost MC after an accident

Mom friend MC

MC parents threatening them to hold them back a grade

Zen x MC with cat tattoo

Jealous RFA

MC confessing to the RFA + Minor Trio, who have a crush on them

MC conforting Zen, who believes some scars make him ugly

MC being the little sister of Jumin’s bodyguard

RFA + Saeran, Vanderwood and Rika going on a trip with MC

MC confessing to RFA+Minor Trio that they are in love with other RFA member

RFA+V+Saeran comforting MC waking up from a nightmare

RFA+ Minor Trio and a chubby, shy and innocent MC

RFA + Minor Trio reacting to Echo Girl’s bust being natural

RFA + Minor Trio comforting MC after the sudden loss of a friend

RFA + Minor Trio with a Mexican MC who speaks perfect English but no Korean and dyes their hair often

RFA + Minor Trio with an American MC who is learning Korean and has a strong accent

Saeran being cruel to MC during a fight

RFA + Minor Trio and MC sleeping weird

RFA + Saeran campus love encounter with MC

RFA + Minor Trio tickles fight >:D

MC fixing a favourite item of RFA + Minor Trio

RFA + Minor Trio and MC who dances anywhere anytime music starts playing

MC getting a nosebleed to RFA + Minor Trio

RFA + Minor Trio with rebellious teen daughter

MC having had a crush on Jumin before entering the RFA

MC getting RFA + Saeran in da mood (+ Vanderwood)

MC calling Zen, Jaehee, Jumin and V mom/dad and Seven and Yoosung’s reaction

RFA + V in a Hunger Games AU

RFA + Minor Trio with an MC that’s overcoming an abusive relationship

RFA + Minor Trio in a snow and rainy day!

RFA + Minor Trio and a super duper beautiful MC

RFA + V + Rika with an MC that looks like Rika

RFA + Minor Trio with an MC who’s Jumin’s stepsister

RFA + Saeran with an MC that has never said a bad word suddenly exclaiming one

RFA + Minor Trio with a daughter that took a fight

RFA + Minor Trio with stubborn MC who won’t rest despite being sick (>:()

RFA with an MC who turns out to be cold and mysterious irl

RFA with an MC who loves the FIFA World Cup

RFA + Minor Trio with an otome-addicted MC

RFA + V+ Saeran with a Taekwondo black belt MC who back kicks them on accident

RFA +Minor Trio stuck in a bundle of shenanigans with MC ‘cause they lost their glasses

RFA + Minor Trio with a shy and quiet MC who likes hard rock and is self-conscious about it

RFA + Minor Trio with a MC who’s in a gang

RFA + Saeran with MC saying ‘I love you’ out of the blue <3

RFA + Minor Trio motivating a lazy MC to move

RFA + Minor Trio with a MC with postpartum depression

Yoosung confessing to an MC he previously rejected

RFA + Minor Trio realising they’ve met MC before

RFA + Saeran with an MC who wants to adopt a child

RFA + Minor Trio with MC coming out as bi <3

RFA + Saeran + V with an MC who transforms into a child for a day!

RFA + Minor Trio with an MC trying to hide their depression

RFA + Minor Trio with an MC who’s beaten cancer <3

RFA with an MC who suffers episodes of panic

RFA + Saeran with an MC who has an eating disorder

RFA + Minor Trio with MC coming home late and drunk

RFA + Minor Trio with an MC who’s 11

Headcanons for the kinkiest RFA member (707)

RFA + V+ Saeran and an MC who does everything right

RFA + V + Saeran and an MC who can do no evil!

RFA and an MC who does staring contests with their cat

RFA + Minor Trio and an MC who has problems with their sleep

RFA + Minor Trio and MC suffering an athsma attack

RFA + V + Saeran and an MC who lives in a toxic household

RFA + Minor Trio and an MC with trust issues

RFA + V + Saeran and MC’s cat getting hit by a car

RFA + Saeran and MC falling asleep on their shoulder

MC meeting RFA + V + Saeran’s significant other (unrequited love)

RFA’s reaction to another RFA member cheating on MC

RFA realising they are in love with MC <3

Jumin and MC meeting the human version of Elizabeth 3rd

MC doubting Jumin’s love because of what he wrote on the back of a pic of Rika

RFA + Saeran finding MC with their shirt as their pyjama

RFA + Saeran listening to MC saying the same things they said during a wet dream

RFA + Saeran + V and an MC who’s oblivious to another person flirting with them

RFA + V + Saeran and MC believing they’re going to hit them during an argument

Jumin x MC with hematohidrosis

RFA reencounters MC with their child

RFA + V + Saeran with MC anxious about their studies

RFA + V + Saeran with an MC with superiority who has to be the best at the things they’re good at

RFA + Minor Trio and a hacker MC

V scared of thunders x MC

RFA + Minor Trio + Rika and trans girl MC

RFA + Minor Trio and an MC that looks like them

RFA + Minor Trio getting hard during a makeout session with an innocent MC

RFA + Minor Trio proposing <3

RFA + Minor Trio and MC who’s touchy in bed (sfw)

RFA + V + Saeran find out MC has a biting kink e.e

RFA + Saeran confessing out of the blue

RFA + V + Saeran and a usually hyper and excited MC feeling down u.u

RFA + Minor Trio during the slow wedding dance

RFA + V + Saeran and a sleepy MC

MC afraid to tell Saeyoung they’re pregnant + uncle!Saeran

RFA and an MC with cat pyjamas and socks :3

RFA and MC cutting their hair short

RFA + V + Ray and MC wanting to try anal

Other pairings

Saeran x Jumin headcanons

Saeyoung and Saeran happy childhood AU headcanons

RFA reacting to Jumin and Zen kissing (Juzen)

Fluffy Seven headcanons

Requests are: CLOSED!

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction Masterpost

Support me on my Ko-fi <3 or visit my Patreon for more content! :3

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nautiscarader · 6 years

Text

Nautiscarader’s Wendip Week day 7 - Bedtime story

Tyrone Pines demands an unusual bedtime story from his parents. Rated T for some innuendos.

Wendip, T, 4.7k

(Ao3) (FF) (masterpost, yes, I will update it, Mom)

- Dad, can I ask you a question? - a young, red-haired boy spoke, tugging himself under the thin blanket in his room - And I don't just mean the one I just asked... - Sure you can. - his father chuckled, glad that he was able to foresee one of his usual replies.

Tyrone Pines considered for a moment the issue that's been building up in his mind for the whole day, and only when his father raised an eyebrow waiting for the question, Tyrone asked.

- Well, today auntie Mabel said something about dating, and...

At once, the colour faded from Dipper's face as quickly as if someone pulled the plug, draining it all at once, though Tyrone was a bit preoccupied to spot that in the dim light of his night lamp.

- ... and I've been thinking: how did you and mom start dating? - Oh, you meant that question. - Dipper exhaled air in an unmistakable sign of relief - Well, champ, you know that me and my sister were staying at our Grunkle Stan's for the Summer, and ever since, we pretty much came back every year, right?

Tyrone nodded, eager to hear more about his father's childhood. These were always the best stories.

- Well, I fell in love in your mom pretty much instantly. I mean - he shrugged - When you meet that special person, you just know it, you know? Or, wait, you don't know, do you?... - he pondered for a while - Anyway, Wendy needed a bit more time to see that I am her prince charming. I think it happened when I was seventeen...

Dipper sat more comfortably on the edge of his son's bed, closed his arm around him, and begun his tale.

- We've been tracking this creature, for quite a while. Me, Mabel and your mom... I think it was the somber-tooth tiger... - You mean the saber-tooth tiger? - No, I meant the somber one! - Dipper assured his son - Horribly dull and morose animal, it lived in its cave, never wanted to go out and play with other ones. So, one day, Mabel said that we should go and cheer him up. I think her original plan was to give him a gym membership, but we have managed to talk her out of this idea, and simply settled on walking him out every once in a while.

He chuckled.

- I mean, it was still a tiger. Mabel led us to his cave... I think she said she already gave him a present once, for the extinct species day, that's how she knew where he lived. And so, we packed, and went into the forest that day, Mabel was leading of course, and me and your mom we were right behind her. - Were you holding hands? Auntie said that couples have to do that. - Err, well, we weren't a couple yet... Anyway, I think I was talking about something unbelievably funny to your mom, I remember her laughing all the way... - Dipper said wistfully - When you spend so much time with the person you love, time really flies, you know. We must have been walking for at least an hour or so, but it felt like five minutes. And so, we found this mouth of an underground brook, and that's where Dave lived. - Dave? - Tyrone asked quizzically. - Yeah, the tiger. At least, I think that's how Mabel called him. And so, we went further and further down the tunnel... - Dipper raised and wiggled his arms to make his story a bit scarier - And, well, we arrived at the last possible moment, because it turned out that the underground river was starting to overflow the cave! We had to split up, Mabel went to rescue Dave, your mom noticed some wooden beams to support the ceiling, since it must have been an old mine of sorts, and then I saw why Dave wasn't coming out of his cave. - What happened? - Turned out Dave had kittens! I should call them "cubs", but that's the name Mabel insisted on. I mean, they were biting and scratching, but they were kinda cute, I guess. So, anyway, I snatched all three of them, while your mom helped to support the ceiling, and we ran toward the exit. - he continued - We were all hooked to the same rope, you know, when you're going underground it's a must, and then, out of nowhere, I heard your mom screaming!

At once, Tyrone clapped his hands over his mouth.

- I felt this sharp tug of my rope, and I realised that your mom was lying on the ground, she must have slipped. So I ran towards her, I guess I gave the kittens to Mabel, took her into my arms - Dipper mimicked moved his body to mimic his pose - And I checked her pulse. She was alive and breathing, alright, but she just wouldn't wake up! Then I remember that Mabel told me that sometimes, people do fall into an enchanted, ever-lasting sleep, and only a true love's kiss can wake them up!

Tyrone's eyes grew wider.

- And what did you do? - Well, something I've been dreaming about for quite a while. I leaned and pressed my lips to hers, and the moment I did that, your mom woke up, and I helped her rush to the cave's exit.

Dipper sighed, staring dreamily into the ceiling.

- It was, I guess, you can say, pretty romantic. I mean, I wasn't really thinking about that mushy stuff before. - he suddenly brushed off - I was, uh, more into some manly activities, you know, but there comes the time when you gotta learn. - What happened then? - Uh, more kissing, as far as I remember. - Dipper's face twisted into a slight grimace, as he tried reliving that memory - I mean, after we helped Dave and his kittens escape. And we pretty much started dating ever since once we were out of that cavern.

A long, somewhat awkward silence fell in the room, interrupted only by the gentle whirring noise of the AC. Tyrone kept thinking, scratching his chin not unlike his father sometimes did, and somewhat sheepishly, he asked the question that's been lingering on his mind.

- Dad, is that all true? - Of course it is, buddy! - Dipper chuckled - I've seen some weird things happen here in Gravity Falls, but believe me, Wendy Corduroy falling in love with me was the weirdest one of all.

He winked, and pulled his son's hair to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

- Got your dose of a bedtime story, Ty? I can read you something if you want. - Thanks, Dad - Tyrone replied, tucking himself to sleep. - I think I'm gonna go to sleep now. - Then sweet dreams, son. Maybe you will dream about some great adventure, huh?

And with that, his dad turned off his night lamp, and walked out of the room, taking one more look at his sleeping son, as he closed the door.

Tyrone learned very quickly that adults often mistook "closed eyes" for "sleeping", and tonight he used the same camouflage technique to be left with his thoughts alone. Has his dad really rescued his mother that way? He knew it happened in fairy tales, but then again, he has seen some fairy-tale-like creatures on his own in the woods.

For at least half an hour, he rolled back and forth, debating whether or not his dad might have done impossible and... lie to him. Ideas were battling in his mind, and once he saw his dad kissing a tiger on their front porch, he knew he was going to fall asleep soon, and before even that thought has crystallised in his brain, he was snoring loudly.

The night's rest gave Tyrone time to formulate a plan to test his father's trustworthiness next night, and he did all in his might to let his mom tuck him in bed this time. His plan worked, and after supper and bath, he was glad to see the flaming hair of his mother peeking into his room.

- You want me to read you something? - she asked, and almost automatically reached for the thick, pink book he got for Christmas last year. - Uh-uh - he shook his head - Mom, can I ask you something? - Sure, sweetie. - and instead of sitting, she lay next to him, gently ruffling a single strand of his hair. - How did you and Dad start dating?

The question astonished his mom even more than his dad, but she recovered from the initial shock much quicker, as the same dreamy, warm smile he loved so much appeared once again on her face.

- Let me guess, Auntie Mabel told you something weird yesterday, huh? - Uh-uh! - Tyrone eagerly replied - And Dad told me yesterday, but I'm not sure if that was all true. - Oh, did he? - Wendy placed her hand under her chin and listened to his son. - Yeah, he said that you went to some cave, and there was a tiger there, and... - Oh, yeah...

Wendy sighed, and rolled to her back suddenly.

- I remember it now. You know, we should visit Dave some time. That old mine is like, in five minutes distance from here. He really is an interesting fella. - Wendy paused for a moment - Did your dad tell you how he tripped himself and me onto the ground? - No... - Tyrone said slowly, looking into his mother's eyes, waiting to hear more. - Yeah, we were rescuing him and we were all tied together, cos you know... - ... cos you always have to have your security rope tied when you go down into the caves! - Tyrone interrupted quickly. - Very good, Tyrone! - Wendy cheered and tickled him at his exposed neck - Anyway, we were tied together, except, it was your father, who tied ropes this time, and well, he's never really been good at it. I mean, he can babble about string and knot theories, but we, Corduroys, know string and knot practice! I was last in line, and I have redone the knots on my belt, but your dad haven't, they undid themselves and he plummeted straight onto me, almost knocking me out!

Tyrone leaped onto his knees.

- Were you alright, mom? - Sure I was, you need more than that to break me. - she chuckled - But, yeah, I had to scold him a bit after that, and when we were rushing out of that cave, I was in charge of securing the ropes. - Didn't that happen when you were walking out of that cave? - Tyrone scratched his head. - Oh, no, that was right at the start. - Wendy cleared her throat and turned on her side once more. - Your dad... he was always trying to impress me, you know. And I guess I let my guard down this one time. And when we were escaping that flooded mine, well, as I said, I made sure we all came out safe and sound. - So... there was no magical kiss or anything? - Magic kiss?

Wendy's eyes once again opened wide, though this time they were reduced to slits once she started laughing.

- Oh, me and your father didn't kiss until, like, a year later, I don't know why Dipper would say that we kissed back then. I mean, we were tumbling on the ground together, but that hardly counts as a kiss... - So, there were no tiger kittens to be rescued?

Upon hearing those words, Wendy suddenly stopped laughing, and though she tried to hide it, she avoided her son's eyes for a while.

- No, that was true, alright.

She turned back onto her side, and closed her arm around Tyrone, bringing him closer to her chest.

- Mabel was rescuing Dave, I found some old support beams, rotten as heck, but they had to do, and suddenly, I see Dipper dashing deeper into the cave. I didn't know what to do: the tiger roared behind me, Mabel didn't know what happened, I was keeping the planks together, and then, just before the water floods the lower levels, Dipper came out with three smaller tigers in his arms. - she spoke quietly, though her next words were even softer. - I've never noticed them. I was about to let go, but I saw your dad dash further, and I had to keep holding the ceiling.

Up until now, Tyrone wasn't sure if he was seeing correctly, but as the story progressed, he realised that the orange light of his night lamp glimmered in the his mother's eyes a bit too much.

- Yeah, not my proudest moment. - she wiped away the tears, and stared at her son, left with his mouth wide open. She immediately pulled herself together, and continued - You should have seen your dad back then. His arms bitten and scratched, his shorts all damp, he looked so miserable.

That didn't exactly cheer Tyrone up, but at least made him speak again.

- So, no magic kiss, then? - Yeah, sorry, but no, that's not how life works. - she once again rolled to her back - We had our first kiss when he was helping me with math homework for college. I guess then we really started dating, since we spent so much time together. Cos you know, your dad has always been an egghead-

She caught herself saying that word, and immediately backed up.

- I mean, I wanted to say that he was smart. Much smarter than me at these subjects. Don't use that word, okay, it's not nice, sorry I said that. - I know. Dad calls himself egghead too.

Wendy smiled, gave him a soft kiss, and with that, she got onto her feet.

- So, now you know how things really played out. - Thanks, mom. - Tyrone returned the kiss his mother placed on his cheek. - You sure you don't want me to read something, well, less touchy? - Nah, I'm good. I'm half-Corduroy! - he cheered. - That's my boy. -she smiled - Sleep well, honey.

His mother wasn't as easily fooled as his dad with the "closed eyes trick", and Tyrone had to pull a convincing snore to let her finally close the door to his room. He thought that his mom's story would settle things on, but instead, it opened even more cans of worms. He wasn't sure why adults said this phrase when they were troubled, but he definitely felt that way.

Now he had two versions of the story, and they didn't really match. His dad never said anything about math homework, and he wasn't sure why would he suddenly forget about this. His mom's story sounded much more believable, but there was something fishy about the way she told it. There was no way she would have missed three tiger cubs just lying on the ground. He hoped to feel relieved that his father wasn't lying to him, but now, a second, even more gruesome possibility opened up to him: were both his parents lying to him? And if so, have they done it before?

This night, it took Tyrone way more time to fell asleep, and no amount of rolling back and forth helped, until he was simply too tired to think. Before he fell asleep, he decided he needs to confront both his dad and mom tomorrow morning.

Tyrone chose the breakfast to do so, since it was a definite moment when they were all present in one room, and after hearing both sides of the story, it was now time to merge it all together to see which bits were true and which were not. Secondly, breakfast seemed a perfect time to settle important matters, as his family was currently in a week-long debate about which should be poured first: milk, or cereal. His father, as did Tyrone, opted for milk, and adding cereal later, while his mom was happy to do the opposite, both vocally expressing why their way was better.

He was about to ask his parents about their dating history, when there was a soft knock on the garden door, and the figure appeared in the doorway that suddenly pushed all matters aside.

- Auntie Mabel! - Tyrone cheered and jumped from his seat almost straight into the sweater-clad arms of his aunt, when he opened the door. - Oh, look at you, you've grown so much since I last saw you! - she ruffled his hair, and pulled him off the ground into a tight hug. - Mabel, you've seen him two days ago. - Dipper grunted from his over bowl, giving his sister a soft embrace, while picking his son from her. - Oh, shush, brother. I have one nephew, and I'm gonna measure him every... Single... Time! - she punched her brother's chest punctuating each word.

Mabel unceremoniously sat at the spare chair, and joined their breakfast. She seemed to prefer neither mom's or dad's way of eating cereal; with no extra bowl, she simply poured some of the sugar-coated treats into her mouth and topped it off with the luke-warm milk, munching on the mess in her mouth.

- Don't try doing this... - she grumbled, trying to chew - Or you might choke. I am... a trained... professional!

She spoke the last words quite clearly, after she swallowed the whole soggy mess in one go, and spread her arms, almost as if she was doing a magic trick, though only Tyrone seemed to enjoy it. And as auntie Mabel was about to perform something even more ridiculous, an inspiration hit Tyrone. He hasn't heard all sides of the story: there was a third person to observe how did his parents get together!

- Auntie Mabel, I've been asking mom and dad about something, but their stories don't really add up. - he suddenly blurted out.

An ominous silence fell in the kitchen. The three adults exchanged knowing looks, but only Mabel seemed to be interested in diving into this topic, while his dad and mom seemed somewhat terrified. They have obviously talked about this at night, something Tyrone hasn't predicted. He wasn't sure what adults do at night, come to think about it.

- Yes... and what is that question? - I wanted to know how mom and dad started dating! - Tyrone banged his spoon on the table. - Cos you said last time what "dating" means, and I wanted to know...

And, without pausing, before either of his parents could react, he re-told both versions of the story, gesturing wildly in the process, and only once he was finished, he realised that both his parents and Mabel wore a deep shade of crimson on their faces but only his aunt's was easy to understand, once she burst into laughter, releasing the air she's been holding.

- Oh, you guys have the wildest imagination. - she moved her stare from his dad to his mom, both still deeply flustered. - Alright, kiddo, I was there, with these two, and I can tell you how it really happened...

She cleared her throat, relaxed in her chair, clamped her right hand over protesting Dipper's mouth, placed a single finger of her other hand at Wendy's lips, and begun speaking.

- So yeah, we wanted to help Dave. Cos I haven't heard from him for months! And by the way brother - she turned to his dad - Yeah, that was his real name. I helped him write it on the cave, in big, shiny letters, like you couldn't have missed those! Anyway - she continued - I wanted to take him to some juice bar, or something, maybe a library, or the movies. I forced Dipper to go with me, and I bribed him by saying we can take Wendy with us. Because of course - she rolled her eyes - Your dad was madly in love with her. Oh, he might been saying he's over her, and all of that, yadda, yadda, yadda, but any woman who would look at him would tell: this guy's in love.

His father's attempts at correcting Mabel's story intensified, mostly by trying to reach Mabel's face, but her arm seemed just long enough to prevent his from doing anything other than banging into the table in sheer frustration.

- And so, we went to visit Dave. We took Wendy, because, let's face it, she was most skilled at cave-dwelling. And you just had to be there to listen these dorks yammering all the way. - Mabel shook her head - Because, you see, while she wouldn't ever admit it, your mom was at this point also in love with your dad!

At that revelation, another force, much fiercer than Dipper's, tried to stop Mabel, but even Wendy's power could not stop Tyrone's legendary auntie from stepping down.

- I think It's because that year your dad finally outgrew her. And if there is one way to make girl fall in love with you is to be a tall...

Wendy launched a cereal box at Mabel, but missed.

- ...kinda handsome, I guess... - she looked at his father - I mean, he was doing the stupid goatee at that point...

A wooden spoon flew over her head from Dipper's side, and a second one followed from Wendy's.

- ...and be all into adventures. So, we went into that cave. I went first, cos I've been there before. Your dad wanted to impress your mom, he did the ropes, she let him, and yeah, she fell. And Dipper did not kiss your mom, because she was perfectly fine! She just tripped and fell, but Dipper was all "oh no! The love of my life is dead now, better see if I can make her un-dead". - Mabel made an impression of his dad again. - So he ran towards her, and guess what, he tripped on the same rock, fell onto her, and I think he gave her a bump when your foreheads collided.

Almost unconsciously, both Wendy and Dipper moved their hands to their heads, massaging two invisible bruises.

- I mean, their lips might have brushed, I guess that's possible, but I think the definition of kiss is a bit more strict. - Seriously, Dipper? That's what you told him? - Wendy scoffed, wrenching out of Mabel's restraints - I think that head bump might have messed with your dad's brain. - she chuckled. - Hold on, sister, cos you're no better than my brother. - Mabel suddenly interrupted Wendy. - See, it was the kittens that really tied the two together. - Kittens, or cubs? - Tyrone asked, interrupting the story. - Neither, I think they're in college now. - Mabel replied - Anyway, your mom was so impressed that Dipper saved them, that, I guess, she finally gave in, and the two started dating. - And what about math homework? - Tyrone pressed. - Math? Oh, boy, your mom might not be as good as your egghead dad over here, but she's been doing your grandfather's taxes for like ten years. She didn't need homework, she just needed more Dipper.

At those words, their parents' faces were positively glowing with embarrassment.

- Oh, sure, she might call it that way, but it was just a pretence to get more smooching. Believe me, I caught them a few times, and somehow they were never calculating the roots of any parabolas there.

She finally let go of Dipper and Wendy's faces, who, perhaps due to sheer unease stopped fighting Mabel.

- See, the thing is, when you're in love, you kinda act weird. And stupid. Like a dork. Trust me, I've been through this many times myself! And your dad has already been the biggest one I've ever seen, so you can imagine what happened when he was near Wendy. And you - she pointed to his mom - You were always laid-back and cool, but once Dipper grew those few inches and his voice dropped, you started getting weak knees around him too!

A soft smile drew on Wendy's face, and as if in a mirror, another one appeared on Dipper's.

- Yeah. Love does make you a bit stupid. But that's okay, cos if that other person gets silly too, then you have someone else to help you in your life with, and you get your smarts back. - she grabbed, as forcefully as she did the cereal box, Wendy and Dipper's shoulders and moved them closer to hers - Well, kinda, in case of Dipper's. - Hey! - his dad protested. - And if you have a third person to help you get through this mess, - Mabel continued - Then you're in a safe hands. Am I right, guys? - Yeah, I think - muttered Dipper, trying to wriggle out of his sister's restraints. - Uh, sure, Mabel. - Wendy answered in a be-polite tone. - So yeah, your parents didn't lie to you, they just remembered things differently. That happens, I guess. - "I guess"? Mabel, you're the one who's teaching in pre-school, you should know more about psychology. - Silence, brother, Mabel is speaking. - Mabel spoke - And I know way more stories, though! You haven't heard the best things about your parents. I can tell you how I helped them during the wedding, and when the town was flooded with soap, and what happened after you were born...

She begun listing their shared adventures on her hand, and as he was about to continue his breakfast, her words suddenly jogged something in Tyrone's memory.

- Auntie Mabel, that's right, I wanted to ask you another thing: where do babies come from?

Mabel stopped her long speech, and for a moment, she looked exactly as perplexed at other two adults in the room. Almost at the same time, they all blinked, but before Wendy or Dipper could say anything to Mabel, she sensed that, jumped from her chair, wiped her mouth with the long sleeve of her sweater, and in no time travelled the distance to the door.

- Oh, my, look at the time, I've been here so long, and I completely forgot I left Waddles plugged.... and I have to water the iron... and walk the flowers... - she proclaimed loudly - Anyway, I'm sure your mom and dad will know all about it, kiddo!

She ruffled his hair once more, gave him a kiss on the cheek and waving goodbye, stormed out of their house.

Before he went to sleep that day, Tyrone opened the drawer of his night-stand, took a notebook he called "journal", and wrote down what he learned from his dad, mom and auntie, though he skipped the whole talk about where babies come from, substituting the complicated answer with a simple "Yuck".

The older Tyrone was, the weirder and more bizarre the world looked to him. There were so many things he didn't know about, and while he usually could rely on his mom and dad to help him understand those, it was utterly bizarre that a question existed which could cause adults to run away in panic. Perhaps there were more of them, some even more terrifying? That prospect might have scared other kids, but it only encouraged Tyrone more, and he knew he won't stop bugging his parents, auntie, and all their friends until he would learn the truth about everything.

And though he didn't know about it, somewhere, deep in the woods, something heard his call of knowledge, and slowly waked it back to life, lump by lump. Something more than eager to help Tyrone Pines with his goal, and utterly desperate to achieve its.

WHZ QRRZ CRU VWN, TCI POMI BOP WHEF XKE NXUOIKHR D FHCJQH, AIH BOP KHT RIDK

Lost species day is a thing. This year go and visit your favourite cryptid.

Tyrone Pines comes from a stunning piece of art by @elentori-art

#wendip #wendipweek #wendip week #wendy x dipper #dipperxwendy #gravity falls #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #bedtime story

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