#Chapter 9: The Abusive Man and Breaking up

[stromuprisahat]

Why don't I buy Malyen's sudden change of heart in R&R, pt. 1

I wouldn’t call him an abuser. I mean, he can be really nice for weeks at a time.

Chapter 6: The Abusive Man in Everyday Life

Do you wonder, why am I worried for Alina? Why I don't think she's safe with Malyen, looking into future?

Life with an abuser can be a dizzying wave of exciting good times and painful periods of verbal, physical, or sexual assault. The longer the relationship lasts, the shorter and farther apart the positive periods tend to become. If you have been involved with an abusive partner for many years, the good periods may have stopped happening altogether, so that he is an unvarying source of misery.

We never see him hit Alina, but with abusers, it doesn't mean anything.

An abusive man can be scary. Even if he never raises a hand or makes a threat, his partner may find herself wondering what he is capable of. She sees how ugly he can turn, sometimes out of the blue. His desire to crush her emotionally is palpable at times. He sometimes tears into her verbally with a cruelty that she could never have imagined earlier in their relationship. When a man shows himself capable of viciousness, it is natural, and in fact wise, to wonder if he will go even further. Abused women ask me over and over again: “Do you think my partner could get violent? Am I overreacting? I mean, he’s not a batterer or something.”

It's ironic Malina's great falling out in Siege and Storm is due to lack of Alina's enthusiasm regarding Malyen's amorous advances. No wonder he throws a tantrum, when he thinks she turns him down.

An abusive man commonly rolls all of his emotional needs into one tremendous bundle, which he expects sex to be able to carry. He tends to have little real heart-to-heart connection with his partner, since a man cannot be truly close to a woman he is abusing. (Although his partner may feel very attached to him through traumatic bonding, and he may feel very attached to having her meet his various needs, attachment and closeness are two different things.) So he compensates for the lack of genuine intimacy by elevating sex to the highest plane, burdening it with the responsibility of providing for him all the emotional satisfaction that he is not receiving elsewhere in his relationship.

Chapter 7: Abusive Men and Sex

When Alina begins to find herself as an independent individual, when she dares to want to be THE Sun Summoner and tells him so, Malyen feels threatened and demonstrates some of his worst behaviour.

The concept of tolerance can also be applied to partner abuse, but with different implications. As an abusive man adapts to a certain degree of mistreatment of his partner, his feelings of guilt nag at him less and less, so he is then able to graduate to more serious acts. He becomes accustomed to a level of cruelty or aggression that would have been out of the question for him a few years earlier. In some cases the concept of tolerance also applies to the abused woman, when she becomes inured to his abusiveness and starts to stand up to him more. He then increases his abusiveness because he sees that it takes more to frighten or control her than it used to. This escalation is similar to the style of crowd control used by a military dictatorship, which shoots rubber bullets as long as they are adequate to disperse protestors but switches to live ammunition when the crowds stop running away from the rubber bullets.

Chapter 8: Abusive Men and Addiction

I've pointed out exactly this detail before reading Bancroft's book. The most terrifying moments for me aren't those, when Malyen screams, but when he's nice and I DO know what he can become.

Almost no abuser is mean or frightening all the time. At least occasionally he is loving, gentle, and humorous and perhaps even capable of compassion and empathy. This intermittent, and usually unpredictable, kindness is critical to forming traumatic attachments. When a person, male or female, has suffered harsh, painful treatment over an extended period of time, he or she naturally feels a flood of love and gratitude toward anyone who brings relief, like the surge of affection one might feel for the hand that offers a glass of water on a scorching day. But in situations of abuse, the rescuer and the tormentor are the very same person.

Chapter 9: The Abusive Man and Breaking up

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Breaking Free Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N struggles to navigate life and move on after breaking up with her abusive ex, a well known and well respected man in the town, she thinks there is no hope but Dean shows her there is always a way.

Warnings: This story contains context of an abusive relationship and violence, please don't read if you're not comfortable. I'll add trigger warnings to each chapter.

Chapter 1: Hearts & Tires

Chapter 2: In the Shadows of Lies

Chapter 3: Finding Light

Chapter 4: The Path Ahead

Chapter 5: Falling Into You

Chapter 6: Dangerous Reunion

Chapter 7: The Rescue Mission

Chapter 8: Strength in Vulnerability

Chapter 9: Fragile Steps

Chapter 10: Choosing Courage

Chapter 11: Finding My Place

Chapter 12: Amidst the Uncertainty

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 9: ~

When the Walls Crumbled:

This is it. The long awaited Murine/Muirinnes chapter.

Fun fact: This is my first ever romance piece I've done for any fan-fiction. So, I have no idea if this is good or not.

Another fact: I had already completed this chapter before chapters 7 and 8. This was going to be chapter 7, but I had to map out a timeline when I decided this was going to be a mini-arc, and not a time-jump to post-rescue. Plus, during that time, I decided not to have military involvement. What I have instead you'll soon see.

Tw: Parental abuse and gambling.

Part 10:

Innes couldn't sleep. He found himself staring at the container ceiling. Drool ran down the chin, which only momentarily snapped him out of his daydream. Then right back to it. He tried, but no amount of tossing or turning was helping. Even when he was leaned against Muir, he found no comfort. A quick check from his watch showed it was 2:15am.

'Maybe some fresh air will help?' He asked himself.

With a quick glance at Muir, seeing him sleeping peacefully, Innes carefully moved from his side and made it for the door. He'll go outside, sit at the railing, and have a smoke to himself. Or he would do that if a tendril didn't wrap around his waist. Of course, Muir was secretly awake the entire time. Sneaky little shit. Innes accepted defeat with a deflated sigh and turned to see Muir lift him up and place him in front of his face.

'I thought you were asleep.'

Muir ignored the empty statement.

'Innes, what's wrong?' Because he could sense something. His heartbeat wasn't normal, and he felt it sink at the question. Then there were his eyes. For hours, Innes has had a hurt look in them. Even when he cheered for Brodie and Finlay, and when gorged on the leftovers, the look was still there. Plus, even if they've been practically inseparable, Innes couldn't bring himself to look Muir in his. Even now, Innes was clearly looking through him. 'It's okay. You know it'll be okay.'

Words filled and drowned Innes' mind.

'Stupid boy. You deserve this. How can you look at yourself? Stop being a fucking idiot!'

The words Innes would hear from his father and he'd repeat them as self-punishment.

'Don't cry. You're not a man if you cry!'

He wanted to, but a part of him was always afraid to. He feared his father would find out, even over a hundred miles away and being 6 feet under. That man left a mark that was hard to scrub off. No luck. Even Innes had a breaking point. Tears began to fall, and Muir began to wipe them away.

'Why aren't you mad at me?' A lump formed in his throat, and his heart began to race. 'I left you alone. I just ran whilst you turned into,' he gestured to Muir's exposed ribs. 'This. I'm your supervisor. I'm supposed to look out for you. You said that yourself!' He paused to catch his breath, but to no avail. 'I'm so sorry, Muir.'

The guilt had been eating away at him. Since he heard Muir calling out for him in distress. Even if no one could blame him, Innes' heart felt heavy, and he wanted to be sick. In his mind, because of him, Muir will never be human again. His body blew open and turned inside out with ribs exposed and flesh crawling along the hard-hat, which was possibly the reason it didn't spread further. He lost his hair, his mouth was stretched on one side, and most of his lips had melted away, half-blind despite having multiple eyes, and his innards hung inches from the floor. It was all his fault. Muir's cry for help will be something he can never forgive or forget.

'Innes, where ya going?!'

'INNNNNEEEEEEEES!'

'Innes? Help me, Innes!'

'Innes? Where's Innes? I just need help, eh?'

How was Muir able to break down the walls he tried so hard to build? What was this man to him? Innes never cried, and yet in one day, he cried over him twice. Not even his ex-wife got him to cry when she left him for someone else. He didn't cry when his house got repossessed through his gambling. And he certainly didn't cry when he heard his dad had passed. A tendril kept wiping his tears away. Muir pulled him closer, and Innes hugged what he could of his face. He didn't want to let go.

The last 3 years raced through his mind. Innes remembered the day he was called up to Rennick's office. At first, he thought it was because he had rolled up his sleeves and pants because of the unbearable summer heat. He wasn't too happy to hear he'd be looking after a newcomer with no prior training, but he did get a bollocking for the uniform.

Muir stepped off the chopper without a single hair out of place or crease in his uniform. Like all new hires, he had brought too much baggage. A backpack and small suitcase. Innes knew more than half of that wasn't going to see the light of day for months. Always amusing to see. He lingered at the steps with crossed arms and a smirk. Rennick introduced himself with that fake yet convincing smile to the untrained eye. In all honesty, Innes thought Muir had brided his way to become a deckhand. How can someone just leave their family farm and instantly work on an oil rig? Still, he grinned and taught Muir everything he could, even if he kept his walls up.

He couldn't tell when they began to crumble, but whenever there was a crack, he would try to mend it. It was exhausting. A fight he had to surrender because as much as he denied it, feelings started to bloom. He hoped they would go overtime, but the opposite happened. Muir's looks, his smell, his laugh, and even his clumsy nature that has gotten the pair in more than enough trouble, just made Innes -

Oh. That's why. Because for the first time in years, Innes was genuinely happy.

'I love you.' He let out a shakey breath and sniffled as he pulled away. The muscles in his neck twitched as he smiled. The hurt look in his eyes was gone, and he could finally look at Muir. His heart continued to race and skip a beat. 'I wished I told you sooner.' He noticed Muir began to cry, but with a smile on the one side of his face. One of pure joy, as if all the problems in the world had washed away. Now, it was Innes' turn to wipe his tears. He'd noticed his right eye was completely open again, and his nose at some point had been put back into shape.

'I've been waiting three years for you to say that.' He stifled a laugh and lightly squeezed Innes' waist. 'I love you too, my big man.'

'I think that's you now.'

'Don't get smart with me.'

The pair shared a mix of laughter and cries. They pulled each other together for another long hug. Innes kissed Muir above his good eye, then at the bridge of his nose, where they placed their foreheads together. They dried each other's tears. Muir moved his head towards Innes to replicate a nuzzle on a part of his shoulder.

It might be the middle of winter, but they felt warm. It was inviting. It was new. It was something they didn't want to let go of, so they stayed like this. Frozen in time.

Roy opened the door. Neither had come for breakfast, so he thought it was best to check up on them. He found the pair huddled together. Tendrils wrapped around Innes like a blanket, except for his arms hugging them in return. Muir lightly snored, stretched, and gently pulled Innes closer.

He was no expert, but Roy could tell. He slowly closed the door and left the pair. What harm would another hour do?

[13as07]

Birthright #7

(Itachi & Sasuke Uchiha Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to GintoAi]

Requested by: You know who you are

Word Count: 4,277

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Onii-Chan, Daddy, Cock Warmer, Pocket Pussy, Lap Dog, Crybaby, Good Girl, Pathetic, Useless

Incest (Brother/Sister)

Verbal Fighting

Threats of Death

Proof/Mentions of Child Abuse

Mentions of Mother/Son & Uncle/Niece Incest

Sadly, no Itachi smut this chapter; Next chapter, however...

Blowjob/Deep Throating/Face-Fucking

Hair Pulling

Voyeurism

Degrading

Breeding Kink

As of right now there's plans for a Part #8, #9, & #10

Sorry it took so long to get out. I'm on the butt end of moving and with the holiday coming up I've been swamped at work :(

———————————————————————

     Seven or eight pairs of eyes are caught on me, staring at me as the hushed voices of Onii-Chan and Daddy muffle their way into the locker room. They're loud enough to hear their voices but soft enough to not make out any of their words. The animal masks are all aimed at me, sizing me up as they wait for their commander to come back, making a hint of fear muster in my chest.

     "You let what happen to Princess?" Itachi yelps, the group of eyes snapping toward the door before shifting back to me. My fear is no longer a muster; instead, it's a heavy boulder crushing my lungs. I knew he was going to be mad, especially at Daddy, but I didn't realize he'd be this mad.

     "No. No, no, no, no," Itachi continues to yell, slamming the locker room door open. His underlings scatter at the ringing sound of the door hitting the wall, off to finish changing out of their uniforms like they were doing before Daddy and I showed up. "I said - "

"I know," Daddy interrupts, his face as flushed and angry as Onii-Chan's.

"I said," Itachi hisses, the bloody color of his sharingan dripping into his eyes. He takes a step toward Daddy, his body tense and ready to start a fight if that's what our Father wishes for. "She wasn't safe and you didn't listen. You said it would be fine. You said you'd be with her all day. You said to only worry about making it home. You said you had everything under control."

"Obviously," he barks, taking another step forward. Daddy backs up, his sharingan glowing now too. "You didn't have everything under control. You weren't with her all day. You're a liar and can't be trusted with Princess."

"Itachi - "

"A pathetic man doesn't take care of what's his, right? That's what you said yesterday, isn't it? What the hell does that make you then?"

The room falls silent, everyone fearing to even breathe with the men of my family at each others' throats. Everyone is fearful of being at the receiving end of the glares being exchanged between Daddy and Itachi.

     "Fine," Daddy hisses after a few moments, glaring for another beat before turning his eyes away from my brother, his attention set on me. His face softens at the sight of me but his anger with Itachi is still brewing in his sharingans. "Your Mother and I have plans tonight," he starts, keeping his tone matter-of-fact. "You will stay with Itachi. You will go home with Itachi. You will not leave the house without Itachi, am I understood?"

     "Yes Sir," I murmur, glancing toward Onii-Chan. He's still steaming, the pointed tips of his anger still aimed at our Father. "Have a good night out with Mom."

     "I will," Daddy utters, his eyes slowly blinking until the red of them melts away. "Be safe, Princess. Have a good night with your brothers."

     "I will," I echo, squirming when Daddy snaps his eyes back toward Itachi, the order to have a goodnight framed like a threat toward my brother.

     The staring seems to drag on forever, finally breaking when Daddy turns away, pulls the door open, and slides out of the room. An edible exhale spills from Itachi, his body loosening once our Father is completely gone.

     Slowly, his head turns toward me, sharingans still shining and a mix of worry and sadness coating his features. "Are you alright, Princess?"

     "I'm fine," I chirp, lacing a lopsided smile on my face. I don't know why Daddy and Itachi are strung so tight. I know it's not proper for men to touch me like the clerk did, but it's no different than how they touch me. The guy just had a bad attitude the whole time, unlike the men in my family. Well...

Itachi studies my face, his eyes jumping around looking for even a hint of a lie. "Okay," he finally utters, taking a few steps forward. His hand catches on the shirt of his I'm borrowing, using the material to lead me further into the room.

I trudge along after him, the others in the room scurrying to stay out of our way. I only stop when Onii-Chan settles in front of a locker. He lets me go, his fingers snapping before pointing at the bench screwed in between the rows of lockers. He doesn't even bother to look as I sit down, his focus on popping his lock open. "Aside from... all that, did you have a good day?"

"Yes!" I cheer, clapping my hands as I wiggle on the bench. "We stopped at a few shops, and then got flowers from the Yamanakas and then I got my dress for the Betrothal Ball."

"How were the shops?" Itachi questions, slowly tugging his weapons out of their hidey holes and placing them in their rightful places in his locker.

"They were good. I got you a present like I promised and I got Sasuke this big onigiri tray I found." Itachi hums, sparing me a glance before he starts pulling off his safety gear. "The Yamanaka flower shop was okay. We got peonies for the ball. Oh, and their chief is coming by tomorrow."

"Why?" Itachi barks, snapping his head toward me. His face falls once his sight settles on me, a deep frown coating his lips. "I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't mean to yell at you like that."

"It's okay - "

"No, it's not. You don't deserve to be treated like that. Onii-Chan is sorry. Anyway, why is the Yamanaka chief coming by tomorrow?"

I stare at Itachi for a moment, trying to figure out if I should acknowledge his apology or if it's better left alone; I decide to leave it alone. "His daughter got her feathers all ruffled because Daddy let me get peonies. I kind of pushed her buttons, poking at her crush on Sasuke and the fact that the Yamanakas don't treat her how you guys treat me. She didn't like that very much and ended up insulting the clan."

Again, Itachi turns around, his eyes slowly blinking as he looks at me, waiting for me to further explain. "She said I was jealous because I come from an 'incest-ridden clan'," I whisper, my focus on my shoes so I don't have to see his reaction. Even though I don't see it, I can still feel it, still feel the angry heat waffling off of him.

After a few moments of madden-filled silence, Itachi continues to ask about my day. "Besides..." he falls quiet, his jaw clicking three or four times before he continues to speak. "How was dress shopping?"

"Um..." I murmur, glancing around at the room still packed full of people, most of them waiting for my brother to dismiss them with a few stragglers trying to finish changing. "It was... um... I got a dress." I can feel the heat of his stare even with my eyes glued to the wall. He's already not happy with Daddy and when he wiggles more of the events at the boutique out of me, he's going to be even more upset.

Itachi crouches in front of me, hands on my knees to pull them apart before he inches closer to me. When he settles, my knees are pressed into his sides. My eyes flicker down, checking his placement. He's further away from me than normal but still closer than most brothers would be, though, I guess most brothers wouldn't be in a position like this to start in.

"Princess," he hisses, tone low and warning as he stares up at me. "Did something else happen at the dress shop?" He whispers, fingertips clinging to the bones of my knees.

"Well... nothing... nothing like, bad, I guess," I whisper back, bouncing my eyes around to look anywhere but him. "Daddy and Kenzo were just... they just... had some fun." My tone is almost mute with the last three words, but not mute enough that Onii-Chan doesn't pick up on it.

He springs up from his spot, his hands sliding up to cling to my thighs. Itachi is hunched over me, head pressed against mine, and his lips right next to my ear. "And what the hell might that mean?" His voice fizzles, his anger quickly building to the point it was at when Daddy was in the room. His head tilts after the question, lips pulled away from me and his ear pointed toward me.

My hands settle on his shirt, balling up the material to tug him closer to me. I keep my tone hushed, making sure the events and the game Daddy had me play with his advisor present stay between the two of us. Onii-Chan's fingers tighten against my flesh with every word that passes my lips, making me worry that he'll leave bruises behind.

     "I'm going to kill him," Itachi grumbles when I'm done speaking. He pulls away from me, a rush to his movements as he finishes changing.

     "Which one?"

     "Both."

                     ————————————

     Itachi stays secure behind me, his elbows digging into my sides as he works on unlocking the door. Once the door pops open, I shoot forward, racing inside to make sure Daddy or Kenzo hid my dress away so Onii-Chan doesn't see it.

"Princess!" He yells after me, his tone still pissy from the events of my day. "You shouldn't go racing into the house until I'm sure it's safe!"

     Sasuke's bedroom door slams open, his head poking out to stare at the two of us. "There's no one here but me, she's fine. Stop yelling at her so much."

With that, I continue to dart away, scurrying to my room to make sure my dress is put up. I push my door open, my eyes scanning my room. My bed is littered with shopping bags, one of them being the long flowing bag holding my dress.

"Princess?" Itachi calls from down the hallway, his footsteps mixing with the sound of his voice.

     "Wait a second!" I yelp, snatching the bag off my bed before tucking it away in my closet.

     Just as I'm shutting the closet doors, Onii-Chan pops into my room, a soft smile on his face for the first time today. "You know, it's not the end all if I see your dress," he murmurs, taking slow steps toward me. When he gets a step away, his hand settles on my waist, clinging to it and using his grip to tug me closer. "You're beautiful, Princess."

"Thank you," I murmur, my arms settling around his shoulders.

My back arches as he continues to pull me closer, pressing me against himself. "You're my everything," Itachi continues to mumbles, lips brushing against the side of my face. His touch almost hurts from how hard his fingertips grip my waist, making sure our body heat keeps mixing. "My favorite, pretty, little birthright," he adds, his light kisses slowly brushing a path toward my lips.

"I know, Onii-Chan."

"Good girl," he whispers, his nose gently sliding against my skin as his lips hover over mine. Warmth starts coating my face as I look up at him. Itachi's eyes are hooded as they stare down at me, dark with anger still, yet they're burning with admiration. His lips are slightly parted too, tying the whole heated moment together.

     It feels like I'm burning up, my body - and pussy, alike - tingling with the want for him. I've craved him all day, and from the look of it, Onii-Chan has been suffering from the same craving. Just as his head is tipping down, about to give me what I'm quivering for, my bedroom door slams open. 

     "What are you two doing?" Sasuke asks, pulling a deep sigh from Itachi.

     A disappointed whine is yanked from my lungs, displeased by him pulling away from me. His fingers squeeze my side but besides that, he doesn't acknowledge my small tantrum. "Why are you interrupting us?" Onii-Chan asks, glaring at our younger brother.

"Because I got beat this morning all because you got off. I'm not taking the fall again, by the way," Sasuke grumbles, mirroring the glare being shot at him.

I let my hands fall, clinging to Itachi's shirt again as I peek over his shoulder. Sasuke - and Daddy - aren't kidding; he sure did receive a beating. Small purple bruises wrap around his eye, marking the place our Father hit him. His cheek is bruised too, matching the injuries surrounding his eye. A small notch is settled on his bottom lip; bruised and busted like the rest of him.

Itachi's jaw clicks as he looks over our little brother with me, the leftovers of the beating adding fuel to the fire of hatred he has for Daddy. "I told you not to touch her," he grumbles, looping his arm around my back, keeping me tucked close to himself. "If you hadn't been on top of - "

"I could have been in my room and Dad would have still blamed me before he blamed you. Itachi, Dad's picture-perfect son," Sasuke groans, rolling his eyes at the lecture he is receiving.

"Go away," Onii-Chan grumbles, his fingertips dipping between my waistband and my back, slowly rubbing back and forth over the material.

"You owe me."

"I don't owe you anything," Itachi murmurs, tipping his head down to brush his lips against mine.

I happily accept the kiss, the gentleness of it only adding to my clinginess. I want more of him, I need more of him. My hands tighten on his shirt, trying to keep him rooted in our kiss, but it doesn't work. He pulls away again, his fingertips looping around to toy with the button of my shorts.

"I'll tell Dad when you got home you didn't realize I was here and that you spent all evening making Princess beg and scream."

"Dad won't believe you," Itachi snaps, his head jerking toward a very smug-looking Sasuke.

"Yes, he will. When he got home, Kenzo told me to steer clear because something happened with Princess so Dad and you will be at each other's throats. You know just as well as me he's just waiting for you to mess up."

Onii-Chan's jaw clicks on repeat as he rolls over the threat, his hand tightening on my shorts and tugging on them to pull me closer. "What might you want if I so chose to entertain this empty attempt at threatening me?"

"I want Princess to suck my dick - "

"No." The room starts to heat, Sasuke's amusement and Itachi's anger mixing to make the aura of the room. "Mom spent all night with you. I doubt you have anything left," he adds, shifting forward so I'm trapped between my closet and his frame.

Sasuke shrugs, eyes flaming with mischief and cockiness as he stares at me. "I want my dick down Princess's throat like you've done. Though, I could always lie and tell Dad you tainted his precious Princess. I can only imagine the beat you'd get for stealing her virginity before becoming the next Chief."

"No. If you want your dick sucked why don't you run along and see that pink-haired girl of yours?"

"Because I shouldn't have to run off," Sasuke complains, rolling his eyes again. "Why do you get to have a personal cock warmer and I don't? It's not fair. You get everything. You get the clan, Dad's favoritism even though you hate each other, and Mom made you a personal pocket pussy. I don't get one, let alone get to enjoy yours, how's that fair?"

Onii-Chan is simmering, his mood more annoyed than angry at this point. "Do you do anything besides complain?"

     "I would be patrolling but until this," Sasuke motions toward his face, more specifically his bruises, "heals up, Dad has me on temporary leave. Which, again, is your fault."

     "Fine," Itachi sighs, loosening his hold before dropping the total of it away. "Princess can suck you off, but that's it," he hisses the last part, watchful eyes carefully monitoring Sasuke's slow but eager walk over to us.

"Ya, ya, ya, blowjob and that's it, got it," my younger brother mumbles, quickly shouldering Onii-Chan out of the way before placing his hands on me. Sasuke cups my breasts, squeezing them with slightly more confidence than last night, and instantly throwing away the agreement they have over me. "They're not as full as Mom's," he mumbles, toying with them a second longer before his hands jump to my shoulders.

"Of course, they're not as full as Mom's," Itachi hisses, his annoyance slowly trickling back into anger. "Princess doesn't have three kids like Mom. They'll grow when she becomes pregnant with our first child."

     "Whatever," Sasuke mutters under his breath, pushing on my shoulders to try and get me on my knees. My eyes flicker toward Onii-Chan, double-checking just to be sure he's okay with the situation. His head nods, barely, but it does, sending me his okay. "Glorified lap dog," our younger brother complains, annoyance soaking in the roll of his eyes.

     "Sasuke - " Itachi starts, his tone warning.

     "No, she heard you say yes and she's still looking over at her master for permission. I can't wait until you knock her up. You better give her a girl so I can have my wife already," he continues to complain, his hands busy undoing his pants and pulling his dick out.

     "You'll be in your late thirties by the time our daughter would be old enough to wed. If we even have a daughter. Besides, who says I'll approve of you marrying our daughter?"

     Sasuke's hand balls up my hair, using it to pull me forward. My lips part when they get close to his dick, preparing to take him down my throat. The whole time my eyes stay locked on Itachi who's staring right back at me.

     "Thirty-six and twenty isn't a terrible age difference," my younger brother murmurs, his eyes flickering between the two of us. "Besides, as your brother I have the right to your daughter's hand in marriage after any sons you have. I'll just encourage you to keep breeding Princess until she gives me a wife."

     "That would greaten the age gap," Itachi grumbles, his eyes widening just a tad as Sasuke starts sinking into my mouth. His tense, his muscles only growing more intense as my throat is filled inch by inch.

     "Dad is twenty-seven years older than Princess and I'm sure he sticks his dick down her throat. Dad and Mom have a fifteen-year gap. It'll be fine," Sasuke rattles as he continually pulls on my hair, only stopping when my nose is pressed against his stomach. His eyes grow too, but for a reason completely different than Onii-Chan.

     My throat spasms around Sasuke's cock, trying to force it back out as my body confuses the deep throating for choking. A long, soft hiss slides between his teeth, my brother enjoying the involuntary movements of my muscles and the growing sound of me choking on him.

     "I don't want to think about Dad's dick down Princess's throat," Itachi hisses, his eyes tearing away from me to glare at our brother. "You're going to make her sick keeping your dick down her throat so long."

     Sasuke rolls his eyes at Onii-Chan's overbearing behavior but does pull on my hair again, yanking me backward. "Can't even let go long enough for me to get sucked off," he murmurs under his breath, jerking his hips to shove his cock back down my throat. "Suck, pocket pussy."

     "Watch it," Itachi hisses before his head slowly turns back toward me, nodding to allow me to do as asked. I obey both my brothers, sucking on Sasuke's dick as he works it in and out of my mouth, thrusting deep enough each time that my nose grazes his skin.

     "Aww, poor Princess. Do you need Itachi to fight all your bullies for you? Of course you do, because all you are is a dumb breeding dog," Sasuke continues to degrade, his thrusts picking up with every syllable of the insult that slides out. "The only reason you were made was to continue on the family line. All Itachi is going to use you for is to fill your cunt over and over again like the pathetic lap dog you are. Everyone in the village is going to know the only thing you're good at is spreading your legs because of how often you're going to be knocked up."

     Tears spill down my face, caused by both the insults and the lack of being able to breathe. It's a struggle to continue sucking on him as he shoves his penis down my throat, his movements so rough I'm worried he's going to snap a bone. Daddy and Onii-Chan have never been this rough with me so I'm not sure what to do. My lungs are screaming 'bite him' but my mind is screaming 'suck hard so he finishes sooner'.

     "Sasuke," Itachi says, his voice even and chilled as his eyes bear on me. "You're making Princess cry. I recommend you calm down and slow down before I snap your neck."

     Our younger brother grumbles more about unfairness as he obeys Onii-Chan. Sasuke's thrusts slow down but remain deep enough that I'm sure there's going to be an imprint of my nose on his stomach by the time he's done. "Crybaby," he grumbles, the insult covering up a moan trying to escape his chest. "I take it back, you're good at two things. Being bred and crying. All you do is spill those crocodile tears and get whatever you want handed to you. You can't handle me fucking your over-used mouth so you cry. You cry so Itachi will make it stop. Pathetic."

     "Sasuke," Onii-Chan hissed again, taking a step forward to rip our brother away from me if he acts up again.

     "Sasuke," he echoes, pitching his voice to further mock Itachi. "She is pathetic and you know it. She has two jobs, take our cum, and get knocked up so the clan continues to have faith in the future. What use is a dog that can't do its job? You're a useless dog." By the end of the degrading his teeth are bared, his voice coming out hissy because of it.

     A groan escaped past Sasuke's teeth, his hips jerking to roughly shove his cock as far down my throat as he can. Within moments the growing familiarity of a man's semen is spilling out, dropping directly down to my stomach.

     "Her job is to take my cum, not yours," Itachi corrects, his anger bubbling in his words. "You should feel grateful that I'm sharing her. That I'm letting you taint her."

     Sasuke ignores our older brother, his eyes locked on me and his lips slightly parted as he spills out down my throat, enjoying the feeling of me gulping down his cum. When he's done, he thrusts a few more times, barely pulling an inch out before he's shoved fully in my mouth again. Having him forcing me to deep throat as a means to clean himself is somehow more degrading than his words.

     "She's already tainted and you know that," he finally answers back, slowly pulling his deflating cock out of my mouth. With my mouth newly free, it stays open wide, panting to catch my breath. "Dad messes with her all the time. I doubt there's a spot on Princess that Dad hasn't rubbed against or came on. Besides, after today all she is to Kenzo is someone to try and fuck behind Dad's back. I guess the three of us have a lot in common."

     "How do you know about that?" Itachi asks, rushing - and failing to conceal it - down to his knees to attend to me. His hand is on my throat, gently massaging it as he pets my hair, smoothing it out.

     "Kenzo was bragging about it when two of the council members showed up to meet with Dad about Princess's assault. Dad was in his office looking for something as they stayed by the door so he didn't hear it."

     "You know about that too?"

     "Ya."

     The room falls silent, Itachi continuing to massage my neck and wipe the saliva off my face. Sasuke tucks himself away, the lust in his eyes quickly burning away because of the conversation. Still, both my brothers' attentions stay on me, making sure I'm okay even if one brother shows it more.

     "Concerning - "

     "If Dad is taking care of the assaulter we'll leave it be. If too much time passes we'll discuss it. As for Kenzo, I don't want to speak about it in front of our Princess," Itachi interrupts, his focus on kissing my throat now instead of rubbing it. Sasuke nods in agreement, eyes stuck on me for a moment before he starts to walk away.

     "Onii-Chan?" I whisper, trying not to choke on the hatred wrapped around him.

     "My precious Princess?" He coos, softly sucking on a patch of skin stretched over my throat.

     "What are you thinking about?"

     "How I'm going to erase Sasuke's touch on you. How I'm going to remind you that you're my birthright and not his. How I'm going to pay Dad back for his mess-ups today. How I'm going to kill Kenzo and possibly your assaulter. How much time I have until our parents get back and whether it's enough time to fuck you."

     "What?"

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[anki-of-beleriand]

Bad Liar ch. 5

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - past Shuri/Female!reader

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - unrequited love - gay panic - fools in love - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: I'm back! Yes! I know it has been quite a while, life has been hard if I'm honest with you and these moments of peace had been sporacdic. Hope you like this new chapter.

This time around something happened that made R and Wanda come closer, yet far enough for them to deny whatever they want.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging the story guys! Remember that English is not my mother tongue, so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 5

Falling

Her life had been predetermined by her father the moment she had been born.

For as long as she could remember, Wanda had always been told what to do, how to act, what was expected of her. Even though her mother helped her get an education, as well as get into a career, her father had always made sure Wanda was straight as an arrow, always leading her to a ‘good man that could control and protect her’.

She found herself being introduced to Jarvis at some point, the son of one of her father’s business partners, and a classmate of hers all through the secondary, it had been decided that he would be her husband. Wanda sighed watching the picture she kept on her photo album, in there was Pietro always smiling and happy with his arm around her shoulders while Jarvis stood to her left with a possessive hold on her waist.

Pietro had never liked Jarvis, but it wasn’t his decision.

Thunder broke into the night, Wanda jumped startled watching outside the window while her eyes drifted momentarily to the stairs. She strained her ear trying to hear if the twins had woken up, but the silence of the house was only broken by the rain and the wind right outside. Wanda sat in silence and a half-lit room, the memories of her past coming over with overwhelming emotions that threatened to break her over once more.

She held onto her own strength, the smile of her children and the words of Hope and Natasha while the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“This is a long road, Wanda. You are not expected to heal overnight, but you do need to start somewhere.”

And that was precisely what she was doing, choosing the memories she wanted to keep and letting go of those she didn’t want to remember. The pictures in her photo album had change drastically the moment Jarvis showed up in her life. Soon the pictures of Pietro, her mother, and her friends disappeared, giving way to pictures of Jarvis filling up her youth invading her life in ways she never noticed until now.

She didn’t even have enough pictures of her and the twins, most of the pictures included Jarvis one way or another holding them, grabbing them, possessing them. Wanda closed the photo album feeling suddenly emotionally tired, her life had changed drastically ever since she ran from Jarvis and started working on her, her children, her career.

“One step at a time, Wanda. You just must give yourself some credit, you are doing fantastic and as long as you remember why you are doing this you will be okay.”

And Wanda knew why she was doing it.

She still had the scars, and the police report as well as the medical records of herself and Tommy. The bright, blueish light of lightning breaking into the night startled her again, this time around she redirected her eyes to the window and waited for the sound of thunder breaking into the night.

The lights in the house flickered and soon the hole house went black. Wanda stood up, her eyes going big as she heard the sudden cries coming from the twin’s room. In less than a minute she had run up the stairs entering their room, the light from the mobile helping her move through the house and the darkened room.

She was familiar with the scene welcoming her the moment she crossed the threshold of the twin’s room. Billy was holding onto Tommy, both boys had their eyes wide open though Tommy was looking drowsy and flustered while Billy was completely awake and disheveled holding onto his brother as he used to whenever they heard the screams of fighting and hitting in their parents’ room.

“Hey, guys, it’s okay, mommy is here.” Wanda approached the bed wrapping her arms around them, kissing their foreheads with a concerned frown. “It’s just rain, it will pass.”

Billy merely nodded but Tommy went from his brother to his mother, and it was then that Wanda noticed the shivering figure of Tommy, his labored breathing and the glassy eyes. Billy shot his brother a worried glance before turning his attention to his mother.

“Momma, I don’t feel good.” Tommy whispered snuggling closer to Wanda, the young woman placed her hand on the boy’s forehead feeling the warm emanating from his skin.

Panic rose inside Wanda’s mind, Tommy was burning and he wasn’t looking so good. She lifted her eyes and Billy was glancing at her with a frown adorning his face.

“Mommy?”

“Don’t worry, boys, mommy is here, okay?” Wanda cooed Tommy while trying to give Billy a reassuring smile.

Tommy closed his eyes whimpering lightly, while Billy chewed on his lower lip.

“Is Tommy okay?” He asked in a small voice, Wanda fixed the younger of the twins on the bed while helping Billy down and directing him to his own bed.

“He is baby, but he needs some space and medicine, right now he seems to have a fever and mommy needs to make sure he is okay.” Wanda explained pocking Billy on the nose, the young boy offered a weak smile, but his eyes went from Wanda and Tommy constantly.

“I’m going to grab something really quick from the bathroom, can you watch over him without going to close to Tommy?” Wanda inquired knowing the request was hard for the young boy, they had always been together through the fighting, through the punishment and even in sickness.

But Wanda didn’t have the luxury of having any help, and risking both twins to get sick was something she couldn’t afford emotionally and physically. Wanda brushed Billy’s hair placing a single kiss on his forehead. Billy scrunched up his nose, pursing his lips at the last request.

“Tommy needs me.” He mumbled crossing his arms.

“I know it’s hard, Billy, but mommy doesn’t want you catching whatever it is Tommy has.” She tried to explain to the upset kid. “Mommy needs you to be strong and help her out, can you do that for me?”

Billy pouted looking away while nodding his head curtly, Wanda hesitated for a moment before standing up, her eyes went to Tommy then back to Billy who was still looking away from her. With a heavy heart, the young woman made her way to the bathroom to look for something that might help Tommy.

In the darkened bathroom, Wanda soon realized she had never bother to buy any medicine or any kind of implements that might help in a situation such as this. She had gauze, alcohol, bandages, cotton balls, and a digital thermometer. She tried to look at her reflection, the tears she didn’t know she was shedding rolling down her cheeks while her heart beat hard against her ribcage. None of this, but the thermometer, would help her with Tommy, would her?

With trembling hands, Wanda grabbed the thermometer and some cotton balls, she let her hands wander inside the cabinet until she found a small cup. Making sure the water was not too cold, she wiped away her tears and putting on a strong façade grabbed everything and went back to the twin’s room.

The storm ranging right outside the house became almost unbearable, thunder and lightning filled out the emptiness inside her home and by the time she was helping Tommy out, Billy was holding onto his pillow watching wide-eyed as Tommy whimpered and complain while putting his blankets away.

The lights had not come out yet, and Wanda had a feeling that this might take some time because of the storm. She went right into action making sure Tommy had the thermometer while putting the cotton balls and the cup of water on the bedside table.

Billy watched from afar as Wanda fussed over Tommy while his brother cried softly, and tried to get away from her touch while still couching and sneezing, his hands grabbing his chest or head from time to time. The young boy had always been there ready to protect his brother, and he hated it when he knew there was nothing he could do.

His young eyes went from his brother to his mom, she was crying and Billy felt his eyes well up at the sight. For a brief moment, he turned his attention to the door almost expecting his dad to come over screaming enraged before hitting mommy and Tommy.

But it never happened, and relief washed over the young man that still felt anguish at the sight of his family suffering over without anything he could do. Billy glanced at the phone, then back at his mom and Tommy, he lifted his hand and wiped away his tears with his pajamas. The phone he had been holding for quite a while vibrated in his hand, Billy frowned glancing at the phone while tilting his head.

“Mommy.” He mumbled standing up, he made his way to Wanda holding onto the phone.

Wanda lifted her head, she tried to smile and Billy could see she was not doing okay.

“Tell me, sweetie.”

“Can you call a doctor?” Billy offered the phone to his mother, he could no longer hide the tears on his face and Wanda broke just a little at how mature he usually behaved at his age.

Wanda grabbed the phone putting him closer to her, her arms wrapped comfortingly around him before placing a kiss on his head. She thought about the proposal, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it, but the rain outside and the lower temperatures could only be worse for the boy burning in fever at the moment. There was a moment of hesitation on Wanda’s part, she glanced at Tommy then at Billy before placing her eyes on the phone.

But before she could do anything, Tommy sat up moaning, grabbing his stomach.

“Mommy I don’t feel good…” And with those words, he leaned in and started throwing up.

Billy stepped back watching horrified as Tommy empty the contents of his stomach on the bed and the floor, and soon Wanda sprang into action taking the young boy to the bathroom, running and sharing comforting words to a now crying Tommy.

The mobile had fallen to the floor, and Billy grabbed the gadget in his hands hugging it closer to his chest not knowing what to do and how to help his mom and brother. It took him a moment, tears falling down his face, and he just checked the phone finding the only familiar name that could help him and his mommy in a moment like that one.

With a blurry eyesight, he pressed the dial button and finally started sobbing when he heard the familiar voice through the phone.

____________________________________________________________

There was not a single light on the streets.

The wind and water twirled in front of the windows, the bluish light of thunder breaking into the darkness from time to time, and the rumbling from thunder making the glass trembled echoing the strength of the storm.

You sipped some hot chocolate from your favorite mug, sitting down in the kitchen your mind played out the recent events that had shaken your life in ways you never thought possible. More than a week had passed since the school event in which you got a chance to see a side of your neighborhood you were not familiar with and finding her in the practice of your best friend.

Since then, your encounters with her have been sporadic. But each and every single one of them had the spark of teasing you had come accustomed to. It had become a habit to just bother her and rail her up, to watch her reaction to your piercing words and your constant teasing while getting some reaction out of her. To see her eyes going wide, and flashing that glare you had come to appreciate, or her retorts that were a defiance of your intelligence and your personality. A part of you knew the game you were playing was a dangerous one, another part didn’t even care.

That was, until your mind reminded you of one Carol Danvers that had been at your doorstep from the moment you decided to go back to the world.

The blonde woman had been there as a support, and also as someone that helped you escaped from the pain and the reality you were made to face. So much different than Shuri, Carol had always understood your priorities, and while at the beginning the both of you had agreed on sex with no strings attached, Carol had made it quite evident she was ready for more, and pretty much intended to wait for you to be ready as well.

Another thunder broke into the night.

You lifted your eyes wondering if perhaps letting Carol meet America had been the wisest thing to do, the both of them had hit it off right off the bat, and you knew that Carol had been more than happy about the meeting. She saw that as a step in the right direction, one of the steps to get you closer into a relationship you were still not so sure you wanted.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” The voice of America startled you awake from your daze, turning around you saw her completely dressed wearing a heavy jacket and boots as if she was ready to go out.

“What are you doing dressed like that?” You asked back raising a single eyebrow, the young woman came closer to you tilting her head with narrowed eyes.

“I’m going out.”

You snorted shaking your head, “you’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go out with this weather. Anyway, why the hell would you go out? This has something to do with Kate?”

America opened her eyes wide, blushing lightly while crossing her arms.

“Not everything that happens to me has to do with Kate.” She huffed indignantly, though you had to smirk at her reaction.

“As of late, everything has to do with her…” You replied teasingly. “You two should stop playing around and get together already.”

“Oh, shut up! You are one to talk, you and Carol had been playing the friends with benefits for far too long, you should give in already.” She retorted shooting you a defiant glance, you winced looking away while lifting your mug.

“Touché. I won’t say anything about Kate and you from now on.”

“Thank you.” America turned around but stopped when you placed a hand on her shoulder, your brows lifted in wonderment.

“Still, you’re not going out, though.”

America made a face lifting her phone while trying to come up with the best explanation.

“Look, Billy Maximoff just called me.” She started explaining, and as soon as that name came out you perked up. “He was really distressed, crying and asking for me to help him, something happened to Tommy and…”

“Well, where is his mom? Or his dad for that matter?”

It wasn’t so much the question, but the tone of voice you used to ask. Your voice broke a little, and your tone rose an octave making you clear your throat and look away from the scrutinizing gaze of your sister. America narrowed her eyes at you, tilting her head.

“There is no dad, and it seems as if Mrs. Maximoff needs help.” America trailed off before grabbing your hand. “Come with me, please, I think they really need help and I hated to think Billy is crying while Tommy and Mrs. Maximoff are…I don’t know…”

You made a face letting go of America while scratching the nape of your neck, your heart jumped in your chest while a tingling started in your abdomen at the thought of seeing Wanda Maximoff. It was strange, and unwanted, you shouldn’t feel anxious to see that insufferable woman, yet…

“What if Tommy is sick, Y/N? I know you can help them.” America pressed grabbing your hand. “Please, come with me and if it is something dumb, you can lash out at Mrs. Maximoff, I know it had become your favorite pastime as of late.”

“That’s not true!” You replied slightly offended. “She is the one lashing out at me!”

“Oh, please if I didn’t know better, I would say you like her!” America replied turning just on time to miss the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So, can you come with me?” This time around she used her most powerful weapon against you, and her puppy eyes with that familiar pout broke your resolution.

Rolling your eyes you nod, “okay, okay, I’m coming with you, let me grab something, I don’t want to catch a pneumonia just so you can go and help Maximoff’s brats.”

America smirked watching as you went running to your room, she knew even if your words seemed uncaring that you were hooked when she said the kids might be sick. America knew for you it was hard to not care, but sometimes it was harder to care.

*************

Your eyes soon found those of the small boy standing by the door with a blue blanket tightly pressed against his chest, he had tears in his eyes with his hair completely disheveled and a spark of mistrusted sent your way. America knelt down as soon as he opened the door, her face breaking into one of pure tenderness while she spoke to the boy in a soft reassuring tone.

“Hey, Billy, how are you buddy?”

“Tommy is sick.” He mumbled and was about to hug your sister when you stopped him from going any further.

His glare made you think of his mother, and you had to refrain yourself from snorting at the likeness between both of them.

“We are drench, kid, so hugging America is not a good idea.” The glare didn’t lose its intensity, but the boy pursed his lips and stepped away from your grasp.

America rolled her eyes at you, closing the door behind her and taking the jacket off of her. You followed her swiftly, while also taking off your boots and standing inside the house that had been Natasha’s at some point.

The place had changed ever since, though you could see the new inhabitants of the household decided to keep some of the furniture. You frowned stepping inside the place noticing there was no one but the kid on the first floor, turning around you could see America talking to the boy, this time around she wrapped her arms around him helping him up and walking towards you with Billy snuggling closer to her.

“Tommy is sick, and he and his mom are upstairs.” She commented, her lips broke into a sad smile. “He didn’t know what to do, but he thought if I was here his mom could take Tommy to the doctor.”

“You are quite the smart guy, Billy.” Your commented made Billy turned his attention to you, though his eyes had not softened he was now shooting curious glances at you. “However, with this rain, the best would be for Tommy and your mom to stay here…”

This time around you could see the crestfallen expression on the boy’s face, his eyes welled up again and your heart broke at the sight. You leaned in, winking at him reassuringly.

“But you and your family are lucky that I know a thing or two about being a doctor and may be able to help, would you like that?”

America watched as the boy tensed in her arms, his eyes opened lightly, and he glanced at you for the very first time with wonderment, and some hesitation.

“Really?” he turned to America to corroborate your words, and the young woman smiled at him.

“Yes, Billy, this is my sister Y/N.” She said, looking at you then back at the boy. “And she learnt a thing or two about children and how to take care of them.”

Billy pursed his lips glancing at you with a tilt of his head, “really? You help Tommy?”

“Really, I can help Tommy and your mommy as well.” You looked around the place before settling your eyes on America. “Why don’t you grabbed one of the torches you brough and I will go upstairs to see what’s going on.”

“Sure.” America turned to Billy pocking him on the nose. “Want some chocolate while we make sure Tommy gets better?”

You watched as both of them go to America’s jacket, and handing over the torch to Billy they made their way to the kitchen. With a sigh, you placed a hand on your head before turning your stare to the stairs; the place was completely silent, and you had to glance around while straining your ear to catch some noise. Without missing a beat, you walked down the hall until you found yourself in front of a door decorated with dinosaurs and the names of the twins in blue and red.

The room smelt like vomit, and it felt suffocating.

On the bed was a small boy whimpering, and leaning in was the young woman you had come to know as Wanda. There was a moment of hesitation before you knock on the open door, the sudden sound made Wanda jerked around her eyes wide open as they settled on you.

“Wha-what are you…who…?”

The young woman was looking terrible.

Her hair was out of place, and she had been wearing some sweatpants and a shirt that had strains of vomit all over them. The sight itself was quite incredible, you had seen the fire behind those green eyes, the power behind the woman’s words as well as her determination whenever you engaged her in a bickering contest. But the woman standing before you was lost, it was someone that didn’t know what to do or how to react, that was completely out of her element while holding onto a piece of sanity she clearly didn’t have.

It made you think of that time she had frozen in fear during the school’s event.

“You got any coherent thought behind those questions? Or do I have to guess what are you trying to ask?” Your lips curled into a smirk, the glint of anger flashing towards you as the woman strides to you her index finger lift poking on your chest, with her nostrils flaring.

“What the hell are you doing here?” There was desperation in her voice, and you had to wonder where the father of the kids was, where was her husband.

Was she alone in all of this?

“Your kid called, and America dragged me over to help.”

She blinked a couple of times, your words registering in her head while her brows knitted together. Her eyes locking with yours before she opened them in realization.

“Billy.”

“Yes.”

“America? Why…?” Now she looked even more confused than before, you shrugged suddenly very aware of the closeness of the woman and the foolishness of the situation.

“She is my sister, and your kid call her over to see if she could help you.” You shrugged trying to look uninterested in the whole situation. “You had a smart kid, Princess. Now, let me help you with your other kid.”

You stepped aside, and walked past Wanda who was struck by the door still registering your words. You looked around the place before kneeling down right beside the bed of Tommy. You placed your hand on his forehead, he was burning and your touch made him shiver telling you his skin was sensitive to the touch. It was quite evident he had thrown up, and his paleness confused itself with the flush of the fever. Your eyes moved to the thermometer then to the mess around you.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked in a thin voice, your eyes were flashing angrily at her just as you stood up.

“Me? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked through gritted teeth. “He is burning up! What had you given to him? Do you know if he eaten something that upset his stomach? How long has he been like this?”

And just as you said this you stepped closer to her, the anger in you came by the sight of the state the room was in and by the obvious discomfort the boy was in. It was incredible to you that a mother could be this disinterested in their child. If your stepmother had been alive her first instinct would have been to take you or America straight to the hospital, bad weather or not, and your dad…

The anger running through your veins cooled down the moment your eyes fell upon the cowering form of Wanda. The young woman winced when you spoke to her, her body tensing and coiling in on itself, while she pressed her hands tightly to her chest. Her eyes clenched close, paled with a quivering lower lip, she was mumbling something you had not bothered to hear up until now.

“I just…I didn’t…I don’t have because I…” Wanda had been ready to answer your reproaches with the same annoying tone she used to address you until something in her triggered the memories she thought she had overcome. She was useless, a bad mother, she deserved punishment. She deserved her fate.

“I don’t know! I’m sorry, I…I failed, I failed, I’m a bad mother…”

You never expected her to break down the way she was doing, something in your chest stirred with sympathy and guiltiness at having been so hasty in your reaction. There was a moment of hesitation that was broken the moment the woman felt to her knees, this time around her arms above her head as if protecting herself from an invisible attack. You clenched your jaw, your eyes burning with horror at the thought that this was perhaps what Wanda was waiting from you.

You could hear her whimpers, turning around you could see Tommy crawling his legs closer to his body, he had been awake during the scene trembling on his bed with his lips turned downwards. You brushed your hair away before stepping closer to Wanda, kneeling down slowly but surely, your hand placed itself on her shoulder. Whatever story was behind her reaction, you decided right there and there, you would make things easier for her.

“Hey, Wanda, I’m sorry.” You whispered softly, comfortingly. “It was not my place, you are a good mother, you did the right thing, I just…I want to help…”

“Hey, Wanda, sorry I just…look, I came here to help. So…”

“Why? So you can humiliate me? Tell me…making me feel as If…” Wanda exploded pushing your hands away, her eyes filled with tears just as she glared at you. “I’m doing my best I just…”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You whispered, wincing at her words. “I was unfair, I…I just…I don’t like seeing little kids suffering, okay? And, Tommy, he really needs a doctor. Let me make it up to you, let me help you.”

“What? You are a doctor or something like that?” Wanda bit back, her glare never missing the intensity.

“Something like that.” You replied offering a half smile, Wanda furrowed her brows the situation draining her of any will or energy to fight over. “Let’s start by getting him really clean up, do you have anything we can give him?”

“What do you mean?” She asked in a small voice.

“Antibiotics, aspirin…something?” Wanda shook her head and you nodded curtly.

“Okay, that’s fine. You and him, you need a shower…”

“But…but he is sick, and his fever…”

“Needs to be controlled before it gets out of hand.” You replied helping the young woman stand up, you cocked your head, so your eyes fell upon the boy that was glancing at the both of you. “Let’s take him to the bathroom, I have some torches that may help you, but you need to give him a bath and help with his fever.”

Wanda nodded weakly making her way to the bed, Tommy was shivering with his lips parted. You leaned in, observing the rhythm of his breathing and the sweat on his face.

“Mommy?” He asked in a weak voice, Wanda cleared his face never missing the concern marks on her face.

“Is he…” Wanda started but soon trailed off.

“He is gonna be okay.” You smiled at her, standing up you placed a hand on her forearm. “Don’t worry, kid, everything is gonna be fine, can you tell me where it hurts the most?”

Tommy pouted hesitating before placing his hand on his head, you pursed your lips nodding. Wanda observed as you knelt down with your eyes scanning the small form of the boy.

“Does your tummy hurt still?”

“No.” Tommy put his legs closer to his chest, your eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Tommy, did you feel bad today at school?”

Tommy hesitated before nodding, “I didn’t want Billy worried because he was playing with Bard, and I’m always complaining.”

The boy explained in a thin voice, Wanda pressed her lips holding back her own tears. You offered the boy a smirk, shaking your head.

“I bet Bard was being a little brat about it, wasn’t he?”

Tommy opened his eyes before nodding, this time around he smiled.

“Yeah, the men in that family can be little brats.” You said winking at Tommy. “But they are good people, you don’t have to hide, Tommy, more so if you don’t feel okay.”

“I’m s’orry.” He lowered his gaze, “I don’t wanna be weak, daddy don’t like it when I complain.”

You decided to not comment on that, and you even ignored the sudden shift on Wanda’s posture, and the gasp she let out at Tommy’s words.

“Hey! Not feeling well is not about complaining, it’s about being brave enough to admit you need help.” You replied by pocking his nose. “Now, I need to help you and your mom with your fever, okay?”

Tommy nodded putting a thumb on his mouth, you stood up looking around the room before settling your eyes on Wanda. In a sudden movement, you went to pick up Tommy in your arms, the little boy snuggling closer to you.

“He does need to take a bath, and it’s going to be a little uncomfortable for him because the water must be lukewarm.” You stated firmly, Wanda shifted her position taking a good look at you. “Can you show me the bathroom?”

The bathroom was huge.

With a big bathtub at the far corner, you realized that with more light the situation would be easier for everyone. However, the place was big enough to make it work for the mother and the child, you placed Tommy on a small chair near the toilet.

“Okay young man, I need your help right now, think you can do it?”

Tommy opened his eyes wide, nodding while glancing at you then back at Wanda.

“Okay, I’m gonna bring some flashlights and you and your mom are going to take a bath.” You explained to him standing up while turning on the light on your mobile. Wanda had been silent up until then, she had been following your every move, hearing every single word you spoke to her and Tommy, and something inside her stirred grateful by your actions.

You glanced around the place helped with your mobile trying to locate the cabinet in which you might be able to locate some medication. Your eyes narrowed when the only thing you spot were gauzes, bandages, alcohol, and things that might help someone after a fall. Not in a situation like the one they were in at the moment. You turned to Wanda, but the young woman was making her best effort to look away from you.

“I’m going to get the bathtub ready, and you and Tommy can take a bath, so the both of you stop stinking.” You made a face winking at Tommy who giggled placing a hand on his mouth.

“I’m not…” Wanda started but soon trailed off when she heard Tommy’s giggle.

“You are.” You replied walking past her towards the tub. “And Tommy is too, right?”

Tommy hesitated before nodding, “I stink. I felt bad in my tummy and throw up.”

You made a face making sure the war was the right temperature, “that and you have a fever, Tommy. I will need some basic medication for you, but the water will help with the temperature, okay?”

“But, with his fever…” Wanda started, you stood up shaking your head.

“It will make him feel better, believe me.” You offered a kind smile and Tommy was already feeling ready to take the bath. “Let me go for the torches, and then I will bring some medication I have at home that may help with his symptoms.”

Wanda stood there nodding numbly, you hesitated for a moment before grabbing her hand, the tender touch jerked her awake and her eyes found yours in the dark.

“It’s gonna be okay, Wanda, trust me.” You whispered, and the young woman felt her stomach tingle at the closeness, her heart shivering at your words.

“I do.”

You nodded curtly running down the stairs and grabbing two torches from your jacket and that of America, your sister watched you with curiosity, but you paid her no mind and went back to the second floor. Fixing the flashlights on two strategic points in the bathroom, it took but a moment, but soon your eyes found the naked back of the boy and your whole body tensed, while your jaw clenched closed again, this time around the anger bubbling in your chest was like a time bomb ready to explode.

On his back, there were multiple scars, some of them looked fresh, some others were old enough to know he had been hurt several times in the past. Then, as soon as you saw this, your eyes drifted away to the young woman whose hands were tenderly taking the clothes off and helping Tommy into the bathtub. The way she moved, the way she worried about her children…

“It’s cold, mommy.” Tommy whimpered fighting a little, Wanda cooed the little boy trying to calm him down.

“I know baby, but really is not that cold, is just…it feels like that because you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m going to leave this here and you two can take as long as you want.” You commented furrowing your brows, your mind already working on trying to get the truth about Wanda from Natasha. “I will leave my phone here, if you want to put on Disney or Netflix for him.”

Wanda turned to you, her face breaking into one relief and grateful expression.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Princess.” You winked at her, placing a hand on your eyes. “Tommy you are in charge of the phone and the movie, make sure your mom doesn’t put a boring movie.”

“Yeah.”

Wanda chuckled leaving Tommy for a moment to grab your mobile, her eyes soon found yours and her cheeks burn a little at the sudden warmness she felt near you. She grabbed the phone and you and her turned around at the same time, you closed the door behind you, confusion filling up your mind.

****************

“How is Tommy?” America asked as soon as you entered the kitchen, you glanced around the place before spotting the door leading to the basement, in your arms you were carrying the bed sheets and the pyjama.

“He is burning in fever, Wanda is bathing him, and probably will take a shower afterwards.” You turned to America pointing to the basement door. “I need wash this, but right now that room is a mess, can you help me cleaning it up and putting some fresh sheets on the bed?”

“Can I help?” Billy asked in a small voice rubbing his eyes, you offered him a small smile nodding.

“That would be fantastic, Billy, Tommy needs clean sheets to feel better, and your room smells yucky so let’s make sure he comes back to a clean room, okay?”

Billy perked up at this, he nodded eagerly smiling a little, “yeah, I help, come America.”

He grabbed your sister’s hand dragging her back to the stairs, you shook your head opening the basement door going downstairs to put everything in the washing machine.

By the time dawn came, the rain had stopped and Billy, Tommy and America were fast asleep in the twins room.

The lights had not come out yet, and you had a feeling it would take some time for the electricity to be restored again. The living room was early quiet, and Wanda was sitting on the sofa with a warm mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She had bags under her eyes, her hair was still wet but her clothes had changed into another part of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt.

Tommy’s fever had receded, and he was no longer suffering from headaches or tummy pain, he had even drunk some tea and eaten some crackers before falling asleep on his bed. Billy had been right on his bed with America playing some movies on your phone.

Wanda had been fussing around the three of them, she was busing herself stopping any intrusive thoughts that were threatening to invade her mind. She was confused enough, tired enough, scared enough to allow another set of concerns filled her life at the moment.

You sat down on the sofa, the young woman tensed but her eyes never drifted from the photo album still open at the coffee table. You glanced at the pictures, having taken a pick early into the night before settling your eyes on Wanda.

“What a night, eh?” Your voice broke the silence in the room, it didn’t carry the usual bite and teasing tone you had come to use with Wanda, instead it was filled with tiredness and curiosity.

“Yeah, I never stopped enough to thank you for the help.” She finally said tilting her head to glance at you. “I never thought your sister…well, that you and America…”

“Oh, yeah, I know.” You chuckled wriggling your eyebrows. “I bet it was quite the shock for you to discover we were sisters, eh?”

Wanda allowed herself a tiny smile, “what surprised me is that she is such a charming young woman, responsible, and quite smart. And you don’t seem to fit in that description.”

You laughed throwing your head back, while allowing the comment wash over you. Wanda observed your reaction with some surprised, but her lips curled into a please smile, soon she was also laughing shaking her head at the absurdity of her situation. Here she was, sitting on her living room with a woman she though annoying and a bitch, only to find a comfort she never thought possible.

“Nah, she is good sister, I’m the bad one.” You finally replied never losing your smile, Wanda pressed her lips together looking away for a moment.

“I don’t think you are the bad one.” You raised an eyebrow, your eyes shinning with wonderment. “You are a bitch, but you’re not bad.”

“Fair enough, Princess.” Once more Wanda rolled her eyes at the nickname, at some point she had thought it annoying and quite invasive, a way for you to railed her up. But now all she could think of was how much she liked the sound of it coming from you.

The silence that followed was filled with questions unasked, Wanda was not the woman you thought she was. She was alone in the city, raising two boys all by herself while working to educate the newest generation in a school that could provide her with great opportunities. Natasha had advocated for her, she had even given her the house in which she and Yelena had grown, offering her a spot in a school that didn’t take just anyone in.

What was her story?

What was hidden behind those emerald eyes that sometimes reflect sadness and loneliness?

You stirred awake turning around while knitting your brows together, you could not ask these questions. You shouldn’t be wondering anything about the woman sitting in front of you. Your heart should not beat so fast, and your abdomen shouldn’t host fluttering butterflies creating a void you were familiar with.

Bouncing your feet on the ground, you stood up walking around the living room. Wanda followed you with her eyes, her own mind playing games with her and what had happened that night. She kept telling her that she was grateful for your intervention, that whatever she was experimenting at the moment was the result of America and you coming in to help her in a situation she felt was slipping from her grasp. It had been so long since Wanda forged any kind of friendship that was not determined by Jarvis or her father, she was finally free to be herself and reached out to people by allowing herself to make new bounds.

That was the reason why Wanda felt confused by you at the moment, it wasn’t because you made her heart skip  beat, or because you made her feel vulnerable. It wasn’t either because she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and coyness, or because her stomach had come to tingle whenever the both of you engaged in a bickering contest.

It was because she was learning how to make new friends.

That was all.

Wanda drown the voice inside her head, that traitorous voice that told her Y/N was the only one making her feel that way. Her other friends, the new ones, had never shake her world the way you had done so from day one.

“You should probably get some sleep.” Your voice broke Wanda’s trail of thoughts, she jerked around blushing profusely when she realized you were standing right beside her.

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked, and you snorted tilting your head.

“You should probably go to sleep, Princess.” You glanced at the watch on your wrist. “It’s three in the morning, I could keep watch for you, and I can wake you up as soon as the doctor is here.”

Wanda furrowed her brows at you, “doctor?”

“Well, I figured we need an expert to watch over Tommy, so I asked in a favour.” You replied shrugging, “hope you don’t mind.”

Once more, Wanda felt warmth all over, her heart melting at the gesture.

“No, I…thank you.” She took the last sip from her chocolate before yawning, her eyes drifted to the stairs then towards you. “If you don’t mind…I prefer to stay here…can we talk or something?”

You hesitated for a moment; it was quite evident Wanda was tired but she was stubborn enough to keep herself going if necessary. With a sigh, you nodded curtly sitting down on your previous spot of on the sofa.

“So, what do you wanna talk about?” You finally asked after the silence became too much, Wanda shrugged with her eyes falling upon the pictures.

It was still too soon, and you…The young woman turned towards you, she didn’t want to scare you off with her torrid story. She didn’t want you to know about her past, not yet, not like this; so straightened herself up she asked the safest question she could think off.

“Tell me how come you end up with such an amazing sister as America?”

_____________________________________________________________

The constant buzzing of conversation sneaked into her senses; she knew she had to wake up. An internal alarm was telling her she was needed, but her body and the recent activities had left her drained of energy necessary to open up her eyes.

Besides, she was warmth, and comfortable in the place she was in.

For brief moment she gave herself to the feeling, and her mind was slowly but surely losing the battle with her wakeful state until her ears caught the sound of a familiar voice.

“Thank you for coming, Strange, I know that this is not your specialty but…” You stated offering a tired smile to the man standing before you.

“Nonsense, I will be more than happy to help you out and that’s why I brought my wife.” Strange stepped aside and soon Christine came in rolling her eyes, on her hand the small duffel bag she used to carry with her everywhere.

“Hey, Y/N.” You dropped your shoulders walking towards her and wrapping your arms around her.

“Christine.” The older woman shot Strange a quick glance before wrapping her arms around you returning the hug.

“Miss me much?” She asked teasingly, you nodded looking away sheepishly.

“Like you wouldn’t imagine.”

“That’s why you haven’t called as of late?” The question came like a reproach but without any bite. You winced placing a nervous hand on the back of your head.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So I was told.” Christine waved her hand closing the door behind her, her eyes drifted around the place with curiosity before settling on you. “Where is the patient?”

“He is upstairs with America and his brother…”

“I am guessing you are the mother.” Doctor Stephen Strange stepped closer to the redhead now sitting on the sofa, her cheeks wearing pillow marks and her hair completely dishevelled.

“I…I am…Hi, sorry I just…” Wanda stood up feeling a little foolish and out of place, Stephen smiled kindly at her stretching his hand.

“No, please, we heard it was a rough night.”

“Yeah, it…it was I just…” Wanda stuttered kicking herself for being such an idiot, she dropped her shoulders wincing lightly. “I guess I need coffee, can I offer you something to drink?”

Christine chuckled waving her hand, “don’t worry, dear, I think coffee sounds perfect…”

“Good then, you and Wanda can go upstairs and Stephen and I will make the coffee and something to eat for everyone, would you like that?” You turned to Wanda who was still far too sleepy, and far too lost to said anything at all, you had taken charge of everything so it seemed and a part of Wanda was thankful for that.

“Yes, that…that sounds good…”

“Okay then, if you lead the way.” Christine took on a professional stance, her tone of voice and ever her glance changed, and as soon as they started making their way upstairs she started asking questions about the twins to Wanda.

“She was happy you called.” Strange stated, sitting down on a chair in the kitchen, you hummed moving around the unknown kitchen trying to locate the coffee maker, and some instant coffee.

“I was happy you guys could make it.” You replied never once looking back at your dad’s best friend.

“So, is she your new girl?”

You almost drop the mug in your hand, your eyes opening wide at the sudden declaration and Stephen merely smirked at your reaction.

“NO!” He winced, and she rolled your eyes trying to get a hold of your voice. “No, no we are neighbours, America babysits for her from time to time.”

“America has a job?” Stephen scrunched up his nose, you chuckled shrugging.

“Yeah, she took it after declaring she felt bored out of her mind and this would teach her some responsibility.” You pursed your lips. “She is right, you know? And, well…Wanda seems to need all the help she can get.”

“I see.” Stephen stood up walking towards the fridge and putting some bacon and milk, going around the place to help you out. “And you…and her…”

“Neighbours.” She stated curtly.

“Right, because you are dating Danvers, right?”

Now he was sounding like a confused parent that was no longer up to date with his child’s demeanours. You sighed rolling your eyes, knowing the questions came for the genuine interested of the man, and not because he wanted to be noisy or intrusive. He was like an uncle to you, and after your parents had died all those who had been part of your parents circle had taken it upon themselves to watch over you and America.

“I’m fucking Carol, there is a difference.” You replied slightly defensively, Stephen made a face shaking his head.

“You are dating her, America told us you invited her over for dinner and that she met her formally this week.” Stephen shot you a triumphant smile, and you could only roll your eyes at that.

Of course, America would mention this to everyone who wanted to hear her.

 “I’m not dating Carol, but I did invite her to dinner and introduce her to America.”

“You know it’s okay to move on, right?” Stephen inquired again, pressing the topic you had tried to evade for as long as your stubbornness allowed it.

You stopped what you were doing, Stephen continued cutting the bacon and serving the eggs and the coffee alongside a cup of warm tea and some crackers. He waited for your answer, hearing the noises of muffled conversation coming from the second floor.

“I’ve been going out with her, and she seems nice, and quite found of me, and the sex it’s incredible and…”

“But you don’t feel anything?”

You sat down shaking your head, “I like her, and of course I feel affection for her, but…”

Stephen nodded in understanding placing the cup of coffee in front of you, he sat by your side taking the tea in his hands.

“I understand.” He blew on the mug before speaking again. “Why do you continue with the relationship, though?”

“I was hoping I would feel something, but I know it’s not fair to her…to me.” You snorted taking a long sip from the black beverage. “I guess that’s why I have been running from you.”

“Ah, the wisdom of the older generation.” Stephen winked at you leaning in. “It’s okay to feel confused, and to want something, Y/N. What it is not correct is to play with someone that may be interested in you.”

“I know.”

Stepehen made a face satisfied with the ending of the conversation, then his eyes drifted to the newcomers that were talking animatedly about some movie. America’s eyes lit up and she soon run towards Stephen hugging him tightly.

“Uncle Strange!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Billy stood unsure at the entrance of the kitchen, he glanced first at America then a Strange and finally at you.

You tilted your head patting the chair beside you.

“Want something to eat, Billy?” He nodded approaching the chair, helped by you he fixed his body to move closer to the counter.

“So, young man, America tells me you are one of the men of the house, is that correct?” Stephen asked serving him a cup of orange juice, Billy opened his eyes big nodding tentatively.

“Perfect, tell me, do you like eggs with bacon or toast with jam?”

Billy pursed his lips thinking hard before talking, “toast with jam.”

“Good selection, my good sir, let’s eat then.”

____________________________________________________________

Saturday night came faster than you thought possible.

Christine and Stephen had spent most of the day with you and America, and most of the morning with Wanda and the twins. You had left your neighbours house with a heavy heart, thought secure in the knowledge Tommy would be just fine and that Wanda and Billy would be okay.

The afternoon had been quite the familiar time, in which America had enjoyed the company of the couple while talking about school and her aspirations for the future. The topic of Carol was not brought again into conversation, but you knew that Christine was thinking the same as Stephen and that most of that conversation had been thanks to America’s own concern.

You took a quick shower before getting inside your bed, your phone had been forgotten most of the day and by the time you finally got to see it the first message that appeared in there was that of Carol.

“Hey, just wondering if you are okay, hope you have an amazing day, Y/N. thinking of you.”

You turned to the side, your mind playing around what had happened in the last day and a half. The twins, Wanda, the conversations and the things that were left unsaid. You knew deep inside your heart you needed to talk to Carol, with a trembling hand you went to write to her but, at the last minute your finger drifted to another chat. A new one.

“Hey, Princess, how are the twins?”

_____________________________________________________________

[astrosfaerydae]

Kinktober Masterlist!

So first off some housekeeping. Prompts are based off of Nymphare's Kinktober 2024 List. They will range in ratings from G-E(some prompts like first dates don't necessarily need to be explicit imo). I will be swapping between the dead dove and general list. I wont be doing all of them but as it stands I think I have 25... I cut a few to make room for dealers choice which I am excited for to say the least. This list will be updated as I make the posts for each prompt. Anyways lets get to it!

🎃 Day 1: Costumes (General List)

Rating: T Words: 908 Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Costumes, Canon Comp, Halloween Party, Chan and his many man crushes that Felix uses to his advantage 🔗: Cloud Vs. Fred Flintstone

🎃 Day 2: Hybrids AU (General List)

Rating: T Words: 3.6k Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: Hybrids AU, Cat Hybrid!Jisung, Major Character Injury, Getting Together, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort 🔗: Astray CW// Domestic Abuse, Animal Abuse, Injury, Broken Bones (none of these are in graphic detail however but here just in case)

Day 3 (no post)

🎃 Day 4: Firsts (General List)

Rating: G Words: 1k Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: First dates, fluff, lots of fluff, sickfic(kinda), Canon comp 🔗: For so Long I Have Waited “Do you remember what today was supposed to be?” Minho asked, gently swaying back and forth. He was all dressed up with nowhere to go in comparison to Jisung’s big ratty tee-shirt and boxers. 

🎃Day 5: Eating Something Sensually (General List)

Rating: E Words: 1.1k Pairing: Minsung Main tags: Blow jobs, canon comp, Minho is a grump, fluff and smut, Banana's 🔗: Ba-Na-Na, Ba-Na-Na "Why don't you come over here and taste the real thing?"

🎃Day 6: Terms of Endearment (General List)

Rating: T Words: 3.2k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Canon comp, excessive use of the word baby, Idiots in Love, Getting together, Fluff 🔗: I'm Holding on to Hope, It's a Problem I Admit “And you are sure you aren't a natural blonde or did the bleach strip your brain cells too?” “Would you stop making fun of me?!” Felix laughed softly trying to hide the slight sniffle. Jisung must’ve noticed, however, as he pulled him into a crushing hug. “You love him don’t you?”

🎃Day 7: Forbidden Love (General List)

Rating: E Words: 4.6k Pairing: Chanlix Main tags: Royalty Au, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Power Imbalance, King Chan, Servant Felix 🔗: Scared to Burn the Page Felix entered the room and stood like a statue until the doors shut. Even after, his demeanor was unusually sheepish. To be fair, a private meeting with the king is rarely ever a good thing. And depending on Felix’s reaction, it hopefully would be a great thing. “Relax,” Chan said, forcing a smile, “I didn't call you here to berate you. Quite the opposite actually.” “Oh,” Felix’s gait grew more confident as he approached the king, “So what am I here for, your majesty.”

🎃Day 8: Watersports/omorashi (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 3k Pairing: Poly skz (Jilix, Minsung, Chanlix) Main tags: Omorashi, Kink exploration, desperation, frottage 🔗: Take the Pleasure With the Pain, Double Doses “Have you ever heard of something called,” Felix paused for a moment as he tried to remember what it was properly called, “I think the term is, uhmm, Omorashi?” “DUDE!” Jisung nearly choked on his drink making Felix shrink against the wall, knocking over a broom in the process.

🎃 Day 9: One True Love (General List)

Rating: T Words: 3.1k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Royalty AU, Prince Felix, Guard Chan, Post-break up, arranged marriage, true love conquers all 🔗: Pull Me Close and Twist the Knife Neither was happy about the arrangement. It was clear in the way that Jisu walked down the aisle. Her face drenched in tears of hopeless misery, more falling with each step. Felix, too, was crying as he looked at her with pity. They didn’t want this.

Day 10 (No post)

Day 11: Corruption Kink (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 2.6k (chapter 1) Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: Corruption kink, Church Retreat, Jisung is the pastors son, Minho is forced to be there, First times, Blow jobs “Are you ok? You seem down.” 🔗: Maybe Hell Ain't So Bad After All “Just peachy,” His voice was sweet but his lips had curled into a sarcastic snarl, “I was forced to be here so please if you aren't here to fuck me or feed me please leave me alone.” “O-oh okie-dokie then,”

Notes:

cw// Religious guilt, blasphemy, Negative talk about religion, implied homophobia This one has two chapters! Chapter two is coming on the 30th! But they can be read separately! title: If I'm There by Bad Omens

🎃 Day 11: PDA (General List)

Rating: T Words: 1k Pairing: Chanlix Main tags: Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Hiding in Plain Sight, Not so secret, Alcohol, Drunken Karaoke, Fluff 🔗: Hey, I Want Your PDA CW// Alcohol Changbin turned his chair to fully face Felix, “Are you ok?” “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jisung added as he turned in their direction as well. Felix tried to speak but the words kept getting caught in his throat. It didn’t help that Chan was giggling like a drunken fool beside him, “Wait d-did you not see—” “You did see a ghost! I knew this place was haunted!!” Jisung sounded way too excited about that.

🎃Day 12: Subspace/Domspace (General List)

Rating: E Words: 2.1k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Canon Comp, Choking, Sub Felix, Dom Chan, Still somehow fluffy..., Subspace, Doms need reassurance too (Please read all the tags on the fic thoroughly) 🔗: You Always Wanna Run Your Mouth  “Well that worked better than I thought,” Chan chuckled proudly, “Now, open wide.”

Day 13 (No Post)

🎃Day 14: Somno (DDDNE)

Rating: Explicit Words: 2.7K Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Somnophilia, Canon Compliant, Anal sex, Consensual Non-consent but even that is dubious, Angst and Fluff and Smut 🔗: I Don't Believe You When You Tell Me You Are Fine Then there was a comment on reddit he couldn’t get out of his head. “My girlfriend wakes me up with a blowjob every morning. 10/10 would recommend.”

🎃Day 15: Wearing Your Significant Others Clothing (Gen List)

Rating: E Words: 1.5k Pairing: Changjin Main Tags: Canon Compliant, Newlywed dorm, Smut, Frottage, fluffy smut! 🔗: If We Have Each Other “Hey, babe,” Hyunjin leaned inside the steamy bathroom, hanging onto the door frame, “Do you know where my clothes are?” Changbin moved the shower curtain enough to poke his head out. Despite the situation Hyunjin couldn’t help but giggle a little at the ball of white suds on top of Changbin’s head, running down his face, making him look like Santa Claus, “Shouldn’t they be in the bedroom?” “Yes, but I looked already,” Hyunjin whined, “It's not there.”

🎃Day 16: Dealers choice: Blood (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 4.4k Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: Blood, Blood as Lube, Violence, Fluff(yes fluff), Smut, Vamp/Human, Purgatory, Supernatural Crossover 🔗: Killed and Born Again His soul was never meant for purgatory. Yes, he was a hunter before he was turned and could survive here, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he had to survive here.

Notes:

CW// (It's DDDNE soooo yea) Blood, Vampire bites, Violence, Death The only context readers need to understand this if you haven't read any of the Love is The Death series is as follows: Jisung was a hunter turned vamp and was killed. Minho was a revenant who refused to crossover, but was eventually convinced by Chan and Felix. Chapter one is the smut and Chapter two is the plot for those that care to read it but it's not necessary if you are just here for kinktober lol!

🎃Day 17: Edging (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 2.7k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Orgasm Edging, Orgasm denial, Technicaly CNC, Light BDSM, Canon comp, Felix is a stubborn brat CW// Consensual Non Consent (Felix can't say no or he loses the bet) 🔗: Take Me Past The Edge It was a stupid bet. He had been bragging about his stamina compared to Chan’s. A simple teasing remark to rile him up. Quickly it devolved into a competition and of course Felix felt the need to prove himself.

🎃Day 18: Praise Kink (General List)

Rating: E Words: 1.7k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Praise kink, Canon comp, Unintentional Arousal, Chan is oblivious to what he's done, Hand Jobs, Cum swallowing, PWP 🔗: I am a Good Boy With a deep breath he tried again. It wasn’t much better in his opinion. “Loosen up a bit, shake it out! Your voice is beautiful, just project it a bit more forward on this next take, babe,” Felix could hear the smile in Chan’s voice, making him blush. Another take and Felix waited for feedback. It was taking a bit which put him on edge, “Mmhm, just like that,” with Chan’s voice over the intercom the anxiety lifted, “Let’s move on to the intro and first verse next, that was gorgeous Lix. Beautiful.” 

🎃Day 19: Love At First Sight (General List)

Rating: T Words: 1.5k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Mutual Pining, Not actually unrequited love, very light angst, FLUFF(yes in caps you think I'm gonna get love at first sight and not make it fluffy as fuck) 🔗: We Were Just Kids When We Fell In Love Seven years later “So let me get this straight, so you're telling me you have been in love with Felix from day one? He doesn’t know! AND you aren’t planning on telling him?!”

🎃Day 20: Will You Marry Me?

Rating: G Words: 1.6k Pairing: Changjin Main Tags: Fluff, marriage proposals, some humor, Canon Comp 🔗: I Love You and That's All I Really Know  “You are going to what? Repeat that, please!” Chan stared back at Changbin with wide-eyed excitement. Jisung too was bouncing in his seat waiting for him to answer. “I am going to ask Hyunjin to marry me,” Changbin sighed, the relief of getting this massive secret off of his chest was immense. “When?! How?! I need all the details!” Jisung squealed back in excitement.

🎃Day 22: Kissing All of Them

Rating: T Words: 9k (7 chapters) Pairing: Felix-centric Polyskz Main Tags: Fluff, First kisses, poly skz, getting together, light angst, Canon Comp 🔗: Every Kiss Gets a Little Sweeter  “I’ve never kissed anyone,” The alcohol had melted through Felix’s brain to mouth filter, he meant to say yes but the overwhelming insecurity hit him like a truck. “Wait,” Jisung rolled to the side and stared up at the ceiling in confusion, “You have three sexy ass boyfriends and you haven’t kissed any of them? Not even Chan?! Didn’t you ever play spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven? What did you do in school, study?!”

🎃Day 23: Aphrodisiacs

Rating: E Words: 2.4k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Smut, canon comp, desperately horny, fluff(its chanlix its gonna still be sweet) 🔗: Fuck Me! No, Really Fuck Me! “How many did you eat?!” Jisung seemed exceedingly worried as he slammed the door behind them. “I dunno, like a handful? Were they special or something?” “I swear to god you keep this between me, you and Chan. Me and Minho take one after concerts before we head home… they have a mix of things that uhhhh spice things up.” “So they make you horny? That’s what's happening to me?” It made sense but this was way more intense than just a bit of extra spice. 

[Main Masterlist]

[sjsmith56]

The Precious Heart - A Private Man, Chapter 9

Summary: After staying over Tracey accompanies Bucky and Rebecca to a local farmer’s market. Her skills as a nurse are displayed during a medical emergency.

Length: 4.3 K

Characters: Bucky, Tracey, Rebecca, Amina.

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content which is unsuitable for readers under the age of 18. Medical emergency requiring CPR.

Author notes: More exploration of the deepening relationship between Bucky and Tracey. Divider by vecteezy.com.

<<Chapter 8

After a dinner that Bucky and Tracey prepared, sharing tastes and soft kisses during cooking, the three of them settled in the living room to watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. Alley Cat was curled up in Rebecca's lap, seemingly content to receive her touch. The couple held hands as they tried to guess the answers on both shows. It was ridiculously normal, and they loved every moment of it. For both of them just having someone close to care about, rely on, and fall in love with had been a gift that neither had expected. Later they both put Rebecca to bed; Tracey dressing her in her night clothes, Bucky reading to her, both of them kissing her good night in a ritual that they all benefitted from. Just before they closed the door Alley Cat came into the bedroom, jumped on the bed and curled up next to Rebecca. She smiled and placed her hand gently on the cat. In the living room, Bucky put some soft music on and sat with Tracey on his lap, kissing and caressing each other. He wanted to ask her something, but she brought it up first as she ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

"You know, I've had a couple of dreams of putting a child to bed," she said softly. "One with blue eyes, just like yours."

"So have I," he admitted, "but she looks like you. Do you want children?"

"Yeah, I always wanted them," she replied. "I have a few nieces and nephews and would look after them when their parents went out. They were sweet kids."

"How many siblings do you have?" asked Bucky.

"Two sisters and a brother," she replied. "Ben is 45, divorced now, but he has three kids. Wendy is 42, with two kids and Lena is 40 with three kids. Their mother died when they were kids and and a few years later my Dad met my Mom, married her. It wasn't a good marriage."

She stopped talking and buried her face in his neck for a moment. Bucky held her close, stroking her back while she dealt with what were obviously unhappy memories. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke again.

"My Dad was jealous of her, very possessive, because she was quite young. She was a good mother, even to the others and they bonded better with her than they did with him. He became abusive and as soon as they could leave they did but Mom stayed with him, sure she could change him."

"Is that why you're so quiet?" he asked. "You were afraid to draw his attention to you?"

Tracey nodded then burrowed herself tighter into Bucky. "I didn't dare date because he thought every boy was out for one thing. Every innocent encounter I had with a boy was subject to an interrogation, wanting to know if I was sneaking around, being promiscuous, drinking, doing drugs. Mom tried to protect me, but it wasn't until I got into nursing school that I was finally able to break away. Even then, when I became involved with Geoff, my ex-husband, and he made it known he wanted a virgin wife, my dad was thrilled. He didn't care that Geoff was a liar, that the marriage was just a sham to cement his family's reputation as a God-fearing Christian family. When I told him that Geoff was cheating, he blamed it on me, for not being a dutiful wife."

Her face looked up at his and Bucky could see the pain in her eyes, pain that he felt and shared deep inside. Not everyone was tortured by a machine, but they were still tortured emotionally. Softly, he kissed her and held her close.

"You still carry those scars," he whispered. "I hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes. I'm honoured that you trust me enough to tell me. You will always be safe with me. Whatever violence that was done to me when I was HYDRA's captive, I vowed never to pass it on to someone I love, neither by action nor voice."

"I know," she smiled. "I saw it that first night, how gentle you were with Rebecca when you put her to bed. You have a lifetime of repressed love waiting to burst forth and I'm so ready to receive and return it."

They kissed again, a joining of hearts and minds between two people who had been hurt and isolated from the comfort of others. The soft music played on as they sat in their close embrace. Never had Bucky felt so calm as he did with Tracey. Her hand was on his chest for much of it, feeling his warmth through his shirt.

"This is nice," said Bucky softly then he swallowed and nudged her head with his chin. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"I'm not tired," she replied, smiling slightly.

"Neither am I, but I still want to go to bed."

She looked up at him, noticing his eyes were dark. There was no anger, or irritation but there was desire and a soft look that pleaded with her silently. Moving her hand to his cheek she ran it back towards his hair and he leaned into it before lowering his lips to hers. As he wrapped his arms around her during the kiss, she had the same feeling whenever she became involved in an old black and white romance on TV. In a sense he was asking her to surrender to him, but Tracey realized he had already surrendered to her. There would be no force just an invitation to be his and only his just as he belonged to her.

"Bucky," she whispered. "Let's go to bed."

Without effort he stood up, holding her in his arms. Leaning towards the light switch she turned it off and they kissed again as he carried her in the dark to the bedroom. When he closed the door behind them, he let her down and pressed her into the wall, kissing her passionately before kneeling before her and undoing her jeans, pulling them down. His mouth was on her thighs, nuzzling into the apex of them, then pressing his mouth into her abdomen. He looked up at her from below, slightly breathless and Tracey pulled her shirt off, tossing it to the side. His shirt came off immediately and he enclosed her in his arms as he buried his face into her core before leaning back and gazing up at her.

With a sudden realization that she was being worshipped by the man kneeling in front of her, Tracey knew that whatever happened now was by her leave. As he waited for her permission she ran her hand through his hair and Bucky leaned into her touch, closing his eyes at the sensation she bestowed upon him. Reaching to her back she removed her bra then hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties and began lowering them. With a smile Bucky finished removing them and lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder.

"I won't let you fall," he promised in a whisper, looking up at her, as a supplicant would look up to his queen.

Nodding, Tracey grasped his hair with her hand and gasped when he thrust his mouth into her folds, exploring that part of her with his lips and tongue. Immediately she gripped his hair tightly as the sensations overwhelmed her. When he lifted her other leg onto his other shoulder and held her in place with just his hands and the wall there was a small sense of panic at first and she grasped his ears with both hands. His soft touches didn't stop, and she relaxed her grip to the point where she let go and began to caress her own breasts. When she looked down at him, he was watching, and she moved her hips in response. A hum from his throat signalled his approval and she moved in tandem with him making herself more and more aroused. Her cries and gasps grew louder and more desperate until her orgasm exploded inside. She squeezed her thighs together trapping Bucky's head between them before he slowed down his efforts and finally stopped, allowing her to put her legs on the ground. Reaching for his shirt he wiped his face and looked up at her again.

"You alright?" he asked, running his hands over her thighs, still on his knees.

"My legs feel rubbery."

Standing up Bucky lifted Tracey into his arms again and laid her on the bed. He unzipped his jeans and stripped down, climbing under the covers with her. Burrowing into his side Tracey sought the warmth of his skin as she shivered slightly. When she didn't stop Bucky went to the linen closet in the hallway and brought in another blanket, doubling it up on top of her.

"That might have been too much exertion for you," he said. "You probably felt like you were going to fall."

"It crossed my mind," she whispered. "Still not used to how strong you are."

"I had you, angel," he murmured. "If it was too much for you I won't do it again."

It took a few minutes, but Tracey finally stopped shivering and they laid there holding each other.

"I found a song that makes me think of us," she said suddenly. "I've been listening to it on the car between appointments."

"Yeah? Do you think I'll like it?"

"I hope so," she replied, as she got out of the bed and took her cell phone out of her purse.

She got back in and laid partially on top of Bucky, searching for it on her phone. Pressing play, she laid with her head on his chest and brought up the lyrics as the song played. He listened and read the lyrics without comment, his face thoughtful but when it got to the chorus he smiled.

I wanna stand with you on a mountain

I wanna bathe with you in the sea

I wanna lay like this forever

Until the sky falls down on me.

"I like that," he said. "What's it called?"

"Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden," she said. "It was a hit in the 1990s."

"I would put that on my phone," he said. "I found another song as well. Can I find it on your phone?"

She handed her phone to him and he brought up The Very Thought of You, sung by Nat King Cole. Together they listened to it and when it came to the last line "It's just the thought of you, The very thought of you, my love" Tracey smiled and kissed him.

"That's beautiful. Are you going to add it to your playlist?"

He nodded. "Still like the 1940s music best, although I guess this version is from the 1950s. It was originally out in 1934 when I was a teenager."

"What were you like when you were young?" asked Tracey, still laying partially on top of Bucky so she could see his face.

"It was the Depression so I worked a lot of odd jobs with Steve to make extra money for the family. I was a good student and athlete, hoped to get a scholarship but it didn't happen so I worked on the Brooklyn docks after I graduated high school in 1935. Tried to save up enough to go to college but found out I liked to go out dancing with a different girl most nights too much. Then the war came along, I got drafted and went straight into basic training. The 1940s music kind of remind me of the man I used to be. Maybe that's why I like it better."

"I like it too," replied Tracey. "It was very romantic dancing to the music you picked last week. Made me feel like I was in a movie. You make me feel like I'm in a movie, a romance."

"I'm just being a gentleman. I want you to feel special because you are, to me."

His hand was caressing her hair while Tracey was running her fingertips over his chest muscles. She looked up at him and on impulse she kissed him, softly at first, then as they looked at each other it became more passionate. As he turned towards her he gazed deeply into her eyes then kissed her again, fiercely. Gently pushing Tracey onto her back Bucky laid on top and ground his hips into her. She responded by lifting her hips into his and lowered her hand down between them to stroke his thickening cock. From there she touched herself and Bucky gently raised her fingers to his lips, kissing then licking them gently while watching her intently.

"I'm wet," she whispered.

"I can tell," he replied. "Do you want to try it without lubricant?"

She didn't answer but she did touch herself again then stroked her fingers over his shaft. Gently she grasped him and guided him inside of her, breathing her way through his entry. When he was in all the way she ran her hands over his waist then down to his cheeks.

"Feels good to me," she said in a low voice that changed to a pleasured moan as Bucky pulled out slightly and pressed himself back in.

"I'm not too heavy?" he asked as he slowly moved his hips, pressing himself into that sensitive spot with just enough friction to feel her body respond.

"I like feeling you on me," she gasped back, as she grasped what she could of his muscled torso and ass. "You're mine, Bucky. You're my man, I'm your woman and this is us, joined at the hip."

She laughed at her use of the phrase, a laugh that turned into a whimper as she felt pleasure from his thrust. His face was buried in her neck, mouthing it, with his tongue and teeth gently claiming her as he tasted the sweet saltiness of her body. Their mouths met in a joining of lips and tongue that seemed to complete a circuit between them, pressed hard together as they both opened themselves to the physical desires of the other. For what seemed like an eternity but wasn't long enough they were aware only of their partner, of the sounds of pleasure, the taste of sweat and salt, the feel of hot, aroused flesh, and finally the searing white flash of orgasm, with both straining to release the bliss from their core, willing it to overtake their entire body. They laid together, still joined for some time before Tracey put her hand on his face.

"I love you."

She said the words before she kissed him again.

"Inima ta este prețioasă pentru mine," he whispered. "Your heart is precious to me."

"Say more to me," she asked. "I could listen to you talk in a foreign language all night."

He smiled, then carefully pulled out and shifted to her side, telling her the story of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle in French. When he was finished, he told it to her in English.

"Sir Gawain was one of King Arthur's knights and he freely agreed to marry a foul faced woman, Ragnelle, after she helped to save the life of the King. On their wedding night when she entered the bed chamber, she was beautiful and explained that she had been under an enchantment. By freely agreeing to marry her he had already broken part of the curse – for she could live as a beautiful woman by either day or night but the rest of the time she had to wear her foul face. She asked him to choose which he preferred, beautiful by day or beautiful by night. He refused to do so, saying it was her right to choose for herself, and he would abide by her choice. With that decision it was revealed that the curse was broken completely, and she would live as a beautiful woman for all hours of the day and night. They married and were happy because giving her the choice freed her to love him as herself."

Tracey didn't say anything for some time, just gazed at him then she moved her head to rest against his chest and kissed it.

"You really are a romantic man, aren't you?" she asked. "You amaze me in every way."

"I'm amazed that you chose me," he countered. "You accepted me at face value and that meant a lot."

He almost said more but Tracey raised her head, covered his mouth with hers for a soft kiss, then pressed her forehead against his mouth, accepting his kiss on it. Closing his eyes, he held her without saying anything more because it wasn't needed.

🌅

It surprised him when he woke up the next morning by himself. For a moment he lay there then he propped himself up on his elbow and smiled when he heard Tracey and Rebecca talking. Throwing some underwear and his jeans on he picked up a T-shirt and stepped out of the bedroom, walking the short hallway to the kitchen in his bare feet. Both women were dressed and smiled at him. Tracey was leaning against the counter while Rebecca sat in her walker seat.

"You ready for a coffee?" asked Tracey.

"I wouldn't mind a shower first," he said, then he looked at the clock. "You let me sleep in."

"I did. You looked so peaceful there, so I had my shower and by then Rebecca was ready to get up. We were just talking about what we should do today."

"What did you have in mind?" asked Bucky, running his hand through his hair.

"Farmer's market in McCarren Park," stated Rebecca. "We can take our time, pick up some fresh produce. Amina said a lot of them from the newcomer's centre go there as it reminds them of their home, in happier times."

"Okay, sounds like a plan," said Bucky. "I'm going to take that shower then I'll make my favourite ladies some breakfast."

"Why don't you let us make you breakfast?" asked Tracey. "I already have cinnamon buns rising in the oven."

Bucky's eyes sparkled. Tracey made him cinnamon buns. He looked at his sister, at the grin on her face and knew she probably told Tracey they were his favourite. By the look on her face there was more that the two were planning. He raised his hands in surrender and went to the bathroom, deciding to take longer than his usual five minutes, even taking the time to shave. When he came out they were putting the finishing touches on the table, including a small bouquet of chrysanthemums from the back yard, which were beginning to bloom. Gathering Tracey in his arms he hugged her, feeling fortunate to have her in his life. Then he put his arm around Rebecca's shoulder and kissed her cheek, loving her so much at that moment. He looked at the spread; not just cinnamon buns but bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, pancakes and a bowl of cut up fresh fruit with Greek yogurt and honey.

"You two went all out," he said, with emotion.

"Well, you've cooked for us," said Rebecca. "We decided to cook for you. Even I helped. The walker makes it easier for me."

They sat down and ate almost everything. His sister noticeably ate more than she usually did. Bucky said something about good food and good company which both women agreed with. They were all surprised when Alley Cat jumped on the table and stole the last piece of bacon, running to a hiding place to eat it.

"I'm sorry," exclaimed Tracey. "He's never done that before."

"Guess he likes the food as well," said Bucky. "I'll clean up. Least I can do."

Soon they were in the car headed to McCarren Park. On the way Bucky and Rebecca reminisced about going there to see Fourth of July fireworks when they were younger. When they arrived Tracey dropped them off then parked and returned to find them talking with Amina and her family.

"Miss Tracey," called the Sudanese woman, pleased to see the young woman. "Have you ever met my husband Irshad? He couldn't come to the feast at the newcomer center as he was working but he has today off."

She greeted the tall man and he bowed his head to her briefly. "My wife has told me much about you, Mr. Bucky, and Mrs. Rebecca," he said. "She is very fond of all three of you."

"We're very fond of her," said Rebecca, grasping the hand of Amina. "She is one of my angels."

They began walking as a group with Rebecca and Amina still holding hands. Kafeel walked beside his father but looked back at Bucky several times.

"I think he likes you," said Tracey. "You do have a soft side that kids respond to, once they get past your serious face."

"I'm smiling more," replied Bucky. "They're good kids."

They stopped at a food booth where Amina spoke in Arabic to the vendor. Bucky listened and smiled.

"Looks like we're getting a free sample," he said.

Amina turned to them holding two paper cups, offering one to Rebecca and one to Tracey, then she got a third one for Bucky. It had a beautiful red colouring and smelled like flowers.

"This is Sudanese hibiscus tea," she told them. "You buy the dried tea and steep it for a bit then you can drink it by itself or with a bit of sugar and a few drops of lemon juice. It's very good for you."

Rebecca took a sip and raised her eyebrows in surprise, liking its delicate flavour. "I like that Bucky, can we get some?" she asked.

He surprised the vendor by addressing him in Arabic while Amina beamed, still impressed that he knew the language. He bought a small package of tea, paying in cash and put it in the shopping bag that Rebecca had on the back of her wheelchair. They stopped at several other vendors of various nationalities and sampled some other things before arriving at a vegetable stand where Bucky picked out some fresh tomatoes, carrots and onions. As they were walking Bucky got a brief whiff of the Japanese cigarettes and looked around trying to see if the man who had watched their house was nearby but he didn't see him and didn't smell the smoke again.

After another hour they went through almost all of the market and were ready to leave when they heard some cries from a few stalls away. They heard calls for medical help and Tracey went over finding an elderly man unconscious on the ground. Kneeling beside him she checked his pulse and asked if anyone saw what happened. His wife said he clutched his arm then collapsed.

"Call 911 and tell them it's a probable heart attack," she said to his wife. "I'm a nurse and I'm going to begin CPR."

She made sure he was flat on his back, positioned the man's head to open his airway, then placed her hands over his chest and began pushing. After 30 compressions she stopped, gave the man two breaths and began the compressions again. Bucky watched Tracey calmly do what she could for the man. He could hear the sirens getting closer and told her help was coming. When the paramedics arrived they waited for her to finish her set then fastened an air bag to his face and began forcing air into him. Tracey told them the man had an erratic pulse when she felt it then it stopped and she began compressions within seconds. A fire truck arrived and several of the firemen came to take over compressions while the paramedics set up the AED. Once they had it connected and charged they stopped the compressions and pressed the button to restart his heart. It didn't work the first time and a fireman kept up the compressions while they waited for the AED to reset. They shocked him again and this time the paramedics were happy they had a regular heart beat. While they prepared to transport the man his wife came to Tracey and thanked her for saving her husband's life. Tracey was very kind to the woman and said she only did enough to keep him going until the paramedics arrived. Several others came by and complimented her. When the man was taken into the ambulance the crowd dispersed and Bucky looked at Tracey with pride.

"You were so calm," he said, hugging her. "I was impressed at how you took control."

"I didn't even have time to think," she replied. "My training just kicked in."

"I guess Bucky isn't the only hero around here," said Rebecca with a big grin.

There were no news crews that arrived and while many people thanked Tracey for giving the man CPR neither the paramedics nor the firemen talked to her to get her name or anything. It rubbed Bucky the wrong way and he stopped one of the firefighters before he returned to his unit.

"Doesn't she get some recognition for being first on scene and keeping him alive until they could take over?" he asked. "She was heroic."

"Sure, she absolutely was," said the firefighter. "I'll make sure to put her name in the report."

He took Tracey's name but Bucky was still bothered by it, that it didn't seem to be as big a deal as what he did. In his eyes what she did was just as important. Tracey told him it was alright but he talked about it most of the way home.

Chapter 10>>

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[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 9

Memorize it. Destroy it.

prev / series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: ~4.7K

WARNINGS: I'm going to go ahead and flag this chapter as Dark!Frankie / Potential triggers herein for verbal and physical abuse (extreme jealously, manhandling, pinning against a wall, facial bruising, borderline choking), brief mention of self harm/suicidal ideation / Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / language / crass mention of sexual acts / mentions of drug use / Minors DNI

A/N: Frankie breaks something.

Finally getting one of these up in time for Frankie Friday. This chapter. Whew this chapter. It came to me months ago. Something that makes you put everything down so you can transcribe this thing from wherever it’s coming from.

chapter moodboard if you're interested

Divider by @cafekitsune!

“Why are you draggin’ me to this, couldn’t you have found someone else?

“I already told you,” Santiago fiddles with his bowtie in a car window reflection. “It’s a favor to the guy who got us this gig in the first place. Needs bodies in the room for this fundraiser. Davis is covering the donation, it’s the fucking least we could do.”

“You coulda brought some girl.”

“Yeah, but I like you on my arm,” Santi quips with a pout and Fish flips him a choice finger.

The room is filled from marble wall to marble wall with standard Washington DC fixtures. The low din of conversation punctuated with the occasional chime of laugher and clink of glass. Diamonds glitter in the low golden light under massive, equally scintillating chandeliers.

Francisco can't help but scan the room as he trails Pope to the nearest proffered tray of champagne glasses, fingers absent-mindedly wrapping around one when it's placed in his hand.

And it's Frankie who sees her first at a distance. Sheathed in a flowing column of white. Black hair is blown out into loose curls that fall down to the middle of her back, face lit up in a laugh.

When she rocks on her feet he notices that her arm is wrapped around a man’s bicep.

Frankie drains the rest of his champagne, slamming the glass down on a hightop table before Pope catches the crook of his elbow and cuts off his path to her. 

“Don’t.”

“Who the fuck is that.”

“The senator who sponsored this thing? That’s his son.”

“That doesn’t make it better, Pope.” 

Audrey hanging off the arm of some spoiled fuckin’ rich kid.

Not that he’s a kid, he’s got a few years on Frankie at least.

But a senator’s son? 

Audrey. 

His Audrey.

Audrey who he’s seen covered in engine grease, cuddling stray cats, trekking through the jungle covered in sweat and blood.

Audrey who warms his bed and angles big green eyes up at him with his spend still coating her thighs.

His Audrey.

She’s clearly playing a game. 

She’s on a job. 

Undercover. 

She’s not herself. 

And she catches him staring heat at her from across the room.

A million watts of light spark across her features and she waves them over.

“Francisco. Behave.” Pope spikes him a warning.

When they weave through bodies to make it to her she greets each with kisses on both cheeks, grip falling subtly to Frankie’s arm as her last kiss lingers. 

“Let me introduce you," she says to the man, "this is Santiago Garcia and Francisco Morales. The boys who’ve been helping me out down there. The Major is, one of my oldest friends.”

“I should thank you both for keeping her safe,” the Major grins. He’s got a California accent and the tan to match.

She gives them his name but Frankie doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy sizing the man up. Guy’s got three? Four inches in height on him at least. Dark black curls, a face that’s weathered enough to betray that he’s never really worked a desk job. Even Frankie can admit he’s handsome. Roman nose, strong brow. But his eyes startle Frankie the most. 

They’re the same color as Audrey’s. 

The exact same shade of green. The effect of it is stunning when they both meet Frankie’s gaze. 

And Catfish can’t get the flash his brain conjures of the two of them tangled in white sheets out from behind his eyelids.

“You look beautiful tonight, Aud,” Pope charms in an attempt to distract from Fish’s tangible simmering.

“I can clean up okay if I have to,” she winks, untangling her arm from this man’s.

“So what is it that you do?” Frankie cuts in, just this side of prickly.

“Marine engineer,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of champagne. “Which is a pretentious way of saying that I spend my days on boats looking for sunken treasure.”

It is an oversimplification at its finest. Because like the three of them, he’s done his fair share of greasing the cogs that keep the world running smoothly.

And like the three of them, he’s greased them with blood.

“I think we could all use refills," Audrey clears her throat, "Frankie, would you be my extra set of hands?”

“‘Course,” he doesn’t realize he grits it out.

Like spitting slivers of glass.

He flattens one broad palm across the small of her back and guides her in front of him in the direction of the bar. He follows close behind, eyes searing into the back of her skull.

The tattoo on her shoulder taunts him where it peeks out from under the seams of her sleeveless dress.

On display for anyone to see.

When they reach the bar, Frankie slots in behind her, the panes of his chest finding her back.

Audrey presses against him with a hum.

She’s nearly his height in heels and he doesn’t have to bend now to whisper in her ear. “A man more dangerous than me?”

“A friend with a Messerschmitt,” she turns to face him, running her hand over his stomach under his jacket.

And he revels in her touch before betraying the way it soothes.

“You fuck all of your friends?”

Frankie can tell there’s history between them that involves more than clunky warplanes and tinkering with old cars and it bubbles up like bile spat out in needless cruelty.

“Only the ones who know what Messerschmitts are,” she tosses back in kind, her tone level in direct defiance of what’s clawing at the back of her throat. 

She turns around again as the bartender approaches and Frankie steps back a hair, breaking contact with her form.

It makes her seethe.

She hands Frankie three glasses of tequila with lime, balanced easily in generous hands, before she sweeps a gin martini off of the bar and leads him back to where Santiago and the man are laughing about something.

Fish hands Santi and glass holds the other out for Audrey, but she sips from the martini without breaking his stare and Frankie instead has to hand it over to the other man.

Messerschmitt. Since Frankie can’t remember his name.

They toast, what a pleasure to meet, happy you boys are keeping Audrey company out there. 

Company.

“Fish, the Major is a pilot, he was Air Force.”

“In my youth,” the man quips.

“I’ve heard,” he drains his glass and doesn’t attempt to continue down the path what Santi has forged for him. 

And so the two of them carry the conversation alone, Frankie staring daggers at Audrey who shoots him the occasional searing glance every time she plucks an olive from the golden skewer in her drink.

A hush falls over the crowd as vainglorious speeches start up.

But Frankie's ears are ringing.

Audrey makes it through one speech before excusing herself to the restroom with a soft hand on Santi’s elbow, and a brush on Messerschmitt’s cuff.

She doesn’t need to alert Frankie because Frankie’s been watching her every move.

He waits five minutes before slipping away in the same direction.

They’re about to pass each other in the hallway when Frankie’s hand shoots out for her bicep, a glance over his shoulder to be sure no one is looking before dragging and shoving roughly to pin her against the wall.

“So is this what you do, when you’re not with me? Fuck senators’ sons?”

“The fact that he’s a senator's son is honestly the most unfortunate thing about him. And what we do is not my being with you. It’s my job.” She presses something soft into his hand. “That’s for you. If you want it.”

Frankie stuffs whatever it is into his jacket pocket and continues.

“And is this part of your job? Hanging off the arms of handsome men in fancy rooms?” He runs his palms down her bare arms before they settle on her hips.

“Sometimes. But I don’t frequent these in my downtime. This is a favor.”

“A favor. To him.”

“Yes.”

“So you don’t make a habit of this? Being this charming.”

“Aw you really think so?” She snarks and Frankie’s hands on her hips slam her back against the wall.

“You like it, don’t you. All of these eyes on you. Driving me insane.” His fingers brush a curl from her cheek. “Don’t play coy, I see how they look at you. Do you beg them for it, Audrey?” 

“They look at me because I’m a novelty in this room, Frankie.” 

And she’s not wrong. She’s a lithe beautiful thing with rich bronze skin in a room of wives and mistresses the same shade of blonde caked in the same shade of orange. She moves through a sea of hungry eyes with comfort precisely because she doesn’t give a fuck about the other men in this room.

Not even really about Messerschmitt. Not now that he’s here.

“You mean you don’t work your way into their beds? Let them fuck you until you’re screaming?”

She scoffs a “no” and Frankie listens but doesn’t hear.

“Is it their money? Their expensive whiskey and the thread count of their sheets that makes you come?”

His hand skates up over her chest, fingers feather-light over the skin of her collarbone that peeks out from under the high neck of her dress.

“Because there’s no way their cocks are satisfying you. That room is rife with overcompensation.” 

Everything to this point has been some twisted form of foreplay.

But Frankie tips.

His hand moves to her neck now, the broad span of it making easy work of fitting around her throat. 

Because some part of him believes this. Believes that Messerschmitt has had her and would have had her tonight if Santi hadn’t dragged him here and it makes him wonder how many others. 

He needs to know how many others. 

Frankie's eyes are blown dark, logic is abandoned in a brain fogged with jealousy. Skin thrumming with possession.

And it’s out before he can catch it.

“How many of them have had you, Audrey?” Rumbled through low registers of his voice.

He uses his index finger to roughly angle her face back to him from where she’s glanced back into the room.

“How many of them have seen you fall apart? Hmm? How many of them have left you shaking?”

His body holds her against the wall, thighs pressed to hers, his elbow jammed painfully in the sparse space between them where he holds her. 

And Audrey just watches, gaze angled down her nose.

Amused.

Frankie’s a man in a trance as he runs the pad of his thumb over the lush of her bottom lip, hot breath following its path.

“Have they seen the way your mouth falls open when you clench around them? Do they know that you can see these little fucking teeth when you do,” he snarls it, sliding his thumb over her top incisors before slipping it farther to slide over her tongue.

He tastes of lime and ozone.

“How many of them have come in this pretty little mouth, Audrey?” Frankie presses down with his thumb to open it wider. 

She could bite down. She could box his ears and take out an eardrum or both. She could throw a knee into his crotch.

She could scream.

She’s not going to.

Not yet.

But she could. 

He adjusts his grip and his middle finger and thumb dig painfully into the space at the hinge of her jaw and he gives her head a small shake, voice dripping with condescension. “Do you swallow for them, or is that just for me?” 

And it should frighten her. The way her sweet soft Frankie has gone dark. 

The way he’s a hair’s breadth away from squeezing down on her pulse.

The way he could crush her jaw with the strength of his hand alone.

But this? 

This is always there. 

Churning under the surface until it heats enough to boil.

It's what she loves about him.

“Do you let them come inside you too? Let them empty their balls into your hot little cunt and leave you dripping?” He shifts one leg to the outside of hers to press her further into the wall with his body.

And it should terrify her, this being caged in, his fingers jammed hard into her mandible as he spits and seethes with equal parts disdain and infatuation.

“Do they fill you up like I do? With as much as I do?”

The hard line of Frankie’s cock pressed against her hip telegraphs unyielding, sick pleasure.

“Do they fuck you better than I do, Audrey?”

“There is no ‘they’ Frankie.”

“Oh? Well then. Does that man. Out there. Fuck you. Better than I do.” His arm twitches with each sentence, moving her head with it.

She should be ashamed of how wet she is.

“Would you let him come down your throat the way that you let me?” 

And she doesn’t dare give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“I know he doesn’t eat you out the way that I do. Doesn’t make you come on his face.” He presses his nose to her cheek, breathing in the scent of her. “I can tell.”

“But I bet he’d still give it to you. If you wanted him to.”

He doesn’t realize that he’s growling with every breath.

“I don’t want...”

“But would he. Fuck you.” 

“Yes.”

And Frankie’s nostrils flare and a breath hisses through his teeth.

His hold on her tightens.

“Yeah, I bet he would. Because you’re a fuckin’ toy. A pretty little plaything to be used when the need strikes and then…” he trails off. “He’d fuck you but he wouldn’t keep you.”

“Yeah—" he growls.

"I wouldn’t either.”

And Frankie says it because he’s frothing with impotence at what he doesn’t have to offer.

Any one of these men could give her the world. 

They paid $14K just to stand in this room. 

But Frankie wouldn’t keep her because Frankie doesn’t deserve her. 

And Frankie makes it her fault. 

Lashing out at her for the way she consumes him.

And all of this. This is trying to prove himself with his body where the rest of him falls short.

Because it’s all he knows.

The Delta who gave his body to the Stars and Stripes in search of validity and purpose and a place in this world. 

And those colors chewed him up and spat him out tasting like a bad back and a coke problem.

But he’s taken it too far now.

Still gripping hard at her jaw.

And her scorpion’s tongue delivers a barb that sticks right in the spot in his brain where he’s regretted it every moment of his existence since that night.

“You going to strangle me again, Francisco?”

The antidote to his fever.

“No,” the grip on her loosens.

The fight drains through the soles of his feet and back to the earth to be transmuted into something that doesn’t destroy.

He breathes without snarling.

And rests his forehead against hers before taking half a step back.

And she tips her face to hover her lips over his but neither of them move any farther.

They just breathe.

Looking like lovers to anyone who is watching.

She brushes a hand over the napkin slipped into his jacket pocket. “Memorize it. Or don’t. But destroy it either way.”

And Audrey slips from between him and the wall.

Frankie doesn’t move to turn around, instead bracing his forearm against wallpaper, listening to her heels on marble as she returns to the bathroom.

“And Frankie,” she calls over her shoulder, staving off the shattering of her voice. “Please be nice.”

He snorts as he spins and leans heavy against drywall, head thudding backwards. He scrubs a palm down his face and breathes deep, trying to bring himself back to even.

Trying to stave off the panic winding around his organs.

Threatening to constrict.

He has no idea what just happened. 

Frantic fingers scramble for the thing in his pocket.

A napkin that he unfolds. 

An address in Alexandria.

Her address.

He storms off to the gents and into a stall, mentally repeating the numbers and letters until it’s ingrained before he drops it in the toilet bowl. Blue ink bleeds into something illegible before he flushes it away.

His stomach turns and for a moment he thinks tequila is going to follow it. 

Frankie breathes in hard through his nose and out with a hiss, storming out of the stall to splash cold water into his face.

He prays he hasn’t left a bruise.

_____

“You good?” Santi whispers when Audrey slips in beside him.

“Yeah, do I look fine?”

He gives her a quick once-over. “Physically, yes. Spiritually?” Pope tips his glass of tequila towards her hand and she drains it as applause breaks out at the end of another speech.

“He okay?”

“Dunno.”

Santiago casts a look over his shoulder towards the bathrooms.

“Come, let me get you another,” he gently presses an open palm to Audrey's elbow, leading her to the bar. 

“Gin and soda.” Santi knows her and joins. “Two."

Santi knows the two of them well enough to hit on what just happened. "That really spun him up, huh?”

“Never meant to. I’ve known the Major for over twenty years, I came as a favor. He’s one of the few people on earth who knows what I actually do.”

“It’s not a fucking crime to be comfortable around someone," she adds in a soft voice. "I had no idea you were going to be here.”

“Sort of a favor on our end as well.” Santiago slips a tip into the glass jar as the bartender slides over two drinks.

Audrey swallows a sip, letting the ice cold liquid chill her burning stomach.

“I was fucking happy when I saw you both.”

And she sounds like she's about to fracture.

“Hey.”

Santi’s eyes are soft, heavy-lidded as is his way when he’s sincere.

“He’s an idiot when it comes to this.”

She scoffs and takes another sip.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

“That’s very kind Santi, but I can do it myself.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“No.”

“Yeah, your jaw is starting to bruise.”

“Fuck,” and she adjusts her hair to fall where Frankie’s fingers were with Pope calmly directing her movements.

To anyone else they’re making conversation. 

But to anyone who knows, Pope is fuming and Audrey’s a frayed nerve.

And Messerschmitt knows and Messerschmitt would kill for her, but only if she says the word.

And she doesn’t.

“Let’s get you some food, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She has no appetite but she takes the arm Santi offers because he’s the only person Frankie won’t murder tonight and he guides her towards the nearest waiter with a tray of canapés.

For the first time in the two years that he’s known her, Santi realizes that Audrey can’t take care of herself right now. 

She’s unfocused, eyes darting around the room with none of their usual calculated discernment.

Big, liquid things. Fighting the threat of overflow.

Whatever the fuck Frankie just said.

He broke her. 

And so Santiago spends the rest of the night putting his body between her and Fish, and Fish knows that Santi knows something, the shame of it heating the tips of Frankie’s ears.

Audrey doesn’t stick around long after speeches are through.

She takes her leave after wrapping Santiago in a grateful embrace, kissing Messerschmitt on the cheek, and squeezing Frankie’s arm.

He can tell that was for appearances’ sake and he knows better than to follow right after her.

In the end he plays well in the sandbox. So well, in fact that he strikes up a conversation with the Major. They talk of helicopters and Immelmann maneuvers and they bore Santiago enough that he abandons them for a pretty blonde at the bar.

And Catfish shakes Messerschmitt’s hand when he leaves.

But he still doesn’t know his name.

_____

Frankie crawls back to her at midnight like a shamed thing with his tail between his legs.

She opens the door to find his hands stuffed in his pockets, doe eyes back on full display.

And Audrey wishes she hadn’t handed him that napkin.

But she also wishes for the confirmation that he offers now.

That they’re going to be okay.

In their own, fucked up kind of way.

She invites him inside without saying a word and he doesn’t reach out for her as he steps into darkness.

City lights filter in through large windows, but a candle on the coffee table is the only thing lighting his way.

She’s just been sitting in the dark. 

And he stands in her home that he can’t see, somewhere between her living room and her kitchen, watching her move from the bar to the fridge and back again, still clad in her white evening gown.

Like a ghost in the night. 

She hands him tequila and scoops the dregs of her martini off of the coffee table, downing it before heading for the sink.

He catches her arm on the way, holding her on the tips of his fingers, waiting for her to move. 

She stops but doesn’t lean in. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie whispers. 

And the candlelight catches in her eyes when she looks to him.

For my jealously. For what I said. The questions I asked. 

For insinuating that you’re a whore.  

But instead “I’m sorry” is all he repeats on a sigh as he lets her go and to his surprise she reaches to wrap an arm around his neck, pressing her body to his, burying her face in his collar.

It takes him a moment before he holds her back, biceps squeezing around her ribs. 

And feeling bursts from his chest with a sob. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’m sorry,” he kisses against her hairline, seeking forgiveness in her mouth. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” is all he gets in return. “Alone.”

And she leaves Frankie standing backlit by city light, looking for all the world like a man-shaped void in her home.

Frankie thinks he should leave.

He wants desperately to run from this pain of his own creation, slip into drink in his own hotel room and pass out on the floor.

It can’t be that hard to find coke in DC.

And the thought scares him enough to make him stay. 

He forces himself to move on legs of lead to collapse on her couch, screwing the heels of his palms into his eyes, listening to water against tile where she’s left the bathroom door open. 

Audrey returns to him in a black linen robe, wet hair smelling of white flowers. 

Darkness unfurls into night-blooming florals.

The same darkness that dry-rots him from the inside out, leaving nothing but a cloud of cheap blow behind every time something collapses.

And her manicured feet enter Frankie’s frame of view, but he doesn’t look up until she kneels down, reaching her hand to cup his scruffy jaw and tip his face to hers.

He’s crying.

She thumbs one tear from his cheek before it’s replaced with another.

Frankie engulfs her hand with his, turning to press a kiss to her palm.

“We don’t work here, Francisco.”

And she skates around her issue to get to the heart of their issue. 

She’ll deal with herself later.

What they have doesn’t belong here. 

In city lights, where people wear diamonds and Rolexes. Where mistresses and wives are the ones making deals to keep everything running smoothly. 

Here where she moves with practiced ease. 

Here where he’s lost in words that don’t mean what they say and smiles that lash instead of soothe.

Where the air draws cruel things from his throat.

“I know.”

They never intended to bring it here.

“Forgive me.” He whispers.

Forgive me the delusion.

“Forgive me, Audrey.”

Forgive me my words.

“Forgive me,” panted against her mouth, foreheads pressed flush.

Forgive me and show me you still care.

Because I don’t. 

Not about my body, not about my soul, and I might damn them both tonight if you don’t forgive me.

But he’s still asking on his behalf.

“Audrey, please. Please,” he sobs. 

I don’t know why I’m like this.

I don’t know where else to go.

Take me back. To before I bruised.

Bruises that blossom on her jaw now in low light.

But bruises were how they started.

And she takes his hands in her own and leads him to her bedroom where she strips layers from him. Rids him of wool and cotton and lays him in linen sheets.

She fits against his back, arm around a chest that can’t find steady breath. Audrey presses kisses to the back of his neck. Strokes his hair until sleep briefly takes him.

Like the warm body that she is.

And in the night he finds her, heated palms on her stomach, pulling her weight to rest on his hips but she peels his fingers from her skin and rolls back to her side of the bed.

He knows why he came here.

To fix what he’s done but he doesn’t know where to start sewing up the damage. 

He ripped too deep.

And Frankie doesn’t know what else to do but offer his body and allow her to take what she needs.

To allow himself to be a body for her to use after his words and his fingers implied she was the same.

And she knows none of it’s true but she can’t help but feel it.

The love she doesn’t know how to give. 

The family she’ll never have because she knows nothing more than how to bring death into the world.

But from where Frankie lies, tonight what she needs isn’t him.

And it brings a fresh, heaving wave of regret to crash through his chest.

_____

“I was engaged once,” she offers hours later as the blue beginnings of dawn start to light the room because she knows Frankie is still awake behind her.

“To him?”

“To a man more dangerous than you.”

“What h— what happened?”

“We were playing house in a home that was never ours.” 

“We’re brutal things. Where he tries now to atone for his sins, I lean into them. We were never set up to work.”

“What does he do.”

And she doesn’t answer that particular question when she starts again.

“He was a Delta too, once upon a time.”

“What was his name?”

“Spencer.”

And it’s like a gift. Frankie knew of a Spencer who had made rank before him. Knew of the whispers that spread like wildfire through barracks of a ghost of a man who could do the impossible and he wonders if they’re one and the same.

Not unlike the woman in his arms.

“And now?”

“Sometimes we find each other on nights that get too dark. Sometimes we save one another.”

Lives and souls.

“But most times we’re nothing more than memories and whispered wishes in each other’s general directions. Each one of us hoping the other is still alive.”

“He would take you back?”

And Frankie doesn’t understand his fixation on this question, because she’s not his and never claimed to be. 

But pieces of her live in the hearts and beds of other men and he desperately wants all of her for himself.

A wildcat in a cage.

A taxidermied husk with glass eyes.

A pelt to drape himself in.

He doesn’t ever ask if she would have them.

“Everyone would take me back, Frankie,” she pulls the duvet up to her ear.

“Because I’m always the one who leaves.”

“Will you leave me?”

It hangs in the air. Unanswered.

And he knows now.

She will leave.

And he will be another man who holds another piece of her.

And she will continue giving away whatever pieces of her that men will take.

Until there’s nothing left.

Nothing but murmured whispers of a ghost.

And pieces of her memory.

_____

When daylight comes, Frankie blinks hard at where sunrise streams through sheers.

Reaching out for warmth before dread blooms in his chest.

Audrey’s gone. 

It’s her house and she’s gone.

And he bolts from the bed, searching for signs that she’ll return. 

But he finds no note, no text, no sign.

Audrey’s left him.

next

_____

Author's Post Script: Messerschmitt and Spencer are actual characters that I've borrowed to play with for a moment, all credit to their original owners. Feel free to slide your guesses into my DMs if you're so inclined. Or just want to chat after all of that.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @toomanytookas @spookyxsam

Also again taking the risk to tag some lovely folks who have shown interest in this here little story. As always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged:

@tinytinymenace @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @theshensei @iamskyereads @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @soft-persephone @julesonrecord @criticalarchitecture @oliveksmoked @jessthebaker @tanzthompson @youandmeand5bucks @ems-chaos-corner @thethirstwivesclub @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute

Please note that old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted here at Ohforficsake.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

[callsigns-haze]

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 10

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing

Prologue/ Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9

"Joris is dead! MY BROTHER IS DEAD!" Matthews voice, pierced through with pain and anger. You finally stand up and walk over to him and wrap your arms around him. Matthew never lost his composure to not lose his dignity but now he doesn't have a brother and that's a million times worse.

You wrap your arms around him and pull his head down so he could rest it on your shoulder. He obeys and you wrap your fingers in his hair. With your other hand you rub up and down his back softly, as a comfort mechanism, for him to know that you're there.

He lets out sobs and sighs into you. You've never seen the man so wrecked, it crushed you in a way. You didn't want to see him in no pain, no suffer but there he just lost his brother and his father was in hospital, and arrested.

The world fell down on you all.

-----------

"This is unbelievable!" Bradley exclaimed angrily after hearing the in view of Maverick opinion. This really was nonsense. You all just experienced the loss of Phoenix and Bob and a severe murder attempt on Fanboy and Payback.

Someone wired their car so when they turned on the engine, it would explode, and it did exactly that. The two of them were not quick enough to respond but now lay in hospital in a critical state.

It's been less than a week and someone was trying to get rid of all of you. They attempted to kill four already and we're probably going to progress soon, and who knows what would be next.

Maverick was a messenger in this situation. The mission force, alongside of your father, order the daggers all of duty, due to the murders. They believed that this is a whole group murder attempt and nobody knew who next would be the victim of any possible type of murder.

Bradley was furious. He wanted to receive the right to find the murder of his friends and the attempt of murder if fanboy and payback. Jake sat beside you in silence,.his arm was wrapped around you as he pulls you in close to his body. He lays a delicate kiss on the crown of your head and pulls you in deeper.

Nobody knew who next would be attacked…

"Bradley! Maverick has a point! Four of us are already dead there's nothing else we can do about it!" Coyote, shouted at the infuriated man. You guys were done for next and this stupid little game will not go well under this pressure. Everyone kept arguing but you sure have misheard something, it didn't add up and you finally break your ever long silence.

"Javy. What do you mean four?" Everyone looks at you, due to it being the first thing you have said all day and you stare deeply into coyote's eyes, requesting for an answer.

"Fanboy and Payback didn't make it." They were dead. Another bunch of people who suffer the effect if being at the wrong place at the wrong time, around the wrong people. That only left you, Bradley, Javy and Jake.

Jake. Someone could be going to track him down right now and take him from you like the cruel creatures have been doing with the rest of the team.

At this point you couldn't contain it. Everything just keeps topping onto you and at this point you're carrying mountains on your shoulders and couldn't bear it anymore. You walk out while they're still arguing. You can't do this. Everyone around you is slowly getting whipped out. It felt like a nightmare that goes on.

You walk down the halls of the base, quickly trying to get as far away as possible from the meeting room. You needed a space where you could possibly think this whole horrible situation through and make some sense out of it but all you've managed to get is blank spots in your mind.

You're storming around at this point, your legs never carried you so quickly out of the room. You slowly begin to gain thoughts. Trying to figure out how each situation occurred and how you could get a sense of security interlined in it.

You turn left, then once again your legs carry you to a corridor on the left and then you take a right but you smash bodies with the person going the opposite direction. It causes you to stumble, having to take some set backs as they look at you.

Matthew.

"What do y-" You were about to start off with the cruel and cold answer but his french accent caught you off and simply said. "Look, I'm sorry for the loss this week." Hee knows about the deaths.

Truly everyone at this point knows but the difference is that Matthew is saying his condolences and that's got you a tiny bit stunned. Ok…that tiny but is approximately the size of a big black hole in space but we skip that fact.

You look him up and down, about to thank him for his words of sorrow but he simply continued his sentence. "…but truly they should've seen it coming…a snake always slithers."

He walks on, leaving you there standing all stunned and in total shock to his comment and you were overwhelmed previously. Your breaths began to get heavier and your lungs began to close up. Panic went over you. Matthew knew something you don't.

----

"So you gonna run now?" You ask Olivia, or should you say Emma. She did what she wanted. She ruined the family, but didn't exactly kill them. She trusted you for some reason you didn't know off, that's the reason she didn't try and kill you.

"What choice do I have?" Valid point. She didn't manage to kill Chevalier but putting him behind bars meant he could still get revenge, through colleagues and his sons, which only could be done by Matthew.

She packs her last bag, slipping the hoodie in before carefully closing the suitcase over after adjusting the elastics. She zipped the zipper to its max and placed the suitcase down.

"What are you going to do?" She asked you out of pure interest where your roads will lead you now. Your work wasn't done, your chapter here wasn't finished all you needed to do is figure out what is left.

"Well, it'll take Matthew a long time to recover but hey…a wife has to stay with her husband" She simply nods to that before walking over to you and stopping with the smallest inches in between you. "What about your baby?"

You looked at her comment in shock and in fear. You hadn't a clue what she was on about and I say your facial expression showed that, "What baby?"

"Anyone can tell, honey. It's been getting quite obvious."

----

Current taglist:

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[rorywritesjunk]

Let’s be one another’s present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: Soft NC-17 for this chapter. Warning: Communication is a THING. These two are trying. Buggy is mopey. They're working on it, okay. Talks of sex, some touching happens, Cupcake needs her man. A/N: Still dealing with relationship stuff.

Title comes from “Crater Lake” by Lady Lamb

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby @fluffybunnyu @sinning-23 @the-angriest-angel @ane5e @fanshavegottensotoxic @honey-deerling

Chapter 13

The two of you took a ‘break’ from what you had been up to for a month, instead going back to more simple sex. Buggy still thought writing up scripts was the way to go, but you were neutral on the idea. While you understood where he was coming from as it was to make you more comfortable, it felt like maybe some of the fun and spontaneity was taken out of it, which you told him when he brought it up again one night, leading to an argument.

“It’s for your benefit!” He insisted as he held out the blank sheets of paper to you. “I don't want you upset again!”

“Buggy, I appreciate it but I don't think it's going to work!” You told him from your spot on the bed, refusing to take the stack from him. “Why does it have to be a script? Why can't we just write out some things that are not okay to say?”

“Becaaaaause!” He whined pitifully. “What if I upset you again? Baby, I don't want to make you cry!”

“If we talk things out we’ll be okay.” You sighed as he pouted at you. He looked silly, face still full of makeup, hair pulled back in his bandana, lips pouty as he looked down at you with the papers in his hand. He kept trying to get you to take it from him, which you knew if you did it meant the possibility of him wanting to write out extravagant scenes of sex that could either be incredibly cringy or incredibly arousing, you weren't sure.

“Okay, okay, here's my suggestion.” You finally said. “We can try it once and if it ends up working then great, but if it doesn't we don't do it. How does that sound, babe?”

Buggy stopped pouting long enough to think it over. He could win you over with the idea, he just had to make sure the first time was perfect. He didn't want to be the reason you cried.

“Okay, fine.” He agreed. “I'm going to write the most mind blowing sex scene for us, babe. You will be begging me to fuck you.”

“I kinda already do, Buggy.” You reminded him. “Frequently, I might add.”

~

You knew Buggy had focus when he wanted it and right now he was the most focused you'd ever seen him since meeting him and you were the center of it. He was laying on the bed on his stomach, kicking his feet as he stared at you with a stack of paper in front of him, scribbles, words, things crossed out were scattered across them as he chewed on the end of his pencil while you sat back against the headboard knitting a hat. It was evening, the two of you dressed down for the night with him in boxers and you wearing one of his shirts to sleep in. It wasn't worth sleeping naked in case either of you had to get up in the middle of the night for an emergency.

“Might as well illustrate what you wanna do, babe, since you've been staring at me for so long.” You said, not looking up from your project. “ What are you planning in that head of yours?”

“Oh, you'll find out.” He grinned, reaching over with the pencil to tap you on the foot lightly. “You'll love it.”

You glanced over at him, nudging his arm with your foot gently. He grabbed it and kissed the top of it before he returned to his papers.

“You like me being fearsome, so I gotta make sure I'm like that for you.” Buggy said as he wrote some things down. “And I love what you do for me, y’know, all that shit you say. The filth that comes out of your pretty mouth is so surprising, babe.”

“Aw, well, I'm glad I can surprise you.” You grinned, setting the knitting aside before stretching out on the bed in front of him, laying on your side as you propped your head up on your hand. “So, what do you have so far, Buggy?”

He looked at you, down at the scribbled pages, then back at you. “Nothing… yet! Art takes time, babe, you can't rush the process!’

“Okay, okay.” You chuckled softly. “Just let me know what you need.”

Buggy shrugged as he looked back down at his papers. He just wanted it to be perfect. He didn't want to see you upset like that again. He didn't mean to upset you that day; a month had passed but it felt like yesterday. He was determined to make sure you two could still continue what you had been doing but without anyone feeling put out. With a sigh he wrote some things down again before tapping the pencil against the paper.

“Would it help if you said out loud what you wanted to write?” You suggested. “I won't say anything, I'll just listen.”

He shrugged again, crossing something out again as he mumbled, “I just want it to be perfect.”

“Babe, I love you and I'll love whatever you write out, okay?” You assured him. “It's not like we’re going to have an audience, y’know, so don't worry.”

“Still.” He frowned and crossed his arms in front of him, resting his head on them. “Just want it to be perfect.”

You sighed and reached over to run your fingers through his hair gently. This was something you had been worried about, that he would stress about it more than he needed to. You got up and crawled over to him, pushing him onto his back before settling on his thighs. He looked up at you curiously, his hands moving to rest on your thighs as you placed your hands on top of his.

“Here's the thing, babe. I love when you fuck me.” You started to tell him as your fingers laced with his as you looked down at him. “You are sweet, gentle, and caring and I love that about you. And I also love it when you're rough and when you tell me all the things you'd do to me if only we had time.” You grinned down at him. You always loved seeing him under you. “Y’know, about making sure I can't walk for a few days, how you'd fuck me ‘til I'm seein’ stars and your name is the only one I'd know after you're done wrecking me.”

“Fuck, Cupcake-”

“Yes?” You pulled your hand free from his and reached down to touch his cheek. “I can stop if you want. Just let me know, okay?”

“Mm, no, no, it's fine, just…” He turned his head to kiss your palm softly. “Give me a sec, babe.”

You nodded, stroking his cheek softly as you moved your other hand to his chest, sliding your palm over his chest slowly, running your fingers through his chest hair, occasionally tugging at some of it. 

“I love you, Buggy.” You murmured as he nodded, taking a deep breath before he sat up suddenly, arm wrapping behind your back to keep you from losing your balance from his movements. Your hands went to his shoulders, steadying yourself as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“You fuckin’ better.” He growled, catching you by surprise. He grinned, keeping you close as you stared at him. “Aw, babe, did I startle you? You thought you had me all relaxed and cozy under you, thinking you were in charge.” 

“Yea, um-”

“Shh, shh, don't talk, baby.” He murmured, tightening his hold on you as his free hand moved between your bodies and between your legs. “This is okay, yea? Tell me this is okay.”

“You um, just told me not to talk, Buggy.” You assured him, digging your nails into his shoulders as his fingers dipped between your folds. You had opted not to wear underwear, just out of laziness, and you were glad you didn't. “But, um, this is okay, really.”

“Good.” Buggy grinned as he touched you, teasing you just enough that you were squirming in his lap. “What should I do to you, hm? Keep touching you like this, or should I watch you fuck yourself on my cock while I sit back and watch?”

“Oh fuck.” Honestly, you didn't care. He was touching you so carefully, fingers circling your clit, brushing over your entrance, the gentlest of touches, when really you just wanted him to get to fucking you. You let your head drop onto his shoulder, letting out a pitiful whine before he was tutting and shaking his head.

“No, no, I need to see your gorgeous face.” He scolded gently. “Cupcake, baby, do I need to back you into a corner to get you to look at me?”

“Gimme a second, Buggy!” You huffed at him, digging your nails into his skin as he pressed his finger in slowly. “J-Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ this.”

He grinned, his hand still while you took a deep breath. You didn’t anticipate this happening, but you weren’t complaining. You just wanted him to relax, to stop worrying about every little thing, and if him taking charge like this and teasing you until you wanted to scream then fine, you could cope with him slowly pushing his finger in, barely to the second knuckle, whispering to you how much he loved you, that you meant the world to him, that he was going to fuck you slow tonight, take his time for sure until you were a mess underneath him.

And he did pull his hand back to flip you onto your back, looking down at you. Buggy had no filter. He couldn’t stop himself as he looked at you, wearing his shirt, spreading your legs for him. He suddenly blurted out, “Will you marry me?”

That was not what you were expecting to hear.

[stromuprisahat]

Abusers’ responses to a possible breakup

Siege and Storm- Chapter 19

Ghosting, simmering and icing are colloquial terms that describe the practice of suddenly ending all communication and avoiding contact with another person without any apparent warning or explanation and ignoring any subsequent attempts to communicate. ... The term has also expanded to refer to similar practices among friends, family members, employers and businesses. The most common cause of ghosting in a personal relationship is to avoid emotional discomfort in a relationship. A person ghosting typically has little acknowledgment of how it will make the other person feel. Ghosting is associated with negative mental health effects on the person on the receiving end and has been described by some mental health professionals as a passive-aggressive form of emotional abuse or cruelty.

But, but Mal DID tell Alina he's done with her! They had an argument!

One-sided, in which he didn't care about what SHE has to say. And once he has time to cool down, he proceeds with the method described above. If we're acting as if their co-dependence should be labelled relationship, decision to end it shouldn't be made by a single party during a temper tantrum with no input tolerated from the other side.

Not to mention they're supposed to be friends so close they're almost like a family. Do I need to write this isn't how you treat either?!

Pathetic. Of course he has to be regularly getting drunk and into fights. He's a manly man- how else would he express his emotions? What else would daily remind Alina, what she did to him?

Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men (Lundy Bancroft)

When hangover and beaten? Aren't we still pretending he's representing Alina?! That he's fit to PROTECT HER, when needed?!

And Malyen's punishment for her lack of enthusiasm works splendidly.

Alina's own issues already made her stay away from other Grisha, she's drowning in tasks she isn't qualified for, and Malyen's silent treatment isolates her further.

I'm sure it will make her realize how ungrateful she has been. How a little more effort on her part isn't such a terrible price for some company.

Perhaps now she would agree to that target practice.

[maggyme13]

Moving above the Underground (9/?)

Ellie just moved into a new flat. Introducing herself to her downstairs neighbor with a cake she did not realize what the future held for her and him. And what had an asshole coworker to do with it?

AN: welcome welcome to a new chapter :P Sorry for the delay. Life is hell atm

Don´t like-> Don´t Read, Minors DNI

Warning: angst, abuse /torture

Wordcount: around 2.4k

Masterlist

Series-Masterlist

Part 8

Ellie hadn´t felt that recovered since the guest had come to visit but there was no time to relax if she wanted to finish the order in time for his departure.

And so she had been in her small workshop since her early-rising husband had left to do whatever Mr. Silver had ordered him to do that day preparing cherry and burly maple wood for the first orders she had to make.  At some point, Tucker had appeared with some food but being in a flow she had skipped lunch and continued working until she was startled by someone hugging her from behind. Someone smaller than her husband.

“Your cake was as delicious as always.”, Alejandro grinned, “Saw Boss eat two pieces. So what are you doing all alone down here? Did the boss give you trouble so you have to skip eating?”

“You scared me.”, Ellie sighed, her heart still stumbling over itself from being startled, “What can I do for you? Hiding from responsibilities?”

“Sorry about that! I just wanted to see how you are doing. Sy mentioned you were stressed. So what are you creating now?”

“Two jewelry boxes and a fitting bureau.”, she answered stretching her back in the process.

“You know, if you ever feel bored, my Office at the Wonderland could need an overhaul. Reminds me too much of the old one in charge.”

“Ask me in a month or so. I have my work cut out until the guest leaves. I have to build three bars like the one we added to his suit, a new office table and a minibar like Mr Silver has in his office.”

“That´s why are you not eating? You know your body needs fuel to function.”, the man asked with a worried look, he had noticed the ice-cold and untouched food standing on her little break table.

“No. I lost track of time. Guess I should go to the kitchen and get something to eat though.”, she frowned, not at all happy she had to leave her little paradise.

“I brought some cake. It´s not as good as yours, but better than nothing I guess. I also have some fresh hot tea and coffee. If you want.”, Alejandro wiggled his eyebrows, earning himself a small laugh from Ellie.

“Why not? Grab yourself a seat, and if you have time afterward you can help me with some heavy lifting. I need to calibrate the tabletop and get the slaps for the bar backgrounds from the bottom of the piles over there. Only if you want to of course.”

“My muscles are your muscles.”, he winked.

The following three hours or so Alejandro spent helping his best friend's wife all the while peppering her with questions both about herself and about the work she was doing. It fascinated him how one could use a dead tree and turn it into all kinds of things that were not limited to firewood.

“Sy hit the Jackpot with you. You cook, are easy on the eyes, and are not afraid to work. Maybe I should try to find me a woman in the trades as well- what about that girl you were at the Wonderland with those two times… What was her name? Jacky?”

“Well, she moved to Sweden for work.”, Ellie mumbled, not daring to add also that she would never want her friend to be pulled into the darkness as well. She had to go low contact after being given to Sy as a wife. At least she had managed to talk him into allowing her to contact her friend once in a while. As to not cause suspicion.

“Weren´t you supposed to finish the Guestlist for the upcoming event at the Wonderland?”, Sy´s deep voice rumbled from the door.

“Why, jealous I spent some time with your Wife and helped her with my muscles?”, Alejandro joked but held up his arms in surrender when his friend sent him a glare, “Well, guess I will leave and do my boring job. A pleasure as always Ellie.”

“I- He said he had nothing to do, I -”, the woman whispered, as if she was scared she had done something to anger the man standing there.

“You did nothing wrong. Come on. I need you to wash up and get dressed in something casual but presentable.”, Sy sighed, the last thing he wanted was to stress her out even more than she already was. Not when he had to tell her he was to leave on a work-related trip for at least two weeks and she had to stay at the villa. Alone.

“Where are we going?”, she wondered when he guided her to his car in the garage an hour later.

“I booked us a table at an Asian restaurant. Hope you are still hungry. Noticed you did not eat the food Tucker brought you.”

“Sorry- I know I need to eat.”

“Good. Now enjoy your food.”, he hummed, the entree had just been served.

“You know, this is the first time we go out to eat. It- it is like the first date we never had.”, Ellie whispered when they both were finished with their main courses.

“Looks like it.”, he mumbled, only then realizing she was right, “A second one will need to wait though I fear. Have to leave for two to three weeks for work. You are going to stay at the villa and finish your work. I´ll have to take most of my men with me. So if you need help you will need to ask Alejandro again.”

“Oh, Okay. Thank you for telling me, I- how...”, she stumbled over her words, a slight fear growing in her heart, what if she did something wrong?

“No need for fear. Just act the same way you do when I am around. No one should bother you about anything apart from some small repairs. I can tell the kitchen to bring you food to our room if you are not comfortable with eating with everyone else while I am gone.”

And that was what she did.

Each morning she was up at seven am, got herself a prepared breakfast tray with a thermos flak with some tea,  left for her workshop where she would work on the orders until lunchtime rolled around and eat the packed luncheon that had been on the tray in the morning. Then after a break of around an hour, Ellie continued with either the started projects or planned upcoming ones and/or ordered Parts and materials before preparing the workshop for the next day, cleaning up, and leaving to return to their room with a quick stop at the kitchen where she would switch her morning tray with a dinner one she would place outside their room after finishing. After Dinner, a hot shower waited for her and then she tried to relax before going to sleep and starting the whole circle the next morning again.

Until that circle was broken two days before Sy was supposed to be back. Ellie was just planning a slap of Canadian Maple when a giant hand got a hold of her shoulder while another turned off the plane causing the wood to get stuck and ruined.

“Why-”, she turned around to the owner of the hand and froze. Her frustration and confusion about the slap were immediately forgotten. Behind her, the man who had searched her the day of her marriage stood with a dark glint in his eyes.

“Times up Bitch.”, and with these words he slung her over his shoulder and left her workshop. Confused, and honestly scared, she did neither scream nor struggle. Only when they walked past Alejandro, whose eyes turned big but could not intervene cause the giant growled a “Bosses orders”, did she let out a short whine.

“Take a seat.”, he laughed just when she was thrown onto an old wooden chair, “Welcome to your new home.” Her arms and legs were bound to the armrests and in the end, only her head could be moved.

“Now you will answer some questions I have. And please try and lie. I wanted to have some fun since the day in the office, but Captain stole that from me.”, he breathed in her face, head tilting from left and right and back left with a sinister grin in his eyes and mouth.

“I -I won´t lie.”, she answered, her eyes not focusing on his face afraid of what they would see.

“We´ll see about that. Now, please tell me who you are.”

“Ellie Syverson. B-born Miller.” “What is your profession Ms Miller?”, he continued, using her Maiden name to play her subconsciousness into a fright response. Not that it was needed, his presence alone was doing that just fine.

“I am a skilled Woodworker, a- and working f-for Mr Silver.”

“And? What else do you do Ms Miller?”

She frowned upon that question. What was he playing at?

“N-nothing, Sir.”

*BAM* her head painfully turned to the left. He had just slapped her with a lot of strength.

“Who else do you work for?”

“N-no one. I am do-doing some woodwork for t-the VIP, b-but that was in Mr Silvers o-order.”, she flinched. Her ears still rang from the impact and stars flowered before her eyes.

This time she was punched in the stomach and bile immediately rose in her throat.

“You know, I believed you were smarter than lying to me. But it seems your Husband was too lax on you and did not teach you proper respect.” Another punch in her gut followed, “Now, I will leave you some time to think and then I am sure you will tell me the truth. Or I will have some more fun.”

Total darkness surrounded her once the man had left. Darkness that only seemed to make the pain worse.

Ellie was sure she had never felt pain like that before, but she soon learned that it could be much worse: Three times he returned with the same questions, and three times he left with her in worse and worse pain. Dried blood covered her face and neck from the cuts and broken nose he had left. Her wrists and ankles were sore from where the ropes cut into them, and her shoulder was at least bruised from where she had landed on it that one time he had slapped her so hard the chair had toppled over. But as it did so, the woodworker realized one thing: it was old and not well maintained. The joinery of the armrests was loose and could break any day now. Knowing she still had her screwdrivers, folding rule, and punch in her trousers, Ellie began to wriggle and move her right arm to get the joinery to give up totally. And after a lot of effort, it did. Now able to more or less freely move her right arm and hand, she managed to get a hold of her tools and began freeing herself.

A short painful laugh of irony left her throat. Her escaping could have been avoided if they had given her the chair to repair. Now she would at least die fighting. At least like that the pain and fear of what would happen would stop.

Curled up in the farthest corner she could reach in total darkness she waited for her fate to step through the door.

The loud echo of a door slamming against old stone walls pulled her out of the exhausted rest that had taken over. A huge dark silhouette stood in the doorway. A silhouette she realized a moment later was her husband. A husband Ellie just threw herself at another moment later, her body shaking from the relieved sobs, seeking his warmth and comfort.

“Let´s get you back to our room.”, he rumbled not doing anything until he felt her nod against his chest. Only then did he lift his wife into his bridal style and carry her through hallways and upstairs until he stepped into their bathroom.

“Allow me to help.”, he hummed hoping she would not push him away for failing to protect her, but he would understand and accept it. No matter how painful that would be for him.  Again she only gave a short nod against his chest, got on one knee ( she sitting on it), and carefully and methodically removed her dirty work clothes. Purposefully not giving much attention to the state of her skin. His attention had to be solely on that task and not drifting away to plan revenge and pain. With her stripped, he shed his outer layers just enough to now cause discomfort to her when showering together and then stepped beneath the warm shower with her in his arms.

Sy used his larger frame to shield her sensitive and bruised skin from the pressure of the water, how little it might be, and gently soaped down her body and hair, being especially careful not to get soap into the open rashes where she must have been bound.

“I have to see if your stomach is only bruised or worse. This will hurt. I am sorry.”, he stated, he hat lifted Ellie´s face so he could see into her puffy, red, and tear-filled eyes. His heart broke seeing the pained and broken look in them.

“Okay.”, she whispered, knowing it was for the best, and if he knew how to do so, she would rather have him do it than some stranger (at a hospital). If she was honest, she only wanted to sleep and hopefully forget the pain. Jolts of pain went through her innards whenever his fingers pressed down on an area, and once or twice a hiss of that pain left her throat.

“Sorry.”, she whispered when he stopped for the tenth time because of her flinching or hissing.

“Don´t be. I have some ointment that will help with the bruises and tomorrow we leave and go home.”, he promised, his voice heavy with his pain and fury, “Would you like some painkillers?”

“Yes, please. W-will you stay with me?”

“If you want me to.”, he hummed glad that she could still seek comfort with him.

“Yes, please.”

“Then let´s get you dry, dressed, and settled to rest.”

Two hours later Ellie´s body had finally given in the exhaustion and she lay curled against his body, fists clenching his shirt with all her might, but still not looking at peace.

Rest for him, Sy knew, would only come once the bastard who did that got what he deserved and her body and mind was healed.

Part 10

AN: Thank you all for reading:)

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[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 1

This is a WIP story. I do have an idea where it'll go, but I would love suggestions or ideas on what you think might happen next. Perhaps it could be a community lead story?

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Contains : Female reader, very brief mention of sex, threat of violence, mention of death.

Word count - 2647

Hope you enjoy chapter 1!

For the other parts, click below.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

----------

Brilliant sunshine beats down over the grand city of Nueva York. The month is June and the weather is perfect. The beautiful tall white structures of this futuristic skyline reflect the solar rays, like large white beacons beaming up from the ground.

Nestled amongst a collection of high-rise buildings, is a large penthouse. A home to a powerful man, not in politics, but in the criminal world.

It is the morning and the man in question sits quietly on the patio of his penthouse. The gentle sounds of the swimming pool lapping against the edges fills the air as a cool breeze ruffles his dark brown hair. Despite it being early, he’s already dressed in a long sleeve shirt rolled up to his elbows, waistcoat and suit trousers. He reads the news on a tablet under the shade of a parasol, his expression a wicked grin.

“The mega corporation Alchemax has released a statement reporting several employees have disappeared over the last few weeks.

They claim it began with scientists not coming in for work and now employees further up the hierarchy are also reported to be missing.

We spoke to Mrs Garcia, the wife of a missing employee from Alchemax…”

His peace and quiet is interrupted by a young girl's voice.

“Papa!” calls the girl. “Good morning papa.” The sound of the patio door sliding shut indicates she is coming out to see him.

He turns to greet her and places the tablet on the glass table.

“Buenos dias, mija,”(Good morning darling) he says softly to his daughter as his strong arms envelopes her in a cuddle.

She pulls away from her father’s embrace and puts on her puppy-dog expression with her big brown eyes, looking directly into his.

“Papa, can you come with me to school this morning? she asks sweetly.

Her father sighs. He has a busy day ahead of him.

“Mija-” he begins to protest.

“It’s you know what day and I want to spend some time with you,” she interjects, maintaining that sweet pleading face.

The man frowns. Today marks the fifth anniversary of his wife’s death. Five years his daughter, Gabriella, has been without a mother.

His daughter is the apple of his eye and when she pulls a face like that, he can’t refuse her - especially on a day like today. Gabriella will be ten years old in a few months but she seems so grown up already. He’s thankful she doesn’t abuse her power over him too much as he doesn’t want to spoil her more than he usually does.

“Alright mija, okay. Go get your bag and we’ll stop by the cafe and grab some muffins before school. Sound good?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Her face lights up with excitement, flashing a brilliant, white toothy smile.

“Si, papi!” she replies excitedly and runs back inside to go get her things.

***

The father and daughter duo sit together in a small black limo, at the back of a short line of the same coloured cars - all of which belong to him. They drive in convoy to the school.

He sits quietly, staring out of the window after eating the sweet blueberry muffin he had bought from the cafe he’s a regular at. Gabriella is taking her time eating hers, savouring every delicious mouthful.

“Papa…” she breaks the silence as the limo gently turns a corner.

“Si, mija?” he responds, preparing himself for another request or strange question. He can tell by the sound of her voice she is about to ask something unusual.

Gabriella swallows another mouthful of her muffin as a crumb or two tumbles down her top.

“Do you think you’ll marry again?”

Yep, there it is… He turns his head to look at his daughter.

“I’m too busy to look for a new wife,” he begins. “Besides, I want to spend my rare free time with you,” he continues as he gently nudges his fist against her shoulder making her giggle.

“I know papa, but I want you to be happy,” she finally replies before taking her final mouthful of her delicious treat.

Her father tilts his head at her response, his eyebrow raised.

“I am happy.”

Gabriella shakes her head gently as if she doesn’t believe him.

“No, you’re not papa…”

His daughter is right, but he would never admit that to her. He didn’t want her to worry, but it seems she already is. The man’s heart melts at her concern for his happiness. The last five years had been a blur. Losing his wife was a heavy loss for both he and Gabriella. After at least a year of mourning and processing her sudden, untimely death, he started to put his plan for revenge in motion.

Since his wife’s passing he did get involved with other women when he felt ready; but they were only for sexual relief and never considered them as a potential partner. He lost interest in them when they tried to use him for his money.

The man’s gaze rests on his daughter. His hand idly plays with her ponytail, wrapping the ends of her soft dark brown hair around his fingers.

“I’ll consider it mija,” he pauses as he ponders. “I need to find someone first, someone worthwhile - pretty hard in my line of work.”

The convoy of black cars pull up outside Gabriella’s school. The man gently grabs his daughter’s hand before she leaves the car, causing her to look back at him.

“Have a good day at school mija,” he says as he leans forwards and kisses her forehead. “You got your necklace?”

Gabriella pats her shirt, something lay underneath it against her chest and she nods with a smile.

He returns her smile and pats her shoulder.

“Good girl, you know what to do… I just hope it’s never necessary,” he replies as he takes her bag and hands it to her.

Through the tinted windows, he watches his daughter be escorted into the school building. Her question repeats in his mind and a frown grows across his lips. She must be lonely and in need of a mother figure back in her life. Has he been too engrossed in his plan for revenge? Perhaps he’s lost sight of the more important things in life? But he had made so much progress, he couldn’t just drop it and leave things be now. Leaning back in his car seat, he sighs and closes his eyes.

The window separating himself and the chauffeur opens up, disturbing his deep thought.

“Where to, Mr. O’Hara?” the driver asks, looking over his shoulder into the back of the limo.

The look of a doting father leaves his face, and out comes the mask of the stern and dangerous mafia boss. A dark, dangerous expression on his face.

“The Web,” he replies as he watches his daughter’s escort return to the convoy of cars.

He is shut off from the chauffeur once more and the collection of cars start to roll forward. The Web is his underground base of operations, a place where people who cross him are locked away, a place where those missing Alchemax employees await their fate. He pulls out his phone and begins to type a message to a contact named Lyla.

“Get them ready,” his thumbs type out on the screen.

***

You are walking down the sidewalk, several school buses pass you during the rush hour traffic. Carrying a coffee in a large cup you’re heading back to your car. A message from your employer you had received on your phone, told you to hang around outside the school and look for a convoy of black cars, without any explanation. After the bright yellow school buses clear, a squad of cars matching that description drives past your parked vehicle. The limo catches your eye most of all, however the tinted windows didn’t allow you to see who is inside.

Wrenching your door open, you slide in and place your coffee cup in the holder between the front seats. Your seatbelt clicks as it fastens after you hastily pull it across you. Starting the car, you pull out of your parking space and follow the convoy several vehicles behind to keep a healthy distance.

Pulling up somewhere quiet in the city, you watch the black cars snake their way around another corner, slowing to a stop. You don’t want to be seen so you hang back, in the shadows between the high rise buildings. Getting out of your car, you take in your surroundings as you creep closer to the convoy you were following. It seems to be a regular business area of the city. Many multistory buildings are full of people working away. Cafes lined the street, serving people their morning coffee before starting their regular nine to five jobs.

Before ducking behind a wall, you spot a man stepping out of the limo. His long jacket drapes over his shoulders as he strides into an alley, followed by men from the other cars in the convoy.

Sliding your phone out of your pocket, you begin snapping away, taking pictures of the man leading the small group of sharply dressed people who came out of the convoy of cars. Beeps from a number pad rang out as this stern looking man punched in a code. A door clicks open and the group disappears inside.

***

Stepping into the building from the alley, Mr. O’Hara is met with a lift with doors on opposite sides. The elevator sinks down into the ground once everyone is in and the door is closed. A ding pierces the silence inside the lift and the sliding doors draw open.

A well dressed, strawberry blond woman stands at the other side of the doors, waiting to greet her boss. She carries a tablet displaying his schedule for the day. As Mr. O’Hara emerges from the lift, she walks alongside him, keeping up with his large strides.

“Morning Miguel,” she greets him with a light and airy voice.

“Morning Lyla,” he starts, “are they ready to talk?” His voice is a low growl and his expression full of determination.

Lyla chortles as she looks at her tablet. Her footsteps are faster than his as she is over a foot shorter than him.

“They may need a little convincing,” she replies with a grin.

As Miguel continues to walk along a dark corridor, he holds his hand out as he passes another member of his gang. Tall, incredibly slim, dressed in a suit with big, black dreadlocked hair, the man silently hands Miguel a baseball bat and walks after him.

“One of them will squeal, I’m sure,” Mr. O’Hara says as he casually taps the bulbous end of the bat against his palm, an evil smirk spreads across his face.

Down a few flights of stairs, deeper underground, Miguel approaches a heavy door and punches another code into a number pad. The sound of a heavy bolt sliding away from the door means he can open it.

“Hobie, join me inside, Lyla, reschedule my morning appointments, I might be a while,” he ordered.

Four men sat on wooden chairs with their hands tied behind their backs in a wide empty room. There is one large cabinet to the right but it is locked shut, keeping its several nasty implements used to help encourage people to start talking.

All four captives look up at the two new people entering the room, with tired eyes and fed up expressions. Some have been there longer than others.

“Which one of you miserable lot is Mr. Garcia?” The taller of the two sharply dressed men asked.

Miguel watches carefully to see which one responds to his name. He sees a scientist wearing a grubby lab coat gulp hard as he is preparing to speak. Approaching the shaking man, he points the end of the baseball bat right into the captive man’s face.

“You?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Mr. Garcia nods nervously and winces at how close the bat is to his visage.

Lowering the potential lethal weapon he points the end to the floor and rests his weight on the handle, leaning over it and peering into the scientist’s eyes.

“Please excuse me for not visiting sooner, I’ve been a busy man gathering information,” Miguel begins. “It appears that I’ve hit a snag on something and I’m in need of assistance, Mr. Garcia.”

The lab technician blinks in anticipation, his breath faltering at the intense stare burning into his retinas.

“Do you think you’re going to cooperate today?” the mafia boss asks with a smug smirk growing across his face.

“I- I’ll do the best I can, sir.” Mr. Garcia stutters in fear.

Remaining in position, leaning his weight on the handle of the baseball bat, he begins his questions.

“I need a name. The name of the man who contracted your team to do some work five years ago. Ring any bells, Mr. Garcia?” the towering man asks with a raised eyebrow.

A tired, shaky sigh left the captive’s lips. He dips his head low before replying. 

“I signed a contract to not speak a word of what we worked on or divulge any information about who hired us - I’m sorry…”

Miguel growls impatiently and begins to slowly circle the lab technician tied to his chair.

“My darling wife worked in your team, remember her?” he asks, resting the baseball bat on his shoulder. Fierce eyes watching intently at the quivering scientist. “She too signed that contract and took the secret of the man responsible to her grave. Do you want the same fate, Mr Garcia?”

“Sir, my job and life will be in danger if I tell y- ah!” The scientist yelps when Miguel loses his patience and strikes the back left wooden chair leg with the baseball bat, knocking it clean off; collapsing the chair backwards. Mr. Garcia fell painfully in a heap, his tied arms stuck underneath him and the back of his chair.

“You’re in danger now!” the mafia boss yells angrily as he completes his slow circle, watching a groaning Mr. Garcia like a hawk.

“Next thing I hit will be your leg, making sure to break your femur. Perhaps you should reconsider where your loyalties lie, nerd.” He crouches down next to a shaking and whimpering mess.

“I know you have a wife, and she’s very worried about you-” Miguel is interrupted by the scientist’s sudden outburst.

“Please! Don’t- don’t touch her!” Mr. Garcia pleads desperately, pulling at his restraints.

A wicked grin spreads across the mafia boss’s face and chuckles darkly.

“Then I suggest you start talking…” he growls, standing up and playfully tapping the bat against his palm again.

“Kingpin! His name is Kingpin!” the lab technician splutters urgently.

The smirk on Miguel’s lips grows wider and teasingly rests the baseball bat on Mr. Garcia’s top half of his leg.

“What about his actual name?”

A fresh, desperate whimper erupts from the captive man’s lips.

“I don’t know! I swear! I promise I would tell you if I knew!”

With a nod, Miguel pulls the bat away. He believes Mr. Garcia. If he was Kingpin doing something shady, he’d use an alias too.

“Hobie, take this man, do what we usually do with the lucky ones, and then make sure he and his wife are under my protection,” the mafia boss orders, tapping the bat against his palm once more as he paces the room.

The slim gang member steps forward and hoists the shaking scientist to his feet. With a silent nod to his boss, he escorts a whimpering Mr. Garcia out of the room.

“Now, what part of all three of you shall I send to Kingpin in the mail?”

The solid door closes behind Hobie and Mr. Garcia, dampening the screams coming from inside.

----------

Part 2

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

Man-Sized

6/9 We Appreciate Power

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

If one thing was sure with Simon, it was that he was never quite what he seemed.

It turned out that he was in a relationship for the first time since his twenties. He had a whole bunch of protocols, one of them being that he didn't date, didn't do relationships, didn't get attached. He said it was the usual approach in his line of work, but she didn't quite buy it. Other personnel and some of his teammates had partners, even children. She dared to believe that Simon was breaking his rules for her.

Simon was far more invested in people's lives than he would ever have cared to admit. But even if he appeared to harbor a tendency to protect those who could not do it for themselves, he didn't treat her like she was a helpless damsel. She was sure he would, after The Incident and especially after The Revelation, aka trauma dump. But it only felt like he had gotten more evidence of her toughness, her survival skills.

The more she learned about his past, the more she began to realize that he had a soft spot for the weak and suffering. He made no big deal out of it, but in her eyes, he was a hero for having saved his brother from drug addiction and beating his father close to death for everything he had done. Even the Puranic stories knew that demons needed to be punished, not forgiven; it was their only chance for redemption. To her, Simon was Krishna wrestling down Asuras who tormented innocents. He used his father's curse of anger for good.

And he didn't make her decisions for her. She wondered if things with her were much like with Soap: Simon let them both fuck around while he did the backup from a distance.

And another thing was that you never had a dull moment with Simon. Because one lazy Saturday morning, a week before Christmas, a ghost appeared in her hallway.

"Jesus Christ…!"

She had just brushed her teeth, but when she opened the bathroom door she was met with a huge masked man standing only a few feet away, just in front of her front door.

All the remnants of sleep vanished instantly. Her heart stopped beating for a moment, then slammed against her ribs as she saw the faded skull print on the black balaclava.

"Fuck." Her hand had shot to her chest, and she was sure every hair in her body was standing on end. But of course Simon only found the whole situation entertaining.

"Haven't heard that in a while."

He was dressed differently this time, introducing her to the professional soldier who was, even without the load of war gear, intimidating. She knew that he was a tall man, tall and broad, but now he seemed to shrink the entire hallway. The black cargo pants, waterproof jacket, padded, fingerless gloves and military boots could only be described as tactical — he was drenched in black on black on black, but it didn't make him look any smaller, quite the contrary. The dark brown eyes stared at her from under the skull balaclava with brazen mischief. When she finally caught up with her breath, she began to wonder how on earth Simon had even got here.

"Someone might think you're breaking in."

"Technically, I am."

She peeked at the front door behind him and was ready to scold him for breaking the lock, but there was no sign of any vandalism on it whatsoever. How the hell did this man do all this shit?

"Did someone see you?"

He crossed his hands over his chest like he had just been insulted.

"What do you think."

In a normal situation – if there was a thing called normal with Simon – she would be dangling from his neck by now. But he looked so impressive, so imposing and foreign, that she was suddenly shy.

"Ugh… Why do you have to be so, so…"

His eyes narrowed into a smile as she tried to search for the words.

"So you."

"You wanted to learn how to shoot."

Well, the last time they had spoken on the phone, she had asked him to teach her, but he had refused, saying that she would have to go to a range and receive tuition there like the rest of the folk. But it appeared his ego had gotten the best of him.

Because why else would he appear here like this, looking like a kidnapper, burglar and a commando guy, if it weren't to show off and get another reaction out of her?

"Now? It's raining."

The weather outside wasn't exactly inhibiting. It was just another London day where you couldn't tell if it was misty or rainy. And as if he had heard her thoughts, Simon raised his eyebrow and gave her a look that said Are you fucking kidding me?

"You got two minutes to get changed."

It was a command, and her eyes widened from him just ordering her around. Then she got back to her senses and simply obeyed. While combing through her bedroom closets, she figured Simon was being generous for her sake. Two whole minutes…

December this year was far from a winter wonderland: the weeks had been warm, rainy, and grey. But it was still wintertime, the kind of cold and wet that pushed through layers of clothing. She picked the most durable outdoor clothing she owned, paired it with her only merino base layer, then decided to change her underwear too. Into something more lush, something she had bought just for his sake. Just in case things got heated on the way back home or before they went to have a shower together...

As soon as she rushed back and had gotten her shoes on, he picked her up in a fireman's carry and headed to the door.

"Someone might get the wrong idea," she laughed at the pure audacity of this man as she watched his feet swallow the tiled path that led to the street.

"I can live with that."

"Simon, seriously. Someone might call the police."

"That would certainly be interesting."

She was hauled to a colossal car with darkened windows and tires the size of a mini horse — some kind of a preposterous off-road land cruiser she could never in her life afford. If this was his own car or if it was leased through work, she couldn't tell, but it was precisely like Simon: dark, robust and fierce.

He drove safely enough though; calm and collected, like he was driving a family car to a shopping mall. It was such a delightful little detail that she briefly thought that Simon would make a good father.

After about a 40-minute drive off the city, they reached some abandoned gravel pit in the middle of nowhere. The weather had stayed much the same, but the cold she felt came from finding herself in a completely unfamiliar setting.

She waited demurely as he opened the trunk, unloaded a few gun cases, and then picked up a black tactical vest with pouches filled with ammo. She watched with her mouth dry as he swung it on, adjusted the straps, and looked even more massive with that thing. She was given a set of eye and hearing protection, and then the first case was clicked open. It held some sort of rifle.

"I thought we would use a handgun?"

"Not before you've practiced with long barrels."

Practiced…? Just how hard could pistol shooting be?

He gave the gun to her and told her to get used to its weight. She didn't know whether the safety was on or off or if the gun was even loaded, but she pointed it to the ground as Simon went to set up targets a rather long distance away. She ended up strolling around with her shoulders tense, holding the gun like it was an explosive that could go off any minute.

This was just fucking crazy and she felt like a fool… and Simon was marching back, looking like a whole goddamn war movie.

He took the gun from her, adjusted the sight, and showed her how the bolt action worked. She only now saw that the chamber was empty – of course he wouldn't leave her unattended with a loaded firearm – then watched how he grabbed a magazine that looked like a little box and pushed it in the stock with seasoned motions.

"This is a Browning X-Bolt rifle. Good for hunting both deer and people."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at such hillbilly talk. Simon put the hearing protection on, which was a sign for her to cover her ears as well. He fired only one round to see if everything worked correctly, then gave the gun back to her.

"Remember to squeeze the trigger. Don't yank or pull it."

He then adjusted her stance, which she had briefly tried to imitate from him. He came behind her, and the gun was raised and tucked against her shoulder like she was a child who had to be shown everything by hand. And she guessed she could be compared to an infant when it came to these things.

It was a whole other ordeal to try and memorize everything he said when the hard ridges of his gear pressed against her as he showed her how to hold the rifle. And it certainly wasn't an accident for him to pack his crotch against her too. They hadn't even kissed yet, let alone reveled in the usual, steamy sex that occurred the moment they met after weeks of pining on the phone. He was like the devil himself, pouring that dark, raspy velvet in her ear and knowing perfectly well that he left her aching after every single call. Long distance relationship was a sweet, sweet hell.

"Is that a knife in your pocket?"

She could barely detect the slight tensing of his core as she said it. The shoulders caved in just a little, the hand that was snaked over hers tightened its grip only marginally… So she raised the stakes.

"Or another long barrel?"

"Concentrate."

"It's pretty hard to concentrate with a barrel up my arse."

There was a short silence, and she bit her lip — Simon never let her have the last word, not to talk of teasing him like this without being punished. The hearing protection was lifted just enough for her to catch what he whispered in her ear.

"Should've fucked you before we came 'ere."

Her pussy clenched at that, quite involuntarily, but the dark honey combined with that gruff purr while he was pressed against her was simply too much.

"You would've been all nice 'n' quiet."

Well, it was now obvious that further punishment would ensue after the shooting lesson. Her nipples grew taut, and not from the cold. He gently put the hearing protection back on before taking a few steps back, his warmth leaving her like a cloak she had been deprived of.

She took a deep breath to level her head, then slid her finger on the trigger and braced herself for the kick. It was enough to mess up her aim, but the second time was easier now that she knew what was coming. After the third round, Simon came to show her how to change the empty mag.

"That's it. Good girl."

"For God's sake, Simon, you're not helping."

The third magazine she changed herself, with shaky hands, because shooting had turned out to be both thrilling and nerveracking.

Next up was a submachine gun, during which point she was literally sweating. Everything looked nasty and technical, and she felt like she didn't know shit about anything.

"Ok, now this one you gotta keep steady, or else you'll find yourself shooting at the sky."

He adjusted the grip of her left hand so that instead of cradling the gun in her palm, she bore her thumb over the rail for better control.

"How do I keep it steady?"

"With muscles. I know you got some."

The first few spurts were full of shy stress, but she got used to the feel of it after a while. The first magazine was empty just when she started to have fun. He came to change it, and she did another round, during which Simon gave her curt advice — "don't let the gun control you," "lean into it a bit," "elbows in line," and so on. It was absolutely ridiculous how the clink of bullets on the ground could make her feel like she was Rambo or something. After the third mag, Simon deemed it done, and she almost felt sad to be departed from the gun.

"That went well."

"Yeah. I like this one," she agreed while looking at the black steel like she had just made a new friend.

"You little maniac," he said while giving her an approving once-over. The sexual tension was electrifying, the smell of acrid gunsmoke made her feel exceptionally wild, and she started to understand why people were attracted to these things. She had thought that anyone could fire a gun, but she was wrong. It required practice like any other activity, it demanded both patience and strength.

Some of the expended cartridges had melted the polyester of her jacket in a few spots, one had even burned a tiny hole in the fabric. Simon noticed her surprise as he took the gun to return it to the car.

"Yeah… Burns real nice when they catch some skin. We call them brass kisses."

After the SMG was back in the case, Simon lit a cigarette, and she felt even more timid. Seeing him in this kind of setting, hauling guns around, lifting that mask to have a smoke, dressed like he was going to some special operation, suddenly reversed months of acquaintance. She was out of her element while he was 100 % in it, and the aspects that had made her fall for him were turned up not by a notch but by a stretch.

"Now we get to the pistol. And this ain't no toy. You really gotta pay attention to your form." The cigarette hung from his lips while he emptied the gun, then took a drag like it was just his second nature to fire some shots while having a smoke. The magazine was changed by the same hand that held the empty one like he had done this a thousand times before. Probably because he had.

She would never have thought that this was what she was really into. She had spent years searching for a soulmate in future professors or decent guys who were safe and dull. All of that evaporated into thin air like the smoke from his tobacco.

It felt almost shameful that she found such a stereotypically masculine man not only intriguing but so attractive that she felt weak in the knees. To gawk at the display of muscle and war and dirt and get wet from the smell of gunpowder and his sweat as he came close to show her how the guns worked… It felt like a betrayal. She had always looked down on these people because she had simply thought that wars were stupid and anyone who wanted to be part of such violence was stupid.

But Simon wasn't stupid or simple; he wasn't a jackass with distorted views of honor and ethics. In fact, he was one of the most intelligent, morally sound people she had met. Perhaps a little gloomy and with a twisted sense of humour, but those things only added to his depth. Simon wasn't cannon fodder, nor was he a gun-crazy, trigger-happy recruit who had made reality of most boys' fantasy life. He was a relic of something essentially, fiercely masculine, a man in a world full of boys.

He came to give her another crash course on how to line the sights, take off the slack from the trigger before firing, how to square her stance toward the target. It also seemed that she was gripping every weapon wrong. Whether it was a limp wrist or the wrong spot for grip, he saw it and corrected her on it.

And after firing a few rounds, she understood why they had started with rifles. The pistol shooting was an absolute shitshow. Aiming that small but feisty piece required an extremely delicate yet stern hand.

"See what I mean?" Simon changed another mag for her, and she tried to hide her sulking.

"Yeah. Why would anyone want to use these things?"

"Easier to carry and disguise."

After the second mag was empty, he told her he had been mean and that beginners usually started pistol shooting from 7 yards away. The target she had hit only a handful of times was more than 20 yards away.

"Got one more beauty," he said, went to the car, and came back with a monster. It looked heavy, even in his hands, and for a moment she thought they were about to shoot with a machine gun in the middle of serene countryside.

"What the hell is that…"

"I saved the best for last."

It turned out to be a large caliber rifle with a scope, typically used by snipers — only, this one was larger and more powerful from the usual military use. The silencer at the end of the barrel only increased the outrageous appearance of the weapon.

"Don't look so glum. This should be easy."

She got a nice little setup that included a poly tarp and a tripod for the gun. Shooting prone with a mounted gun gave her the much-needed support, and the scope made her feel that even a person with a Bachelor's degree could do this shit. The recoil didn't scare her this time; she even liked the feel of it when it got absorbed into her body.

"Lookin' good."

And the commentary from the back made her realize that the absorbing thing no doubt meant that more than just her accuracy was on point.

"I'm sure it does," she said mainly to herself while silently happy about Simon unmistakably checking her ass out. The sniper setup was so much fun overall that she asked for extra mags. He only had two, and the session was soon over, and her cheeks were red from both joy and the brisk morning air.

Simon came to crouch beside her, and she turned on the tarpaulin to give him a smile that must've told him just how happy she was. He smiled back with his eyes, which now held a hungry glimmer in them. Yup, he had definitely checked that ass out.

"That's it," he said while removing the protective gear for her.

"Can I join your team now?"

"Sure. You'll make a great mascot."

She fake punched him for that, and he caught her wrist while laughing at her sad tries to pose a threat to someone like him while lying on her back. The next punch was not that playful, even if she was laughing too. It soon turned into a whole wrestling contest until he finally climbed to mount her.

She figured he had bested her and relaxed under the straddle of his thighs, but the greedy look in his eyes only increased.

"C'mon. Fight back a little."

She guessed this was just another need to show off, but she felt reckless enough to indulge him. She caught him slightly off guard by diving an arm around his neck while doing a hip bridge that almost bucked him off to the side, but he quickly drove his other foot to the ground to prevent himself from being toppled.

"You've done Jiu Jitsu?"

"Beginners course, 5 years ago," she answered to the mild surprise in his voice, then tried to push herself out from under him with an escape from the mount that usually worked… at least in a training situation with other beginners. But Simon countered it easily, and she soon found herself being seized in a chokehold from behind while trying to break.

He took her back down with him, even wrapped his legs around hers, performing a perfect rear naked choke on her. She should've known that Simon was adept in martial arts as well.

She was staring at the sky while clutching the steel muscle that forced her to lay her head beside his. It was a pure instinct to reach for his forearm to pull it off, even if he was holding her in place rather than doing an actual choke.

"You're always far more fun than you let on," he whispered in her ear, so close that the fabric pressed on her skin and sent tingles down her spine.

"Glad to be of entertainment even here," she said while trying to maneuver herself out of the choke, to no avail. That bastard even let go with his other hand, quite capable of holding her in place with just one arm while the other began to travel down.

She froze from the heady realization that Simon hadn't spread the tarp just for shooting purposes. It had been laid there for some other action entirely.

The hand forced its way under the waistband of her pants and swept over her underwear, cupped her with no fanfare, just to inspect the state she was in.

"Of course you're wet." The voice was dark, amused, and slightly out of breath as his legs forced her thighs further apart still.

"Of course you're a cock," she said while trying to suppress a moan. Her muscles were already sore, but she didn't want to go back to a warm house, a hot shower, and a soft bed afterward. She wanted him to continue whatever this… exploration was developing into.

He stroked her through the thin fabric she had deliberately chosen to wear today under the all but erotic outdoor apparel, and knew he could feel just how wet she was. All the fight left her, her legs relaxed into the spread they were forced into, and her hips ground against that hand, utterly wanton and shameless. She assumed it was her way of tapping out.

"Fuck…" she cussed the second time today as her head laid back to rest on his shoulder.

"Just say the words and I will."

"I already did."

"Nah… you gotta say it." The grip on her throat tightened a little while he swept a thumb right over the spot that was crying for attention, and her eyes squeezed shut just from the sheer frustration this man aroused in her.

"Please. Just..."

"Yes luv?"

God, he was annoying...

"Fuck me," she submitted like she always did.

"With pleasure." He rolled them both to the side, and she was quite literally manhandled to lie down on her back. She dutifully helped him remove her pants and noticed she wasn't the only one having trouble with restraint. She had never seen a man so enthusiastic about getting her clothes off.

But when he was met with the high-waisted lingerie composed of strings and sheer black lace instead of the plain black knickers she usually wore, there was a pause.

"Fuckin' hell…"

And she could understand the allure of it now: there was something enticing, dizzying, about pale skin covered in nothing but a few thin threads and see-through mesh. Especially when contrasted with a giant male encumbered with magazines of cold metal and dressed in black, rough ripstop. She knew he carried not one, but two knives this time: one on the back of his vest and another strapped to his thigh.

"Don't destroy them, ok?"

He was still looking at the dainty little thing like it was the most fascinating sight he had ever seen. And to think that she had almost left them at the store because it felt foolish and corny to wear something like this just for him to take off.

"Simon? Please."

The dark stare flew briefly to her eyes before darting back to the ridiculous thing that, in her opinion, didn't deserve to be called clothing.

"Since you asked so nicely."

The lace looked even more pitiful in contrast to those reinforced half finger shooting gloves as he reached to take the garment off. The whole scene must've looked like a threatening situation rather than the passionate encounter of two lovers: a giant soldier opening his pants to get his cock out and adjust himself between the legs of a half-naked woman. If anyone from school saw what she was up to this weekend, they would've probably fainted.

And how on earth could it only feel better every single time he slid in?

He did it sluggishly — it was his bravura: to torture her and watch how she gasped and tightened around him. He turned the most basic things into a fantasy, made a simple missionary feel like a holy event.

"Now that's a hungry cunt," he commented with a barely restrained groan. She nearly told him to just shut up for once…but didn't because as always, that talk only made her clamp around him more fiercely.

"Try concentrating on missions with this tight lil' fit on your mind…"

At that, she was speechless, but her fingers curled around the shoulder straps of that stupid tactical vest he wore, the contents of it pressing against her uncomfortably as he slowly filled her. He so rarely rushed, even when the air was filled with so much intensity that there could've been sparks flying from their contact. It was aggravating how patiently he could slide in and out while they were both trembling, while whole worlds were shattering from the insane passion at work here.

Her thighs were already quivering from the stretch and mutual tension and the knowledge that they were doing this in broad daylight under a dull, gray sky, on a tarp that smelled of storage room, gasoline, and lifeless plastic. But even that was nothing compared to the masked man above her. She couldn't feel skin except for the part inside her and the pelvis that brushed her as she so willingly opened up for him after they had fired guns like they were some bloodthirsty, lunatic couple.

And Simon was breaking records every time they met. She felt cold, alive, and so happy that those three words were so close to slipping out this time that it brought her to tears. And he just kept making love to her in this disturbed setting where the sniper rifle was still lying beside them with the safety off, wearing that unbelievable skull print mask that made her want to scream because it was so cringey and hot at the same time.

"Simon," she started, not knowing what she wanted when she already had everything she could ever wish for.

"What can I get ya?" He murmured to her neck, the warm breath hitting her skin through the mask and providing some alleviation to the December cold. The plastic sheet made scrunchy sounds beneath them as he continued to shag her while she was having another breakdown from the love she felt for this man.

"I- Just… a little faster," her whisper rose as a mist in the air as she tried to come up with something other than I love you. He chuffed against her neck in amusement but granted her request, and a few tears escaped.

She was crying while everything was already soaked. The foggy morning and her pussy were equally as wet for Simon to have a nice, refreshing Saturday filled with all the things he enjoyed the most. Her whole body ached, both from the cold and the love.

She nuzzled her way under that mask and finally met precious skin, salty and heavy with the scent she now associated with all things Simon and safety. She kissed his neck like an idol at first, then with more passion, like she was starving for the whole essence of him. He messed up the rhythm of his thrusts for a brief moment, just from that subtle touch of hot breath and wet tongue. And then there came a swallow and a pained sound — almost like a hushed, uneasy sob.

He was suddenly speechless too, there were no commentaries on how good she felt or how well she took him or even that good girl talk. Simon was fucking her on mute for the first time ever, only sighing and grunting as he went. He wouldn't even look at her. But it felt even more sensual, their most sensual fuck yet – that everything just trembled and shuddered and shifted like continental plates.

The build-up was far from hasty and desperate. It grew inside her, layer upon layer of swelling heat and devotion until her whole body went tense. The shaking stopped — but he wouldn't; he completed the job the same way he did everything in life. Confident, meticulous, unwavering.

When she came, he still wouldn't say anything, only hummed against her with a satisfied rumble. It was stupid, how she felt more like a goddess on that tarp than on the bed they usually did this. It felt idiotic how she felt like a goddess at all... But there was no other word really, to describe the sensation of total elevation and surrender that followed from being filled with a man like him. He was supposed to be a simple grunt and turned out to be everything but. He was full of magic, an embodiment of otherworldly power. It made her cry and left her legs shaking.

He allowed himself some mercy only after she had had her pleasure, and the sex became feverish. She dared to roll the mask up just enough to find his lips, and he allowed it, answering her kiss almost violently.

"Fuck I've missed you," he panted in her mouth like it was a confession torn from him by torture, and before she could say anything, he crammed his mouth on hers again. He never showed affection straightforward, and the sudden frankness pierced her heart like a javelin, far heavier than his actual mass bearing down on her.

The love fluttered inside her chest like a painful secret as he prevented her from returning the closeness that bordered on unbearable. He eventually came with a few hearty thrusts and broke the kiss, and the liquified stare behind those half-lidded eyes was a whole nebula of sore adoration. If this was anyone else, she would've deemed that look vulnerable.

He was perfect, and this day was perfect, and she felt a sinking, sweet fear in her stomach from getting everything she wanted and then some more – because it could never, ever last, not in her world of experience. This was simply too good to be true.

His head hung heavy beside hers, then came to rest on the crook between her shoulder and neck like he was in need of a short, cuddly moment. While valiantly supporting himself on his elbows even after the climax, his weight still managed to steal most of the air from her lungs. The magazines, albeit softened by the pouches of that vest, dug into her skin even more painfully. But she didn't care — she even wrapped her legs around him, as far as they would go, to prevent him from ever leaving her. And he didn't withdraw for a good long while. Lately, he wanted to stay inside her for as long as possible, and it was another thing that sent her to the brink of tears.

"That was…" she broke the mist of silence with words and felt him sigh.

"Yeah."

Her hand was halfway under that mask, and she could feel his hot sweat under her palm, the cold British fog licking her fingers. If she would ever catch Alzheimer's when she grew old, this was the memory she would fear losing the most.

"You're one hell of a man, Simon."

"I like you too, Sarah," he chuckled, but she could hear it… The word 'like' had started out as something else, and he corrected it just before it curved to love. The heavy accent made it roll off his tongue like it was just his usual manner of speaking, but it was there.

And if that wasn't evidence enough, he was abruptly tense, having realized he had almost made a mistake. And why would it be a mistake? Because it would've been mortifying to be the first to say it?

She looked at the heavy sky above them and smiled. Insufferable man… he was bold and fearless and hardy but turned into a stubbornly proud man with these kinds of things.

She opened her mouth to be the one with more balls, but he got off her, and the moment was lost somewhere in the folds of that tarp. Her cowboy looked at her with warm, sleepy eyes.

"You look like shit."

In his language, and said with such overly puffed up affection, it meant gorgeous, or magnificent, or beautiful. She could hear in his voice that he was inwardly beaming — like he was looking at a mess he was proud to have wrecked.

"Gotta clean you up when we get back," he chimed, no doubt eager about getting to run his hands all over her slick soapy body after first making a dirty mess of her.

"Enjoying this a little too much, don't you think?"

"Not nearly enough. Put some clothes on before I attack you again."

He was gentleman enough to help her back into her clothed and shoes, laughing when dressing her turned into yet another contest and they nearly stumbled on the tarp all over again. The elegant material of her freshly bought underwear didn't stand a chance against the cum that seeped out of her in a sudden rush. She was definitely in need of a shower.

The trip back was mostly filled with a satisfied silence as a few rays of sun broke from the clouds to shine through the windscreen. It was still early, the day had just begun. They would probably spend the rest of it, hopefully, the whole weekend, at her place — doing good food and sharing silly stories from work and school, sleeping late and misbehaving like two hormone driven teenagers.

"I got you something," Simon spoke when they were nearing the city, offering some sort of a short bladed knife. It had a t-shaped handle, and she intuitively wrapped her fingers around it so that the blade was protruding from between her knuckles as she drew it from the hard nylon fiber sheath.

"Looks… vile," she said while apparently holding it right since Simon didn't correct her on it.

"Push dagger. Very handy in close combat. Would ease my nerves to know you have it when you're, ah…"

"At work?"

"Especially there."

She felt like a psycho when a smile crept up her face from handling such a cruel-looking knife supposedly meant for punching people in the gut or neck.

"Is this legal?"

"Not in the UK."

"Right." Her nerves would not be eased by the knowledge that she was carrying an illegal weapon with her. But she already knew there was no two ways about it. How many times had she walked home from the club in an anxious sweat? And when did all that dread become normal? His gift was actually delightful.

"I can leave you that Glock too. Just keep it somewhere out of sight until we get you a license. It's for emergencies."

She thought about commenting on using it accidentally on a certain guy who had broken into her house this very morning, but then again, she knew she couldn't kill a man like Simon in a million years.

"Sure. Thanks."

Other guys had bought her books and manicures as a gift, taken her to the movies. Someone had even bought her a large TV as a birthday present. Mainly to watch football from it himself.

But Simon… Simon gave her a vicious looking knife and a pistol to protect herself with and fucked her under the sky after teaching her how to shoot with different firearms.

"Look at you all smiles," he observed her with remnants of sultry smoke still coating his voice. She realized she was watching the road with a silly grin on her face.

"You had fun today?"

He tried to appear distant and thick-skinned, but ended up taking care of her safety, went to great lengths to find out what she liked, and always made sure she was pleased. If she had known who she was dealing with from the start, she would've been more polite. But then again, it appeared her nerve was what had caught his interest in the first place.

"Yeah. And I got a lot of presents... Guess I have been a good girl after all."

"Hm. That you have."

The sun shone so brightly that she had to squint her eyes. It was the perfect moment for giving him a gift as well.

"I got something for you too." She reached for the gift that wasn't even wrapped, because she hadn't planned it to go this way, but it was of no importance right now.

Simon remained as solid as always, but the pale eyelashes fluttered in the bright morning light when he saw that she was holding the key to her apartment between them.

"So you don't have to break in."

It wasn't much, it wasn't a massage or a gift card or anything like that. He didn't exactly need it. But it was symbolic, and he accepted it with a solemn, courteous nod that meant more to her than any appreciative words or overly expressed gratitude. He was speechless for the second time today, meaning that his feelings had gotten the best of him.

[winchestergirl2]

September Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Escape Chapter 61 | Chapter 62 | Chapter 63 | Chapter 64 | Chapter65 | @soaringeag1e

Authors Summary:  A serial killer is reeking havoc around Lawrence, Kansas, and Detective Dean Winchester is getting really sick of finding more and more bodies. But one day, he gets a call about another victim. But instead of the location of another body, he gets news that this one escaped the hell of this mans actions.

Worth It @rizlowwritessortof

Authors Summary: Of course Dean doesn't mind if you go hang out with some guy you knew in your civilian life. You know, the kind of life he never had. It's fine.

Smoke Eater Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | @zepskies

Authors Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

The One That Got Away Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | @pink-sparkly-witch

Authors Summary: Childhood sweethearts, Dean and Y/N, are very much in love with each other. When she accepts a full scholarship to an out-of-state college, she finally gets to leave behind her traumatic childhood and abusive father, but it means leaving Dean behind too.

Over a decade later, Y/N returns to Lawrence, Kansas, and finally tries to heal the only wounds she has left… the psychological and emotional scars her father gave her and the heartbreak she endured by Dean Winchester, the one that got away.

Sam Winchester

Decision Making @poyopng

Authors Summary | In the midst of his coma after the God Trials, Sam's brain becomes overwhelmed by the conflicting opinions of Dean and Bobby. Luckily, his brain knows the perfect person to conjure up and help him with that.

No Vacancy Day One @bunnysbrainrot

Authors Summary: Separated from Dean and Castiel, you and Sam are on your own. Now paired up, you spend a few days in a motel. The only problem? The last room available only has one bed.

No Vacancy Day Two @bunnysbrainrot

Authors Summary: In day two of your one-on-one case with Sam, you gather intel together. Once things settle down for the second night, Dean reveals some news. Sam realizes he’s made a huge mistake involving a lust spell.

No Vacancy Day Three @bunnysbrainrot

Authors Summary: After the discovery of the lust spell placed on Sam, you quickly learn that he can’t control himself. In fact, you don’t want him to.

Empty @waywardxwords

Authors Summary: Ten months ago, Sam threw himself and Lucifer into the cage. While Dean went off to live happily with Lisa and Ben, you couldn’t bring yourself to live a “normal” life. While on a hunt, your trail leads to Lansing, Michigan where you get your hopes up when you stumble upon the Sam Winchester in a dive bar. Instead, bumping into the man you had fallen for years before leaves you feeling empty.

Healing Wounds @waywardxwords

Authors Summary: Sequel to Empty - It had been close to a year since your run-in with Sam Winchester. You had spent the time hunting recklessly, which landed you in a predicament you didn’t think you could escape from. This tells the story of seeing Sam once more after his soul has been restored. 

Idiots At First Sight @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Authors Summary: Sam and Y/N are each sure their feelings are one-sided? Dean is sure they're both idiots? Who's right?

The Boys

Soldier Boy

Checkerboard @zepskies

Authors Summary: You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Imagine: How Ben reacts to his girlfriend having cramps during her period. @zepskies

Strong as Blood Part 1 | Part 2 @zepskies

Authors Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

Walker

Cordell Walker

Kinktober 2021 | Day 6 | Overstimulation @writethelifeyouwant

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Under The Montana Skies @spnbaby-67

Imagine: Beau gives you the support you need. @zepskies

Authors Summary Beau gives you the support you need.** ❤️‍🩹

After getting home from a terrible day at work, he's able to lighten your mood.

Something Serious @jessjad

Authors Summary: Beau and Y/N spend a summer evening together. But do they both expect the same thing?

Smallville

Jason Teague

The Art Of Stealth @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Authors Summary: Jason doesn’t seem to understand the art of sneaking into your dorm room quietly

Promposal Dilemma @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

10 Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

Anyway That You Want Me @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary : he’s clingy and doesn’t know how else to feel close to her. even though it gets them both riled up, it’s nice while it lasts.

[peachymilkandcream]

Fraud | Part 9 | Yandere All Might x Hero!Reader

(A/N: This chapter is going to be a flashback so just keep that in mind. And we finally get more of the story when it comes to why All Might is the way he is! Hope you enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, graphic depictions of violence, mind breaking, misogyny, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, forced orgasm, suicide, etc.

===============================================

She had started it all. Back when All Might's career had really began to ramp up she had been the one to stop him at every turn.

A pro who was everything he wasn't, he was gifted with divine power and yet this woman still somehow managed to get the upper hand on him each and every time.

It made him sick.

The hero scene was still fairly new, and All Might had taken the world be swarm with his accomplishments after his debut, rising to the top of the charts with ease.

He should have been the Number One Hero ages ago, the world owed it to him to be placed at the top. He deserved it. And yet this woman was pushing faster up the charts than he was.

All Might would not take this lying down.

================================================

It started out as simple friendship, joining up to fight crime together was always a norm among the pros. And their quirks were somewhat similar so they often paired well together.

She never could see the darkness behind that smile either.

Eventually it turned to more romantic, All Might could be quite the charmer and had her swooning over him in weeks. It was never hard to get a woman to submit to his advances. He was far superior to everyone so who wouldn't want to get a piece of him.

Regular visits became a relationship, All Might quickly making it public to further his career as support and interest in his brand grew to astonishing heights. He was on top of the world and nothing could ever stop him.

Or so he thought.

==============================================

Admittedly he became distance, arrogant, only using her for a quick fuck to keep his stress levels at bay. She was becoming boring, and he longed for something else. Her brand was still larger than his and showed no signs of stopping, All Might became known as the partner and nothing more. He was no longer an individual.

She had to go.

His accidental distance became intentional, pushing her away but in a way where she felt it was her fault and it couldn't be blamed on him. He wanted to ruin her reputation and make sure that he gained the sympathetic spotlight.

He brought her to more parties, introduced her to more pros, hoping one of them would take the break and he could hit two birds with one stone.

When he walked in on her bent over and fucked out of her mind by another man he feigned his upset and horror. In reality he couldn't have been more pleased.

The media smeared her reputation, throwing it into the mud and dragging it. The other hero was also disgraced, their popularity tanking while his soared. All pitied the poor man who was hurt by two callous and cruel people.

Often she showed up at his apartment and sucked his dick to be taken back, but he saw through her tactics. She wanted to use him like he used her, to be brought into the spotlight once again and have her life back.

"I don't know, I'll think about it-" Was all he said.

Toshinori's refusal made her desperate, her entirely livelihood slipping and debts going up. She broke into his apartment and waited for him naked, hoping that as he pounded into her he'd take her back and this whole mess would be over.

He never did.

================================================

Soon she stopped showing up. And faded into the obsolete. No one remembered her, no one cared who she was. They only cared about the new Number One. A man the world was truly blessed to have.

Even All Might momentarily forgot about her, only remembering when she tried to come out with all the evidence of how All Might was a terrible significant other.

The bitch. After the break he gave her? She deserved what she got.

================================================

Toshinori asked to talk it out. She accepted. They met up at his apartment. They had intercourse. She left. She disappeared.

That was all the police had on the situation, cameras showed her leaving and the testimony of the Number One Hero carried immense weight. She was a nobody, so why waste time and resources when more than likely she ended it all after he rejected her.

The case was closed as a suicide, a fitting end for a cheater the media had said. And with the conflicted grief of the Symbol of Peace, explaining how he couldn't decide between relief and grief that his first love was gone, the world sympathized once again.

Reality was that All Might kept her for a while, locked away and used at his leisure, but one night he had pushed it too far and strangled her on accident.

The body was disposed of and he continued on. But he never forgot that feeling of power and control, the pleasure and joy of cutting down and humiliating his rivals. It was like he was a changed man, why couldn't he do this with other rivals? He would be unstoppable.

He was unstoppable.