#I did not watch the press conference when it aired but a question I had was answered during the PC 😂🤣😅

[teafiend]

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ Chauffeur .

❥ old!manlogan x fem!reader

summary: mean old logan can’t help but to push the best thing away in his life. and you can’t help but to let go of your worst.

❥ tags: stubbornness, age gap (readers in her late 20s), reader is a mutant, old man logan having a wet dream, car sex, riding, creampies, possibly pregnancy, reader is very rich and established, brat taming, reader’s boyfriend is an ASSHOLE, logan is an asshole but that’s nothing new, etc…

note: we all wanna ride, old man logan. also, stepping away from jjk for a bit. wc: 4.9k

Everyday was the same when you got into the car. There was a smile on your face and you greeted him, even if you didn’t get a response most of the time—you still treated him with kindness. He was your driver after all and you were trusting him with your life.

“45th and Madison, please.” You placed your purse into your lap and buckled up as he pulled off from your house, keeping his eyes on the road.

“How was your night Logan? Get any rest?” You stared at the side of his face, taking in his rugged features. “Good.” Was all he grunted, hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the busy streets of New York. You didn’t bother to question him anymore, not wanting to piss him off on this beautiful morning.

The car ride was silent on the way to your company, the only thing that couldn’t be heard was the soft hum of the car and the sound of the air conditioner blowing its cool air. And when he pulled up to your job, you opened your mouth to speak, “thanks, and here—.” you leaned over and handled him an envelope full of money, the scent of cigars and cologne invading your nostrils; making you swoon.

He muttered a thanks and you quickly got out of the car, “I’ll text you what time to pick me up! Later Logan~” You waved and smiled, watching the old man pull off into the nearby traffic—before you entered the double doors to your million dollar company.

You were one of the top businesswomen in the world, employing the most mutants and paying them fairly. You started this company when you were just a teen, not seeing any jobs for mutants when you were growing up—so you decided to make that change. You wanted a safe place for mutants to be able to work in, something like your mentor; Charles Xavier wanted.

You had to do it for your people, especially when the whole world was against you all.

Even though you were a multimillionaire and you owned a license, you didn’t have time to drive yourself around. You hired Logan after a friend recommended him. They praised him for everything that he did for them, he was more than a driver, and when got the chance to meet him in person—you were sold.

You grew very fond of the older man as time passed. He plagued your mind as you worked, his face clouding your thoughts while you were in important meetings—driving you insane. It was clear as day that you had a crush on him, however despite how you felt; you knew he would never think of you like the way you thought of him.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight? Wear that red dress that makes you look like a fucking supermodel?” The voice of your business partner and boyfriend broke you out of your daze, while the two of you ate lunch in the high-end lounge your company acquired.

Eric, was a guy you met at a press conference that supported you when you wanted to have more mutants employed and treated as normal in the world, when the public was against your kind. He was intelligent and an all around amazing person, and when he asked you out one day—the two of you immediately hit it off. You were happy to have him…..but there was something you didn’t like. He would put himself first before you.

He did this a couple of times, putting him and his buddies before you; and you called him out on it—but he always apologized and told you it wouldn’t happen again. Liar.

“Will it just be us this time? Last time it was me and your frat brothers. And I hate that night, you left me all alone.” You pouted and he chuckled before leaning over to kiss your lips. “It’ll just be us this time, I promi—hold that thought,” his phone started to ring and he quickly pulled it out; talking to whoever was on the other end. You sighed and continued munching on your food, before you headed back to your office; alone.

Logan was already outside of your office when you finally exited your company’s building. You hopped into the truck and he pulled off once you buckled up, heading into the direction of your house. “How was your day Logan?” You looked at him through the mirror, studying those hazel eyes of his, which connected onto yours as he answered you.

“Good.” You smiled and relaxed into your seat, enjoying the ride back home. “Oh, Eric’s and I are going out to eat. You can come inside while I get ready, it shouldn’t take long.” You beamed and he tensed up in his seat. You couldn’t see it, but Logan rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel at the mention of your boyfriend. He wasn’t fond of him, thought the guy was an asshole from the moment he met him. He felt like you deserved better, he knew you did.

But, who was he to judge? He was no saint himself.

After he pulled up to your house and the two of you entered, you were immediately greeted by your calico—Persia. She purred and rubbed against your leg before she spotted the tall man a few steps behind you. The cat inched over to him and sniffed his pants leg, before she rubbed herself against him; purring once more. Logan grunted and you smiled, reaching down to rub the soft furred animal, “she’s never don’t that before, she usually hisses at strangers. she must really like you.”

As you stepped deeper into your house, putting down your things and slowly stripping out of your work clothes, before turning to the grumpy old man standing at your front door, “He wants me to meet him there. I’m going to get ready, in the meantime are you hungry? Food’s in the fridge.”

“I’m good.” His voice was gruff and his face was blank, when he connected eyes with you, moving away from your cat. You unbuttoned the last black button to your matching button up, leaving you in your deep green matching underwear set—causing him to look away. “I have a huge liquor cabinet, help yourself.”

He watched as you ascended up the stairs before shaking his head and entering your kitchen. He admired your boldness, comfortable enough to undress in front of him, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to see you like that. No one did. Especially that fucked face motherfucka, Eric.

Logan took a look at your cabinet, impressed with your collection of wines, cognacs and other strong liquids; but he was more impressed to see this thirty year aged whiskey you had. Hibiki Whiskey, his favorite. He smiled to himself and grabbed it along with a glass, pouring a nice bit into it; before downing it—the smoothness flowing down his throat beautifully.

He sat on your couch, sipping on the dark liquor, while taking a look around your house. He found comfort in the decor, your home felt….safe. Something he hadn’t felt in ages. It was so safe that he couldn’t help but drift off into sleep, something he hardly did lately.

He must’ve been sleeping for a while, deep into his dream; this one a little different from the one’s he usually had about you.. You had frequented his dream world on occasion when he did sleep. Your warm smile was something he saw on a daily basis; when you were cooking for him or sometimes the two of you appeared in a field of flowers—your smile overshadowed the sun. But, this one was a lot different. You were on top, riding him.

Everything felt and looked so realistic. The same emerald green set you wore was glued to your body. The panties were pulled to the side, your essence sticking to them and his cock; while you bounced. Your body looked so beautiful and he knew he shouldn’t be dreaming about you like this, but he couldn’t help himself—especially when you turned around; face contorted in sheer arousal. And then he lost it, when you opened up your mouth and moaned his name.

“Logan~” fuck, he could feel you clench down on him, as you brought your ass down on him again—moaning his name once more. But this time you were louder, repeating his name over and over again; his tired hazel eyes shooting open, staring at your own. You were standing in front of him, wearing a beautiful ruby red dress; which clung to your body and accentuated your curves, smiling at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But, I need your help zipping up my dress—please~.” He nodded, shifting in his spot to hide the boner that was poking through his black corduroy pants—reaching over to help zip you up. His rough fingers melted into your soft skin, as he held his hand on your upper back for support; his mind going right back to his dream. Fuck, he was going to hell for dreaming about you like that.

You looked beautiful, standing a little taller than usual—thanks to your gold heels that matched your jewelry. You decided to curl your natural hair, which framed your soft made-up face. He could stare at you all day.

“Thanks. I’m ready to go!” And there you go with that smile, that slowly melted his cold heart.

You waited outside of the restaurant in the car, waiting for Eric to show up. It had been ten minutes since you arrived and he still wasn’t there, wasn’t answering his phone either. Your gut told you to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it—you were hoping he would show up. So, to get your mind off of him, you sparked a conversation up with Logan.

“Hey Logan, tell me about yourself. What do you do besides driving?” He clenched his teeth and kept a grip on the car’s steering wheel.

“Nothing.”

“Really? I heard you were a bodyguard and a hitman. What was that—“ He turned around and glared at you, cutting you off as he spoke. “Listen. I’m not one of your fucking girlfriends you sit and gossip with. Got it?” His voice was deep and scary, while his eyes told a different story. However, you nodded and looked away, blinking back the tears that wanted to leave your own.

Then, your phone rang and you immediately answered. On the other end of the line was Eric, apologizing about not showing up and begging for the two of you to reschedule. You swallowed the lump in your throat and told him that it was alright, saying you were tired anyways; before hanging up and slumping into your seat. “Take me home.” Was all that you could muster up to say, before a stream of tears cascaded down your face—ruining your makeup.

The car ride was silent, besides the sounds of your sobs—which slowly broke the old man. He kept glancing at you through the mirror, feeling like a dick because he played a part in your sadness too. But, an apart of him felt angry, he wanted to kick Eric’s ass for standing you up. How could he not see what was right in front of him?

As the car halted in front of your house, you immediately got out, slamming the door behind you before you sped walked to the front door—not looking back—too embarrassed to speak to him. And one he saw that you were safely inside, he drove off and headed into the direction of the nearby bar—ready to drink the night away.

This was one of the worst nights ever and neither of you would forget it.

The following days were like a blur for you. You hadn’t been to work for a week, taking some time off to try and understand your mental.

That day played in your mind over and over, you were hurt twice that night. But, the look on Logan’s face haunted you. You could tell there was more behind those eyes, besides all that anger, something else laid behind them—and you wanted to know more. No matter how much he tried to push you away.

Currently, you were sitting on your couch with Persia by your side, eating ice cream and watching whatever was on tv—ignoring the spam calls from Eric; when you were startled by a loud pound on your front door. You looked at the door then at Persia, fists clenched as your powers started to surge; before you started to creep towards the door. You swung it open, ready to pummel whoever was on the other side, until you saw who was standing on your porch.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, looking at the older man who was covered in blood and holding onto his arm. “Logan! What the hell happened?” You asked, helping him into your home and shutting the door afterwards—to hide him from any nosey neighbors; before you ushered him into your downstairs bathroom. He sat down on the toilet with a clang, before he started to remove his clothes; with your help.

“Whose blood is this?” You asked, putting his bloody beater into the hammer behind you before inspecting his scarred face. “Most of it was someone else’s. Don’t worry, I’ll heal.” He moved away from your touch, but you immediately pulled him back; your eyes piercing him.

“I know, but until your healing factor kicks in, im gonna help. And i'm not asking.” He chuckled and nodded his head, before you used your powers on him—stopping the blood from leaking out until his own power’s kicked in. One of his thick eyebrows raised in confusion, before you answered him.

“Blood manipulation. Now let’s put that shoulder back in place. Here, bite down on this.” You handed him a washcloth, but he declined.

“Just do it, princess. I can take it.” He reassured and you stared at him for a moment, before whispering an ‘okay’. Without warning, you gripped his arm and pushed it back into his socket, making him yell out in pain—his claws unsheathing in the process.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You apologized, making him shake his head in response. His claws retracted and he pulled you in by your waist—his body heat warming you as you stood next to him. His hazel eyes searched all over your face, lingering on your plump lips before backing up to your soft irises, “need a drink, right now.”

The two of you sat in your kitchen, sharing a bottle of ten year old cognac, while Logan shared stories about what he did—answering your question from last week. “I also take care of Charles….Charles Xavier.” You swallowed the smooth liquor, before responding.

“Oh, I knew that already.” He raised an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing. “He accidentally called on your phone, thinking I was Taco Bell, until I spoke with him. He’s a funny guy, I’ve always imagined he was……I was a big fan of his when I was younger.” There was some silence, as he thought about the Professor and his current state.

You got up from your spot and put your glass in the sink, done drinking for night, before going into the fridge for a snack—until his deep voice made you stop moving. “Look, princess….about the other night—“

“It’s fine. No need to apologize.”

“No, but I need to. I was a jerk and you just wanted to get to know me. So, I'm sorry.” He was now standing in front of you, towering over you, still shirtless from earlier. Your eyes trailed over his hairy, toned abs, before you looked up at his beautiful rugged face—pressing your thighs together as you felt that familiar pulsing between your legs. You nodded and turned on your heels to leave, but his rough hands pulled you back; making you stumble, before he caught you.

“What happened to you and what’s his face?” He spoke and you snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of Eric. “He’s an asshole, who likes to waste my time.“

Logan clenched his teeth, feeling himself get upset at the mere thought of him mistreating you. “Dick can’t see what the hell he has right in front of him?” You blushed, and bit your bottom lip, your smaller hands reaching up to toy with his platinum dog tags. “Neither can you.”

He froze and you stopped moving, eyes slowly looking up at his, until he leaned down and pulled you in a wet, sloppy kiss. His hands immediately went down to your ass, squeezing the soft fat through your tiny black shorts; something he thought doing for a while now. You squealed when he picked you up and placed you onto the countertop behind you, never breaking his lips from yours. Despite being an old man, he still had the same strength he did when he was younger.

He kissed down from your lips to your chest that was hidden behind your hot pink beater, nipples standing at attention. He circled the imprint of them with his tongue, making you moan out, before he made his way down to your clothed cunt; your arousal plaguing his nose.

“Knew you wanted this since earlier, could smell her calling out for me~” He swiped his tongue over your clothed slit, slick already staining the dark fabric. He pulled the shorts down with ease, hazel eyes growing darker as he was met face to face with your bare cunt; your essence making your puffy lips glisten.

“Shit.” He cursed, loving the sight of your pretty pussy dripping just for him, he couldn’t help but to dive in and enjoy the meal you had set right in front of him. The sensation of his beard and his tongue rubbing against you, made you moan out; back arching off of the counter and your hands tugging on his salt n pepper colored hair—grinding against his face.

He worked wonders on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, forcing more and more of your sweet translucent arousal from your aching hole; building up your orgasm. Logan spat against your soaked cunt, using his fingers to rub it all over soft lips; before pushing a thick finger into your hole—making you yell out a series of curse words.

“Gonna cum—f-fuck! Just like that Logan!” He continued to lap up your juice and pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them—making them punch your spot over and over; making you gush all over him. The grip you had on his hair was tight as you came, but he ignored it and continued to draw out your orgasm; before pulling away and pressing his wet lips against yours.

The kiss was sloppy, filled with nothing but hunger as you licked every inch of his wet face, tasting yourself; a low hum leaving his lips. And as your hand reached down to feel the bulge in his pants, he pulled away—making you whimper. But, when he backed further away and wouldn’t look at you, you noticed something was wrong.

“Logan?” You started, slipping off the counter, legs wobbling as you stood and walked over to him; only for him to back away once more.

“Gotta go. This was a mistake.” And before you could protest, he made a beeline to your front door, opening it and shutting it behind him; not bothering to grab his shirt or turning to look at you.

What the actual fuck?

You returned back to work the following day. Logan dropped you off of course, but he barely acknowledged you—evident he didn’t want to talk about what happened yesterday. But, you needed to talk about it, wondering what made him stop. Surely he didn’t think you would just be alright with him eating your pussy and making you cum, and not feel something about him?

However, you would deal with the grumpy old man later. Today, you had to face the asshole of the year, Eric. You left the car with a simple ‘bye’ to Logan, before taking the elevator ride up to your office’s floor, trying to push yesterday’s events out of your mind.

Your baby blue heels clicked on the wooden floor as you sashayed down the walk way, making heads turn and people cheer; excited for your return. However as you approached your office, you were stopped by your assistant, who had a look of worry on their face.

“What’s the matter?” You questioned, looking at your office before going back to your assistant. They gulped and prepared themselves to tell you what lies in your office.

“Mr. Eric’s in there...and he’s not alone. He’s with another—“ you cut them off and storm past them, opening the wooden door, eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of you. Your boyfriend was balls deep into your new intern, having her bent over your crisp white desk.

The sound of the door slamming shut startled them and the girl screamed, scrambling to pull her skirt down, while apologizing to you frantically. You held up your finger and shushed her, motioning to the door so she could leave. And once she did, you immediately sauntered over to the guilty male—body temperature increasing by the second.

“How long?” You questioned, your tone flat and emotionless. He stuttered, but then he looked down and looked back up—a devious smirk on his face.

“A good couple of months now. Why’d you think i pushed for you to hire her? What, did you think I’d actually love someone like you?” He chuckled, circling around you, while you raised an eyebrow. “And what does that mean? Someone like me?”

“Your kind! A fucking mutant! I’ve been using you from the beginning, I just wanted to get my hands on this company—have you mutants under my control. Starting with you—“ You set him flying back with a punch to his cheek, making him fly through the door; knocking it down.

All you saw was red as you marched over to him, your employees shocked at what was going down, but none of them dared to step in. “This….this is what I expected from you people! Pure chaos and violence.” He smirked, blood pooling from his mouth as he spewed his hate.

Using your powers, you were able to make more blood flow out of him; making a wound in his lung—which caused him to cough up some more blood. And as you raised your fist to punch him once more, your wrist was caught—stopping your movements. You turned to see Logan, his hazel eyes begging for you to stop.

He smelled danger when he was on his way up to your office, since you had forgotten your phone in the car he wanted to bring it to you. Only to be met with you about to kill a man.

“He’s had enough. Let him go.” You knew better than to protest, so you used your powers to close the internal wound on Eric; calming yourself down as Logan pulled you back into his arms. “Get him out of here, he’s fired!”

You were fuming in the car. Angry was an understatement, you were pissed. You were humiliated. You were hurt. Logan couldn’t stop checking on you through the rear view mirror, until he decided to pull over to the side of the road—putting the car in park. He hopped out of the car and opened up your side door, nodding for you to get out.

“Logan—what are you—“

“Let it out. It helps to let everything out.” You squinted and chuckled. How ironic of him to try and help you not keep things bottled inside.

“You can’t be fucking serious! You of all people, trying to give advice on their feelings? You’re the fucking king of keeping things in!” You stepped closer to him, but he didn’t budge, letting you get it all out of your system.

“You pushed me away from the beginning! Then you come in my fucking house like a wounded dog and then on top of it all—you made me have the best orgasm of my life and let me fall in love with you! Who does that!” Hot tears rolled down your pretty face, while you poked into his broad chest with each word.

You were right. He did push you away. He couldn’t open his heart, his stubbornness would allow him. But, he couldn’t let his past haunt his future, not anymore. So, he decided right then and there to finally open up and let you in.

Logan pulled you in close, the smell of his cologne and the cigar he smoked earlier was soothing; it warmed you—which made it easier for you to accept his kiss. All of that anger washed over you while your tongues danced with one another. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck; while gripping your hips and picking you up—making his way over to the car and placing you in the seats, laying you on your back.

He wasted no time and tugged off your clothes, your grey dress falling to the floor; along with your panties and bra. He stepped back, taking a moment to bask in your glory. You were beautiful and he was going to cherish this moment forever.

His slacks dropped to his ankles and you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his cock out, making them widen. “Knew you were huge~” you said, your slick pooled and dribbled down your crack, making the black leather seats glisten underneath you.

Logan grabbed his girth, rubbing against your swollen clit; eliciting moans from your sweet lips—coating himself in your fluids. Angling himself at your entrance, he pushed himself in; stretching you as he eased himself in.

“Good—…..girl. That’s it, princess—take all of it” He grunted, praising you as you were able to take all of him in one go. You winced, his tip pressing into your cervix, making you inch away from him—only to be pulled back in. He wanted you to sit there and take it. He was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Some dick.

He held your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he began to move inside of you—his strokes were deep and powerful; making your eyes roll back and your lids flutter. The more he moved, the more you grew aroused—making you a moaning mess while he fucked the shit out of you.

You clung to him with each stroke, making the older male grunt. Your tits bounced and clashed against each other as the two of you moved, hypnotizing Logan. He leaned down and plopped one of them into his mouth, sucking on your nipples like it was a peppermint. You moaned out, hands clawing at the back of the seat right next to you—pleasure too intense for you.

He was fucking you so good, splitting your pussy open with each movement; orgasm rising inside of you. “Please! Logan, I'm gonna cum! Wait—slow down—fuck!” He ignored your pleas, his pace increasing by the second. Who knew that this old man could have that much stamina?

Continuing to make a mess out of your pussy, he continued to rub against your g-spot—making your orgasm course through you. You clung to him and clenched around him sporadically, creaming all over him. He growled, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him—but you pulled out, causing him to groan.

“Sit. Wanna ride you.”

His hands clung to your waist, helping you bounce on his dick—filling you up completely. You gripped his shoulder for support, as the car rocked with your movements. The sound of your pussy and the clapping of your ass against him, made him feral and he couldn’t help but to grip your ass—hard, pushing you further down on him.

“Fuck, princess. Where do you want it?”

“Inside! Deep inside of me.” You didn’t care what would come afterwards. You just didn’t want him to stop fucking you. Logan pressed another kiss to your lips, rough hands smacking your ass as you moved wildly—walls getting ready to milk him dry. And with a few more hard bounces, he spurted deep inside of you, inner walls being painted a nice shade of white.

Rocking your hips against him, another orgasm made your body shake; cheeks jiggling against him as you came—moaning his name repeatedly.

The two of you stayed like that, his cock softening inside of you, while he continued to bottom out—before he pulled out, tip hitting your ass. You kissed him once more, content with how the night ended; finally with the man you deserved to be with.

“I love you….promise to not push me away?”

He smiled, the first time you saw it on his face, and nodded.

“I love you too.”

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some guy gets arrested

Inspired by @medium-sized-ghost addition to the Original Post.

Masterpost

“So sorry about this, Mr. Wayne.”

“No, I understand. I’m just glad to see the law doing their job so well.” Bruce continues pleasantly through the police station with Commissioner Gordon leading the way.

“We’ll get this sorted out as soon as possible, but in the meantime you will need to unfortunately be placed in holding.”

“Of course. It’s really no problem, it was my mistake missing my court date like that. Time just gets away from me sometimes, you know?” Nevermind the fact that Bruce hadn’t even known about said court date or the speeding ticket it was for. He couldn’t prove which child had taken his car for a joy ride, but his prime suspects were Jason or Dick. (He would later find out that it was Stephanie upon a dare from Duke. He already attempted to banned them from playing Truth or Dare after Tim convinced Dick to do a handstand on Jason’s bike going 95 down the freeway. Not that Dick really needed any convincing.)

“Well you’re in luck, one cell is mostly empty.” It was a small cell closer to the front. Bruce could see a teenager laying on the bench to the right. Gordon opened the door and stood to the side so Bruce could enter and locked the door behind him. “Would you like anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

Bruce smiled, “No, thank you.” Gordon nodded and looked past Bruce at the only other occupant in the cell, “What about you kid? Anything?”

Bruce watched as the kid, one he unfortunately recognized, lifted his arm from where it was thrown over his eyes and waved it in the air at the commissioner, “I’m good.” The arm went back down. Gordon grunted, “alright Officer Mitchell is keeping watch, call out if either of you need anything.”

With that Bruce was left alone with the boy who had befuddled and befriended his many children. He sat on the opposite bench and thought about how best to approach the young man. Danny had never responded well to Batman and there was no telling how he would respond to Bruce. According to Tim, Danny actually had some respect for Bruce and the money he dumped into bettering Gotham. (When it was announced that the public library was being renovated Danny had interrogated Tim about it and then offered his own opinions on how to involve more of the general population.)

Bruce didn’t think the time called for his “Brucie” persona and he couldn’t be Batman at the moment. He could approach the boy in a “fatherly” manner but that approach rarely worked on his own kids, he didn’t think it would work on this one.

“Have you called anyone?”

Danny looked out from under his arm and stared at Bruce suspiciously. In hindsight it was a creepy question.

Bruce brought his hands up and breathed a laugh, “I’m sorry, I meant have you been given your one phone call?” Danny didn’t move. “Why? You a lawyer?” He eyed Bruce in his nice suit and watch.

Bruce smiled at the boy, “goodness no, I don’t have the attention span for law school. I actually did pre-med before dropping out.”

Danny seemed too curl a little more into himself. It was the most cautious Bruce had ever seen him. He was locked in a Gotham police cell with a man in an expensive suit who seemed completely unconcerned about being arrested, it was wise on Danny’s part to be wary.

Bruce stuck out his hand, “Bruce Wayne.” Slowly, Danny sat up and crossed his arm scoffing, “why would Bruce Wayne be in a holding cell?” Bruce continued to smile at the kid and shrugged, his hand still in the air, “speeding ticket I’m afraid, missed my court date. I do have to say, though, the updated traffic cameras are a good investment by the police department.” “Wayne Enterprises payed for them.” “We did?” Bruce asked, knowing full well it was to give Oracle better camera footage. “You were at the press release.” “Huh.” Bruce looked thoughtful for a minute, “mm no, not ringing any bells. I go to so many of those press conferences, they just bleed together after a while.” “Mhm.” Danny still didn’t take the offered hand. Bruce sighed and let it drop back to his lap, “I’d offer to show you my ID but I don’t exactly have it on me.”

They sat and watched each other for a minute. Danny shifted and seemed to make a decision, “I work at a coffee shop and one of your sons is a regular.” Bruce slapped his thigh as if a light bulb suddenly went off, “You’re Danny! Tim’s mentioned you! You know he’s the only one with a weakness for caffeine, the others like to tease him but I don’t think he has an addiction. However, he does seem to spend a lot of time at that shop.” Bruce leaned forward as if confiding a secret, “to be honest, I think he has a bit of a crush on you.”

Dropping his own arms, Danny sighed. “Yeah, he’s not really that subtle.”

“No, I’m afraid he’s never been good at that. At least not when he’s interested in someone.” Tim was great at subtlety when it came to the mission but never in his personal life. The funny part was he didn’t even draw that distinction on purpose.

“I called a family friend. To answer your question. He should be here soon.” Bruce nodded, “so you do have people you can rely on in town?” “I could have a whole family I can rely on in this city.” Danny said, catching the older man's slip. He shifts further in his seat and stared hard at Bruce.

Bruce knew Danny had no one in town. He did the background check, Danny's whole family lived in Ohio with the exception of his older sister who was in one of the top psychology programs in the country. They seemed to visit each other often but rarely their parents.

The older man dawned an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, I assumed when you said ‘a family friend’.” Bruce leaned back against the wall behind him, “are you from Gotham?”

“No,” Danny shifted further back in his seat and didn’t take his eyes off Bruce.

It was different from how the boy interacted with Batman. To the billionaires alter ego Danny was defiant and outspoken. He always seemed to say what was on his mind, completely uncaring of the audience he had.

——-

“Mr. Fenton, your god-father is here for you.”

Danny never thought he’d feel this relieved to know Vlad was picking him up. While Mr. Wayne had been nothing but polite, something about the man felt off. Danny also didn’t appreciate the questions. What was it to this man if Danny had family near by or not?

One of the cops opens the door with Vlad in his nice suit and overly polished shoes right behind him.

“Daniel, let’s not make this a habit.”

“I was just feeding the homeless dogs!”

“Strays.” Vlad corrected, “while trespassing?”

Danny rolled his eyes and continued pass his “uncle”.

“How am I supposed to know an abandoned building is considered ‘private property’?”

Vlad just sighed.

——

Bonus:

Stephanie would continue to stick to her story, thank you very much. She had every right to punch the creep and she wasn’t backing down. Not even if “the creep” was apparently the son of a very influential prosecutor. A corrupt one, but he was influential nonetheless. Such is the justice system in Gotham.

Even if it landed her in a police station, handcuffed to a desk while said creep cried about the bloody nose she gave him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she crossed her legs and continued to glare at the door way that led to the holding cells. It was her night off and she still had to deal with this godforsaken city’s degenerate citizens. God forbid she have a day off.

It was while glaring at said door that Steph noticed a familiar boy walking out with a gentleman she wasn’t familiar with. He was a little behind Danny but reached out and grabbed his shoulder, stopping him just before leaving the hallway. Steph slid her gaze away but kept her ears open, grateful she was close enough to hear.

“You need to be more careful, Daniel.”

Danny didn’t respond and Steph looked over to see him pull his shoulder away and start walking again.

“You didn’t have to come all this way to bail me out. I could have called Jazz or Sam.”

“Nonsense, it’s good to get out of Wisconsin.”

Steph wrinkled her nose, Wisconsin? The pair continued out of ear shot and shortly out of the station.

When Bruce was released a few minutes later, Stephanie smiled and took great joy in his obvious (to any member of his family) despair and exasperation at seeing her.

Part 8

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS! ── PART TWO.

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of emiko, mina, emi and professor sato, Kenji and you being Emi's parents, ultraman form and first part here!

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Becoming a warm routine, you and Kenji watched his old matches together, which were recorded by his mother, and it was, devoutly, impossible not to be moved by little Kenji in the presence of his teammates and Emiko's screams of celebration; who offered support and support for his son.

⤷ So, whenever you noticed the momentary change in his posture, caused by the commotion and emotion that was moving in his chest, leaving him vulnerable, you would rest your head on his shoulder and wrap one of your hands around his arm, signaling that you would always be there. supporting, loving and respecting him.

⭑.ᐟ Kenji, at every moment, in fact, always looked at your lips while you spoke, explained or even hummed something; it was automatic, he didn't know how to control it or moderate himself about it. — And he didn't even hide it, casually, he had given up trying to hide the action. — Well, it's not his fault if your mouth is so irresistible.

⤷ Yes, every time you opened your mouth, telling him how your day was or scolding him for getting hurt during a battle, there were Sato's eyes traveling over your lips.

"Emi's reflexes are improving, and Mina will examine her once more." — You said, correcting your posture on the sofa to admire the baby, who was playing with Mina, and finding it adorable. — "Oh! And she's learning another dance, you've got to see it." — Turning your head towards Kenji, you find his eyes, completely, immobilized on one part of your face, specifically, on the region of your lips. — "Ken? Can you hear me?" — No answer. — "Kenji?"

⭑.ᐟ During the beginning of your relationship, Kenji occasionally referred to you as his wife; he simply loved calling you that. — Because he felt, in his heart, that, in the future, it would be true and, in fact, official; he believed it. — Soon, it had become something so natural and special, also, very deep.

⤷ There were times, and some press conferences and magazine articles, when Sato mentioned you as his wife and didn't worry about questions from journalists. — Mainly, in his interview with Ami, when asked who he attributed his important change to.

"I wouldn't be here without my family, simple as that." — He explained, with an air of confidence and determination, focusing on his words. — "My dad, mom, wife…"

⭑.ᐟ Furthermore, Kenji refers to you as the mother — temporary, or also the second mother — of Emi; and Mina reinforced the insinuation, showing photos and videos of you to the baby, just like she did with Ken's. —Usually, when she didn't obey his orders or refused to learn something new, like a child, Kenji would declare that you wouldn't like to know about her stubbornness.

"Listen here, young lady!" — In the form of Ultraman, lurking and trying to reach the baby lizard, which was running and having fun around the base, Kenji didn't like the current situation. — "If your mother knows you don't want to take a shower, she won't be happy with you. — The robotic voice exclaimed from the place. — "And not even with me."

⭑.ᐟ You know that scene where he, in his Ultraman form, is sleeping with Emi and his father? This keeps happening between you! — Due to tiredness, exhaustion from the care you are taking with her, you and Kenji fall asleep with the big baby. — With Ken around, holding and protecting you from everything.

⭑.ᐟ When he woke up, with his clothes wrinkled and his hair completely messy and unruly, accompanied by the mug "I hate mornings", Sato found you and Mina watching Emi, who was sleeping peacefully. — After hours of singing an old and graceful lullaby, your voice had captivated the child. — He was still dazzled, but not surprised, by this situation.

"So, she fell for your charms?" — His morning voice, so hoarse and pleasant, compromising with good humor, even if a little exhausted. — "Huh?" — Arriving from behind, he rested his head on your shoulder, fitting in, as usual.

"Oh, yeah." — You answered, with conviction and grace, moving your hands to his messy hair, stroking it.— "Just like you one day fell!"

[soleilapproves]

Boxer!Sukuna who dedicates his first ever win to you

Note: female reader

Masterlist

Your heart was racing. Sukuna had prepared you for the fact that boxing arenas could get overwhelming with the constant yelling and cheering for violence, but you still felt uneasy watching your boyfriend receive punch after punch.

You knew your boyfriend was just a rookie boxer but you couldn’t help but pray that by some miracle, he would be able to defeat his opponent. He had been training specifically for this match for the past two months and had sacrificed his blood, sweat and tears for it. It didn’t help that his opponent was a seasoned winner.

Your chest tightened as Sukuna was struck down once again. All you could think about was how he would study his opponent’s moves late at night while you stayed up with him. You pressed your hands together, hoping that he would win by some miracle.

Almost as if on cue, Sukuna managed to dodge a critical hit and wound his arm to absolutely knock out his opponent. The other fighter fell on to the ground and did not get up even after the countdown. The referee grabbed Sukuna’s hand and raised it in the air as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You let out a sigh of relief and clapped as loudly as possible for your boyfriend’s triumph. It was his first win as a professional boxer. He was going to start making a name for himself pretty soon and you could only imagine what was to come after. He deserved this. It was all because of his hard work and resilience.

Sukuna’s tired eyes searched for yours in the VIP box and you smiled at him. He returned an exhausted one back to you and proceeded to do something you never expected.

He kissed his fingers and pointed to you, all your friends and in the VIP box began clamoring with teases and giggles.

Even while being adorned with his belt, Sukuna’s eyes never left yours. He mentioned earlier that your presence was integral to his success but you never knew it was to such a degree. You blew him a flowing kiss and he chuckled at the sight. He didn’t even bother to look at the cameras looming around him until his manager told him to pose for the pictures.

Of course, after his first win, he was immediately subject to a press conference. He sulked at first, hoping that he could share at least a moment with you before being bombarded with questions but he decided to get it over with so he could go home soon.

“Mr. Sukuna, how do you feel after your first win.”

“Fucking tired.” Your bruised and battered boyfriend replied. The crowded erupted into a few giggles and murmurs at his deadpan reply.

“Would you like to mention any people that helped you become a good fighter?”

“Aside from my coach, I want to dedicate my win to my girlfriend. She put up with a lot of my shit while training.”

You giggled at his reply from backstage. Supporting wasn’t a chore but it was extensive work. Cooking twice the amount of food so he could bulk, constantly having your sleep disturbed because he would train in the early hours of the morning, and not go too crazy when you ate out on dates was difficult but well worth the effort.

-

After the press conference, you two were back home. Sukuna had retired to your bedroom while you did the finishing touches of your night time skin care.

“The winner of today’s fight commands his woman’s presence.” Your boyfriend called out, urging you to hurry up. You put away your containers and walked to the bedroom. “I’m here, your majesty.” You sarcastically replied as you laid down next to him. He had a frown on his face from being alone.

He opened up the blanket to let you in and slotted you next to him with your back facing his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he tucked your head under his chin. “I forgot to congratulate you earlier.” You speak out.

He hums and squeezes you. “Thanks. Only took you 3 hours to say that.” You could almost feel him sulk.

“Can you blame me? You were surrounded by people. I needed to let you have your moment.” You reasoned.

“What about when we were driving back? It was just you and me in the car.”

“You fell asleep as soon as your ass touched the seat.”

He scoffed at your reply and pushed you away. “Whatever, it’s not like getting a congratulatory kiss from my girlfriend was the only thing I wanted.” He said as he turned his back you.

This man was a big baby. The world saw him as an upcoming and fearful fighter but here he was sulking over the fact that you didn’t give him attention.

You giggled and rubbed his back to soothe him. “I can still give you a congratulatory kiss if you want.” For a second, you swore that he almost turned around but he gave you the silent treatment instead. “Kuna,” you whined. As much as you cringed while saying it, you knew using that nickname was his weakness.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, baby. Let me give you the kind of kiss a winner deserves.” You said as you rubbed his stomach. The man turned around, eyes not meeting yours. He was still sporting the frown from earlier.

You held his face in your hands. Your fingers traced his tattoos and you could see his eyes rapidly moving because of your touch. You giggled and moved your fingers to his lips. Luckily, his opponent missed them during the fight so you could easily kiss him.

You slowly pressed your lips against his and he immediately reciprocated. While your touch was delicate with your hand on cradling face, his touch was rougher. His hand entwined in your hair as his body pressed to yours. Your tongue entered his mouth and he gladly welcomed it which a slight suck.

His free hand travelled down to your waist and rolled you on top of him. The kiss would’ve gotten more heated if he didn’t wince all of a sudden.

“What’s wrong, Kuna?”

He propped you back down on the bed. And grabbed the area right beneath his chest. “Ah shit, I forgot about my rib getting bruised.” You grimaced at the thought of him being in pain.

“Want me to get some ice? I can always sleep on the couch so I don’t end up accidentally kicking you.” You said out of concern.

His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.” He grabbed ahold of your waist again and just pulled you close to him. “I didn’t win that trophy so my girlfriend could sleep on the couch. And since I’m a boxing champion, I can handle a few punches from you.”

“But-“

“Shush.” He pecked you on the lips to keep you from protesting. “This is how I wanna celebrate my first win. With you next to me.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Best Laid Plans

Summary: Y/N has a plan to torment Jensen a little. But we all know what they say about the best laid plans.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: It's just smut. 😁 Teasing. Sexting. Slightly dom!Jensen & sub!reader. Semi-public nudity. Orgasm denial (sorta). Masturbation. (sorta). Dirty talk.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1,500

A/N: So, I've been planning on writing something with this picture since it was released during JibCon 14. I have no idea what he was talking about, thinking about, or what was being discussed at this moment. So, context has been completely removed in deference to my lust-filled, trash-heap mind. So...enjoy, I hope! 😁❤️

A/N 2: As always this story is about a Jensen from a different part of the multiverse who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

Jensen Ackles RPF Master List || Main Master List

He had plans for you. So. Many. Plans…

You had been teasing him for hours and hours, sending him naughty pics that he tried to ignore, but simply couldn’t. He opened your latest text on stage, knowing it was going to be filthy, but incapable of waiting. He let Misha answer the question while he pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked open the text.

You could see him struggling not to react. 

The photo had been taken from above. That had been a bit tricky to rig up. You’d been afraid someone would come in and think you were some creep trying to take pictures of people in the bathroom. But you’d managed to get the shot without an audience. 

The shot in question was of you in a bathroom stall, leaning against the door. Your tight sweater was pulled up and you gripped one fleshy breast in your hand, squeezing hard. Your short skirt was lifted, hips thrust forward while your hand was buried in your panties. Your head was thrown back, a look of ecstasy on your face, as you touched yourself.

At the bottom, in pink puffy letters, were the words, “Thinking of You.”

From the front row you watched Jensen shift restlessly on the tall stool he sat on, discreetly adjusting his jeans. His gaze found you in the audience, and he leveled a steely look your way. The look said he had plans for you. So. Many. Plans.

It was such a long panel after that. That look had shifted the game between you two. Now it was you who couldn’t sit still, shifting and trying to subtly press your thighs together. Every once in a while, Jensen stared you down again with another heated look and your core muscles clenched and your stomach almost ached with want. 

You’d never felt so empty, you were desperate to have him fill you up, and by the time the panel ended you were practically panting. You rose with everyone as they left to go to photo ops with the boys. But when you walked out of the auditorium, Jensen was there.

People shouted out greetings and he smiled and gave them a wave, but he quickly ushered you down the hallway, his hand possessively resting on the small of your back and propelling you forward.

He pushed you into an empty conference room. It was much smaller than the hall you’d come from, but still spacious. But when Jensen clicked the lock on the door, it seemed to shrink to a very tiny space, consisting of only the two of you and the air you breathed.

Jensen turned to face you and that same look was back in his eye. You let out a nervous giggle, anticipation singing in your veins. 

“Did you like the pictures?” You asked coyly.

Jensen smirked and shook his head. “Think you’re pretty funny, don’t you, baby? Trying to distract me on stage? Make me stumble over my words? Make me fight to stay calm? To do my damnedest not to get a fucking hard on in front of everyone?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, it was fun. You should have seen your face.”

That expression was back, the one that said he was going to ruin you; god knew your panties were already ruined.

Jensen tilted his head and a devilish smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Why don’t you recreate that last picture for me now?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jensen’s voice was low and demanding, “go lean against that wall and pose for me. Just exactly how you did in that bathroom.”

You shook your head. The point had been to make him hot and bothered so he wouldn’t wait, wouldn’t hesitate to fuck you stupid the second he was off stage.

You started to protest. “But I-”

“Now.” His voice didn’t get any louder, but it was firm and hard and brooked no argument.

With butterflies in your stomach you moved over to get into the pose. Nerves made your hands shake as you lifted your sweater up and slid down a bra strap so you could pull out your right breast. 

Suddenly you were wondering; how strong was that door lock? How many people had keys? 

God! What if they have cameras monitoring the room? You thought frantically. 

But despite those worries you did as Jensen said, raising your skirt and slipping your right hand into your panties as your left hand crossed your body to take your tit into your palm and squeeze. 

A soft cry fell from your lips as your sensitive nipples reacted to the pressure.

“Perfect.” Jensen said quietly.

He moved over to pull a chair out from one of the tables, and sat down on it, crossing his legs to rest his ankle on his other knee. He folded his arms over his chest and just stared at you for nearly a full minute. You began to tremble slightly under his scrutiny. 

“Jensen?” You asked softly, slightly confused with his plan now.

Jensen held a finger up to his lips. “Shh! No talking sweetheart. I want you to show me what you were doing in that stall. Touch yourself. Rub your clit and tug on your nipple.”

“But I thought, I mean I want you to fuck me.” Your voice was a whine.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “I know what you want, baby. But you spent all morning and afternoon teasing me, so you don’t deserve to be fucked just yet.” He nodded at you. “Now, do as I say.”

With a little whimper you followed his instructions, rubbing your middle finger in circles on your clit and tugging roughly on your breast. Your breath caught as you chased your high and your head thumped back against the wall as you panted out your need. 

You started to slip your finger into your opening, but Jensen shook his head. “No!” He barked out. “I didn’t say you could fuck yourself. I said to touch yourself.”

You moaned out your misery. “I’m so empty, Jensen, please. I need you, need your cock to fill me up.” Your hips fucked the air, as your finger twirled around your clit. 

"Aww, poor baby.” Jensen teased you with a wicked smile. “Are you uncomfortable? Can’t find satisfaction when you’re aching for it? That must be tough.”

You knew you deserved the torture for all your impish delights throughout the day, but you still whimpered as you continued the torment on yourself.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and you squeaked, pulling your hand out of your panties and starting to adjust your clothes, but Jensen held up his hand, finger raised. “Don’t even think about it. Stay the way you were.”

“Jensen!” You whispered loudly.

He shot you a look that said, “obey” and you could only comply, resuming your previous position.

Jensen walked to the door and opened it slightly. Thankfully you could stay hidden on the other side of it.

The person on the other side sounded rushed. “Jensen, you’re supposed to be at your photo ops. They’re waiting for you.”

Jensen nodded. “K, give me just a second.” He closed the door and walked towards you. He reached forward and pushed your hand aside to rub you through your panties. You bit your lip hard to keep from moaning.

“I’ve gotta go, sweetheart. But I want to see you in this exact position when I get back.”

Your eyes got round and wide. “What? You can’t leave me here like this!” You squeaked at him in a pseudo-whisper. 

But he ignored you. “If I come back and you’ve moved, I’ll make sure you don’t come for days, I promise you that.”

“Jensen.” You whined. The idea of being left in this room, half naked and waiting for him to come back, had your slick dripping down your inner thigh.

He took his hand away from you and then leaned forward to kiss you swift and hard. He trailed his lips across your jaw and then whispered into your ear, his breath hot. 

“Can’t let my naughty girl get away with anything, can I? Be good, be patient, and when I get back in an hour, I’ll bend you over that table and fuck you till you can’t walk.”

He pulled back to see your face, and then bent forward and licked your lips open, kissing you again, deeper and more lingering. Before you could really be satisfied with it though, he stepped back from you.

He gave his head a shake. “God, I fucking love you like this, sweetheart. All desperate and dripping, and just aching for my cock.” He groaned lightly. “Trust me, this is gonna hurt me a lot more than it hurts you.”

With that he spun away from you and walked out the door, leaving you there to try and figure out just how your plan had backfired so magnificently.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

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[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Postcard Marks the Spot

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Canon typical torture that's about it in this one.

Author’s Note: Soooo..... I lied. There's definitely going to be more parts to this. All because I can't control myself. And if the muse wants to see this through, then I'm gonna do just that. You'll need to read the first two parts of this to understand what's going on. Don't forget to follow @xxwritemeastoryxxlibrary and turn on notifications just in case tumblr doesn't notify you with the tags.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Phantom Masterlist || MCU Masterlist || Taglist

Her throat was raw from screaming. If it hadn't been for the mouth guard she was sure she would have broken teeth from clenching her jaw tightly as the electricity pulsed through her. The numbness she felt once the machine stopped barely gave her relief. 

Fight it. You can fight it. The words she constantly repeated on a loop from the moment they first placed her into the chair. You are strong enough to fight this. You made it through worse.

"Who are you?" A woman's voice filled the air but she refused to find the source. 

This wasn't the first time she heard the question and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. It was a question to see how much of her memories had been taken. To gage how much more they needed to subject her through. 

Her answers varied with each time. At first she only told them to fuck off. Or occasionally she'd get the chance to spit in the face of the doctor that stood too close to her. The more they began to chisel away at her, the more her answers changed. 

Just a random stranger. 

The person that's going to kill you when I get out of this chair. 

An ex Avenger.

Y/N. 

Phantom

The moment the mouth guard was pulled from her lips. She panted out her birth name. The name she had barely remembered from her time in the Red Room. The name that had been taken from her the moment she sat in the chair for the first time. 

It was the name that held no real meaning to her anymore. She had felt more of an attachment to the fake name she had been going by for the last handful of years than the name she had been born with. Yet at that very moment, that's the only name she remembered. 

She watched as the woman standing in front of her wrote on the clipboard after she had spoken. As she did, she tried to remember how she had gotten there or how she even ended up strapped to the chair. The more she tried to remember the more her head hurt, and not just from the process they subjected her to. 

"Do you know who this is?" 

Another question they kept asking her before holding up a series of photos. Sometimes it'd be a group photo of the Avengers at a press conference or individual photos of each of them. Other times it'd be a photo of her original handler or several other faces recognizable through Hydra’s history. And each time she gave the appropriate answer to ensure they knew her memory was fine. 

Until it wasn't. It was taking her longer to answer. Longer to figure out if she actually knew who she was looking at. At the beginning she'd easily say their names without any hesitation. But as each session progressed, she'd fight harder to remember their names. Sometimes she couldn’t at all. 

A photo of Bucky was held up for her to see this time. By the looks of it the photo had been taken on a mission. His brows had been furrowed in concentration as he held a gun up, ready to pull the trigger when needed. 

There were plenty of things going on in the photo, but she could only get her eyes to focus on his eyes. How familiar they had been to her no matter how many times she had seen them before and during her current situation. 

With the familiarity came a sadness that filled her chest. A pain that she no longer understood why it had been there as she looked at his eyes. But it lingered in the pit of her stomach. But she knew him. Otherwise there'd be no familiar feeling as she looked at the photo. 

Her brows furrowed as she tried to get her brain to work. To pull the information out from behind the wall that is being put up. After a moment an echo of his laugh filled her mind. 

His laughter had been contagious the whole night. It was a sight she hadn't seen before and she was enjoying every moment of it, committing it to memory as if it was the last time she'd ever hear him laugh like that.

His vibranium arm had been holding several bags filled with merchandise he had acquired through the night. Y/N had enjoyed watching him go from booth to booth and taking everything in before deciding that what the vendor was selling was worth the price and bought it without second guessing himself. 

Taking Bucky to a smaller fantasy based convention for his birthday was something that he never once expected to ever do. But seeing the excitement on his face as he went through the whole day pulling her to the different booths that caught his attention had been worth it. 

For the first time since completely turning her back on Hydra, she got to really get to know who Bucky was. And from the moment she found the flier advertising the convention, she knew she had to take him. 

"You have no idea how much I needed this." Bucky said as he pulled her closer to his side and put his arm around her shoulder. "I don't know how to express how much I appreciate you pushing me to give this a chance."

"Seeing you this happy and excited is all the expression I need." She kissed his cheek before giving him a smile. "Happy Birthday Bucky."

"His name is James Barnes." She said a moment later as she lifted her head up slightly to look at the doctor in front of her. "He's an Avenger. Former Winter Soldier and hostage of Hydra, just as I am."

A small tsk followed by a sigh came from the doctor. Before she knew it, the mouth guard was being forced back into her mouth. 

She braced herself for the blow. But no matter how many times she had experienced it, her body was never prepared for the current of electricity being sent through her. 

At the sound of the door opening, the doctor didn't bother to look up from the page she continued to write notes on. "This process would go a lot faster if we had her book." 

"That was never recovered." A soldier responded as he came to a stop beside the doctor. His eyes moved over to chair the moment a new wave of screams left her mouth. "We can only go by the pages we've found that Pierce had copied during his temporary time as her handler." 

"And nothing has come up from when you captured her?" The doctor looked up at the soldier before checking the watch on her wrist. 

"No." The soldier responded. "For all we know she could have destroyed it along with the base." 

"What are the chances of inserting new commands?" The doctor asked as she wrote a few more things on the clipboard before nodding her head to her assistant, indicating to turn off the machine. 

He watched as Phantom sagged in the chair, panting. He had seen the fire in her eyes the day they brought her in. As she opened her eyes, he could tell that fire had been snuffed out. There would only be a few more times needed if they were lucky.

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "There's only one way to find out. "

___

It wasn't long after Bucky explained the meaning of the postcard that the team found themselves back on the quinjet. There was no actual plan of action or data to go off of. Only a destination based off of the location on the front of the postcard.

"What are the chances of her still being there?" Natasha asked, looking over at Bucky. 

Their destination was only a few minutes away and all of them, especially Bucky were getting antsy. They weren't sure what would come from this trip. For it being 3 weeks since the postcard had been sent, they expected to almost find nothing once they landed. 

"Slim to none." His attention was on the postcard in his hand. He hadn't put it down since Sam had handed it to him. His fleshed fingers would occasionally run along the grooves of her writing. "For her to send this, there had to be no other way of getting out of it." 

"Then why send the postcard?" Sam asked. 

Bucky’s eyes looked over the writing on the back for the millionth time. He could hear her words play through his mind. Okay, worst ever possible case scenario. He realized now that it wasn't just a random scenario. It was a just in case idea if either of them would ever need it. 

He now understood why she had done it. They both had a past with Hydra. It was only a matter of time until someone attempted to get them within their grasp. Y/N knew she would be the easier target with the programming still locked within her mind. 

This was her way of subtly adding in the details just in case something came up. And while the first stake out with the potential scenarios had been a few months after her escape from Hydra, she wanted it embedded in any way she could. 

"It lets us know where to start looking." He responded a moment later. "Someone could have seen something. Or if she was keeping anything with her, that'd be where she left it. If we're lucky, we'll find something that will let us know at least in what direction Hydra went."

"Not to be the downer on the thought process," Sam began as he leaned forward in his seat. "What if that is the only thing we have to go on? She's been damn near impossible to even get a trail on after she stopped using the safe houses. For Hydra to find her, they've got something we don't and any trace of that could be gone." 

That had crossed Bucky’s mind several times on the way over. Each thought process comes to the same two ends. On one hand there was a possibility that there'd be nothing else to go on. On the other, there was ache in his chest that screamed she'd leave something behind for him to find. 

"What is it?" She asked as she finished wrapping her wounded hand in gauze. Bucky's brows had been furrowed as if he'd been thinking hard about something.

"Your hypothetical today." He said with a sigh. "I couldn't stop thinking about it." 

She ran her good hand along her face. "Was it the Hydra question?" She watched as he nodded before she closed the distance between them. "If there's one thing I know, you'll always be free from them." She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked up at him. "You're strong enough to fight without them getting into your head. And I'd be there guns ablazing to pull you out before they could try anything." 

He chuckled as he placed his hands on top of hers. "Humor me. What's waiting on the other side of the postcard?" 

She shook her head slightly, a smile pulling at her lips. "There’d be hope waiting on the other side. Whatever we have with us. My heart." They both chuckled. "If I ever needed to use Siberia, I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be." 

"You just have to trust me when I say this might be more than just a postcard." Bucky said as he looked over at Sam. 

____

Once landed, the team had split up. Bucky took one look at his surroundings and gave the others several locations to search. Especially places he knew would have vantage points of the town. While any other time he'd willingly go searching for any sign of Y/N, he knew he had to be the one to go to the shop on the postcard. 

He, along with Tony and Natasha, began making their way through the center of the town. Vendors lined both sides of the street. And as the town normally did, crowds gathered at each vendor.

Bucky’s eyes had constantly been scanning the area. They never settled in one spot for too long. They were scanning for the shop or anything that could be lurking around. If Hydra was still around, he didn't want to be caught off guard. 

When the small shop came into view, Bucky’s pace picked up as he made his way over. He hadn't cared if the others had taken a second longer to realize where he was going. He hadn't cared how the bell rattled loudly against the door as he roughly pulled it open moments later. He just hoped that there was something. Anything to lead him in the right direction of Y/N. 

As he scanned his eyes over the shop, he noticed three things. One, the way a glare formed on the shop owner's face before his eyes widened in surprise. Second, was the empty spot in the aisle that Bucky could only assume once held shelves. And third, his nose could pick up on the lingering scent of bleach. 

There was no doubt that something had happened within the shop. He felt some relief that something had happened instead of coming up empty the moment he walked in. He felt it in his gut that she had been there. That the postcard hadn't led to a dead end. 

He could almost imagine the path into the shop she would have taken before she reached the rotating shelf of postcards. The back and front entrance was visible no matter where she was within the shop. Several aisles filled with anything she could possibly grab to help her. He understood why it had to be this shop. 

"You're the Avengers." The shop owner noted as Tony and Natasha began to walk towards him. Bucky followed behind shortly after and noticed how the shop owner's face quickly steeled over as if he was supposed to be that way from the beginning. 

"At least that makes things easier." Tony said  as he looked at Bucky and Natasha before looking back at the shop owner. Tony opened his mouth to continue when the shop owner quickly interrupted. 

"Are you safe?" Bucky watched as the man asked Tony. He seemed not to care about what Tony may have wanted to ask and it made Bucky curious as to why. 

"Safe?" A confused look formed on Tony’s face. "Of course I'm safe." Tony then pulled up a projection of Y/N. "Have you seen her come in?" 

The owner looked at the projection for a moment before shaking his head. "No." He looked towards Natasha. "Are you safe?" 

The three of them looked at each other for a moment before Natasha nodded her head. "I'm safe. We're all safe. We're just looking for our friend to make sure she is safe." 

It was Natasha’s words that clicked something in Bucky’s mind. Anyone else would have just given an answer about if they had seen Y/N or not. But this man had been intentionally avoiding any questions about Y/N. 

All he cared about was asking if they were safe. A question that seemed pointless given the current circumstances. But Y/N had sent him a postcard with a coded message. A code that had been tied into the steps he had created with a scenario she had come up with for the sake of making a stakeout easier to handle. 

The owner shook his head slightly before looking at Bucky. There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading that one of them knew how to respond. "Are you safe?" 

An annoyed sigh passed Tony’s lips at the words but Bucky nodded his head. "Pancakes."

"What?" Both Tony and Natasha said at the same time. 

"I'll explain later."  Bucky shrugged. 

A smile pulled at the shop owner's lips as he kept his eyes on Bucky. "Your preference?"

Bucky chuckled at the memory that crossed his mind. One that left him and Y/N tangled in each other before the smoke alarm went off. "Regular, but the burnt ones made the memories." 

The shop owner nodded his head quickly. "One moment." He moved away from the counter and made his way towards the back room. 

Bucky looked over to find Natasha and Tony sharing the same look of curiosity. Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "Y/N played this smart. Anyone else would have given you an answer about if they saw her. Not look directly at an image of her and lie before asking the same thing to the person standing next to you." He looked over at Nat. "He completely ignored what you said after asking. But when you mentioned we were making sure Y/N was safe, it hit me what the phrase was. So I gave it to him." 

Before Natasha or Tony could respond in any way, the shop owner came back carrying a decorative box. One that was decent in size but small enough to be held in one hand. 

"Your friend said to give this to you." He held it out for Bucky. Bucky gently reached out to take it from him. "She told me she'd only trust the person who could answer correctly. Said what was left of her life was in that box." 

"Thank you." Bucky said as he brought the box closer to him. His eyes never left the lid of the box as he had. 

I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be.

Part of him was afraid to even look inside of it. If this was all she had kept with her, it added to the guilt that was already hooked within him. The other part of him wanted to know what items the box contained that would help put him in the right direction in finding her.

"Was this where she was taken?" 

Bucky had heard Natasha’s voice ask the question. But his brain wasn't fully latching onto the conversation as his focus was now on opening the box. 

"No. She killed two of them here before she left. Tourists saw soldiers take her down at the next block over." 

She fought her way out.That would explain the empty space and smell of bleach. Bucky thought as he placed the box and the lid on the counter top in front of him. The box had been filled halfway with items Y/N had put in there. 

At first glance Bucky could see some pictures. Pictures that made a small tick of a smile pull at his lips. A strip of photos from a booth stuck out and he gently pulled it out taking in the images. 

His heart longed for the moments the camera had captured. The smile on both of their faces as they looked at each other instead of the camera. How her eyes had shined so beautifully as she looked over at him. Or how he kissed her at the right time for the last photo. The first time he ever kissed her was captured for them in a small square photo. 

His face fell as that guilty feeling poked out at him. He hated himself for forcing her to leave. He hated that he waited so long to start visiting safe houses and leaving her messages. Messages that had been left unanswered as those safe houses stayed vacant. 

Sighing, he placed the picture strip back on top and lifted the pile of photos to stand against the edge of the box. Underneath the photos were a few folded maps. 

Maps of the different locations she had been in over the last year and a half. Circles and Xs were visible in certain locations. No doubt places she deemed safe and places to stay clear of. On the top right corner of the first map, her writing had caught his interest quickly.

If you're reading this, thank you for coming. You didn't have to, but you did. You are the only person who would understand the contents of this. Keep it safe. Keep it hidden. I trust you with it. 

His eyebrow raised as he lifted the maps. Beneath them were two journals stacked on top of each other. One of them he recognized right away. The other not so much. 

The one he recognized had been Y/N’s journal. One that she had kept with her on every mission, every vacation, and that she wrote in nightly. Her favorite color protected the pages she had been writing on. And by the simple glance of it, there were only a few more pages left untouched. 

When he pulled the second journal out, his heart dropped. The black leather journal stared right up at him. The white lettering on the front was bright against the cover. The journal is newer in comparison to the one that still occasionally haunts his dreams. 

His fleshed fingers ran over the etched lettering in the leather. Each letter he traced with his finger proved further that Y/N did her best to make sure no one could just come along and surprise her. She'd go down as herself and not as the asset they made her into. 

As his fingers came to the last letter on the cover, flashes of a red journal appeared across his mind. How he loathed the memories of sitting in that suppressing machine and seeing the soldier in front of him read from the journal. How a journal such as that one, and the one in his hand, had the capability to take away a person's free will in an instant. 

Phantom. The front of the cover stated. It wasn't a symbol like the one he had seen being used during his time in Hydra’s hold. A single word that held more secrets than a symbol. 

Every detail about her time as Phantom was sitting in his hand. Her trigger words, the torment and conditioning she had been subjected to, along with notes from her handlers about her missions would be within the pages of the journal. The one thing that kept her from ever falling into the wrong hands without a fight and he now had it. 

She trusted him with the very detailed past she tried so hard to keep hidden from him. Trusted him with the very thing that could be used against her time and time again if allowed. He had it in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to watch it burn.

Who asked to be tagged:

@lady-loki-barnes-djarin

Phantom Taglist:

@anna97almeida

All WorksTag (The tag to be notified for everything I write):

@mrs-maximoff-kenner @mizzzpink @friendelius @thatfanficstuff @mushroomelephant @23victoria @avengers-fixation @fayeatheart @my-soulmate-is-mycroft

Excelsior Tag(All MCU fics):

@hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @old-enough-to-know-better73 @elijahs-wife @kpopgirlbtssvt @theartofhotchinthesnow @bluebear142077 @thatweirdoleigh @loving-life-my-way

Winter Soldier tag(For only and all things Bucky):

@fandom-princess-forevermore @freyathehuntress @emerald-writes

[just-dreaming-marvel]

I'm From Brooklyn, Too ~ 163

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

I'M FROM BROOKLYN, TOO MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,945ish

Summary: John Walker uses the shield to kill someone. Natasha and Y/N take matters into their own hands.

Notes: I hope that this chapter makes sense. Please let me know if you enjoy it!

“Y/N, I know that I promised to call. I’m sorry. But right now—“

“Bucky,” tears were collecting in her eyes, “I need you.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay? Is Morgan okay?” Bucky’s questions came at a rapid speed, not allowing Y/N to get a word in before he spouted the next one. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the hospital.”

“The hospital?!”

“I had a seizure.”

“You had a… a seizure? I thought your powers wouldn’t allow that?”

“Because of what I did during John’s press conference, we decided to try and control my powers.”

“What did they do to you?”

“Bucky, I chose to wear the bracelets. I knew that this could be a consequence. But… But I didn’t think it would actually happen… Bucky… I’m scared.”

“I know, doll. I know.”

“Where are you? I… I need you.”

Bucky sighed. “I’m stuck in a situation right now. But I’ll be on my way back to the States soon… I need you to do something for me, doll. Don’t watch the news.”

“Why not? Did something happen?”

“I will tell you what happened when I get there, but I need you to promise me to not watch the news.”

“Bucky—“

“Promise me. I can’t have your powers controlling you or have you seizing up before I get there.”

“I promise.”

Before Bucky could hang up, Natasha and Rhodey came bursting through the door.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked.

“It’s John Walker,” Rhodey responded.

“Don’t—“

“He just killed a man on multiple livestreams… using the shield.”

“B—Bucky?” Y/N stuttered, trying to reign in her swirl of emotions.

“Stay with me, doll,” Bucky encouraged.

“What are you doing right now?”

Bucky sighed. “Chasing after Walker.”

“Get the shield back and come home… Please.”

“I’ll do my best.” Then he hung up.

“I’ve got to go handle this,” Rhodey stated. “Keep me updated on your progress and what you decide to do with the bracelets.” Rhodey left before Y/N could even reply.

“Nat…” Y/N breathed out. “You need to get these bracelets off of me… before I throw myself into another seizure. I promise that I’ll stay put and not go after John myself, but you need to get these off me. Now.”

“I’m on it,” Natasha said, quickly pulling out her phone and accessing FRIDAY.

The bracelets on Y/N’s wrists suddenly unlatched and fell into her lap. Y/N gasped as the feeling of her powers rushed back.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N responded. “It’s just a lot… Rhodey’s going to be pissed.”

“Rhodey can deal with it. He’s just forgotten reality since he became the President.”

Y/N nodded, thinking about what was going on outside of this room. “I want to go rip the shield from John’s hands.”

“I know… What if we went together? I could claim to be monitoring you and we could teach him a lesson ourselves. I’ve been feeling the need to kick some ass.”

“I’m in.” Y/N closed her eyes and held her hand up, twisting her wrist slightly as green emanated from her fingertips.

“What was that?”

“A nice trick to guarantee that we don’t miss out on any of the action.”

~~~

The warehouse was dark and the air thick with tension. Almost as soon as Natasha and Y/N stepped through the portal, time began again. They had both changed into their old SHIELD suits and weaponed up in case this turned into a major fight. As they turned the corner, they saw John Walker kneeling with the bloody shield on the ground.

“Romanoff?” Sam questioned, jogging in the women’s direction with Bucky right behind him. The two looked like they had already been in a major fight.

“Y/N?” Bucky called.

“It was my idea to come,” Natasha quickly said. 

John glanced to look at who was with him. He shook his head and chuckled.

“You called for backup?” John taunted. 

“They didn’t call,” Y/N stated, stepping closer. “We heard what you did.”

John stood up and began pacing, holding the shield on his arm. “They saw what happened. Barnes and Wilson know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John,” Bucky tried to reason with him. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

“I’m not like you.”

“Damn right,” Y/N muttered. “You’re worse.”

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle. Okay?” Sam tried. “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

Y/N noticed how Natasha was watching the trails of blood, sliding down the shield and dripping onto the floor. 

“You gotta give me the shield, man,” requested Sam.

“Oh, so that’s what this is,” John’s voice was getting louder. “That’s really why they’re here, isn’t it?” He motioned to Y/N and Natasha, who were both ready to pounce at any second. “To force the shield from me.”

“That’s exactly what we’re here for,” Natasha replied, taking a step towards John.

“You almost got me.”

“You made a mistake,” Sam was urging John to see reason.

“You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, “we do.”

Natasha ran forward and kicked John back before he could use the shield to deflect. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. Y/N moved her hands ever so slightly, causing nearby ropes and metal to latch onto John’s limbs and pin him to the ground.

“Y/N—“ 

“No, Sam,” Y/N interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s mine!” John shouted, thrashing around as much as he could in the bindings. “It’s mine! I’m Captain America!”

Natasha pressed her foot to John’s chest, causing him to cough some. She leaned down to look at him face-to-face “You will never be Captain America,” Natasha’s voice was scarily quiet.

With a slight move of Natasha’s head, Y/N walked over and used her powers to retrieve the shield from John. She quickly cleaned it and opened up a portal. Natasha stepped off of John and the two women disappeared with the shield before the men could say anything more.

~~~

Natasha had scrubbed the shield herself at least a dozen times now. Y/N was inside the house, watching her old friend. Y/N was feeling incredibly guilty. Since Tony died, Y/N had been incredibly selfish. Natasha had been there at every moment, picking up the pieces that Y/N left behind and taking care of Morgan. But at no point did anyone think to check on Natasha. As she repeatedly washed the shield, it was clear that Nat was not okay.

“Nat,” Y/N called as she stepped out onto the porch. Natasha continued to scrub away at the shield. “Natasha, you’re going to peel the paint.” Ignored again. With a sigh, Y/N used her powers to turn off the water. “Tell me what’s going through your head.”

“Steve would’ve hated John,” she whispered, eyes still focused on the shield. “He would have been so disappointed in Sam giving up the shield and the damage John has done to the mantle.”

“I’m sure he would have destroyed so many punching bags.”

“Tony would have been pissed about the punching bags.”

“Yet, he would have constantly been on the phone trying to figure out how to punish John.”

A tear slipped down Natasha’s cheek and fell onto the shield. “I miss them… I miss… I miss the good old days.”

Y/N let out a playful scoff as she sat on the porch steps. “The good old days? When were those?”

“There were small periods like when we were all living in the Tower or when the Compound was first built that it felt like one big happy family… There were even times after Morgan and you were home from the hospital that I felt like we were all going to be okay. Now…”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, Nat. Putting too much on you. And I realize that a lot of it is my fault. You have constantly been there for me and my… well my more choices.”

Natasha shook her head. “Y/N, your husband died. Your brother left you. None of that was your choice. You needed help.”

“Some things were choices. Westview. My powers. I am to blame… Nat, you need to take care of yourself. You lost Steve and Tony, too. They were your friends. You watched people turn to dust and you stayed to help me and my family. You saved the universe, losing friends in the process, and you stayed to help… It’s time for me to help you.”

Tears were still falling down Natasha’s cheeks. It was rare to see the tough spy break like this. “I don’t know where to start. I… I’m not ready to move out. I love Morgan too much and you need help too. And I… I can’t be alone anymore.”

“You never have to move out, Nat. You can stay forever. I love having you here and so does Morgan. What I mean is that you need to go to yoga or start seeing a therapist. Maybe you start teaching self-defense classes or you were working with Pepper at one point, go back to that. You need something for yourself, Natasha.”

“There’s very few things in my life that I’ve done for myself.”

“It’s time to change that.”

~~~ 

Rhodey wasn’t happy about Y/N choosing to take her bracelets off or that she and Nat decided to retrieve the shield themselves. He was glad that the shield was no longer in John’s grasp. Rhodey informed the two women of a Senate hearing about what John had done and invited the two to speak at it. They both declined.

May still had Morgan, after the little girl and Peter convinced the adults to let her stay a little bit longer. Y/N was cleaning up the house, there alone, while Natasha was out running errands. She could sense the man coming to the door before there was ever a knock. Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked over to the door and opened it. Bucky was standing on the porch, hands hiding in his jacket as he nervously glanced around.

“Bucky,” Y/N breathed out, “come on in.” She opened the door wider.

“Thanks,” he muttered, stepping inside. “You have quite the security team out there. Didn’t think you’d need something like that.”

“My actions during John’s interview caused some riots. Rhodey put security on me.”

“To protect you or them?”

Y/N shrugged. “Both. Have a seat.” She motioned to the couch. Bucky nodded, sitting on one end while Y/N sat on the other. 

“I didn’t know if you still wanted to talk after you and Natasha disappeared with the shield.”

“Of course, I still want to talk. What happened with John wasn’t your fault.” She reached over and gently touched his arm. “I’m glad you came.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know… we’ve both hurt each other in different ways for so long.”

“I’m sorry, for everything.”

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

Bucky moved closer and removed his metal hand from his jacket pocket. He took her hand in his and carefully held it. “I’ve missed you.”

“You have no idea,” Y/N began crying. “Can we… somehow, after almost a hundred years, simply start over?”

“We can try.” Bucky turned to better face you. “Hi, my name is James and I would like to take you out on a date.”

next chapter >

[gabessquishytum]

I have a dom/coach dream and sub/tennis pro hob expansion!

With dream as hob’s coach and his dom, all rolled into one package, you can’t call what they have a typical relationship. Dream isn’t buying him jewelry or flowers and hob isn’t taking him to dinner and pulling his chair out. But they are utterly wrapped up in each other and hob’s tennis career. It is too all-encompassing for the word boyfriend.

They don’t even really talk about it other than arranging their boundaries and communicating about it what is off-limits (which is not much.) dream takes excellent care of hob. he prides himself on it. But it isn’t a relationship.

Dream punishes and rewards hob. He picks his meals and checks over every inch of his body to ensure he is at peak performance. He knows all the ways to make hob cry and beg and promise to be good. He’s had hob on his knees warming his cock for hours but it isn’t a relationship.

Of course one night hob is caught with a hickey he didn’t quite disguise and suddenly everyone is wondering who his secret lover is.

Hob laughs it off like he does whenever he gets hit on and he plays along at press conferences and events, but he has no idea what to do. Is he supposed to confirm that he isn’t single? When Dream isn’t his?

(He certainly is Dream’s, but he knows so little about Dream beyond how his fingers feel twisting inside his needy hole, or how hard Dream is going to spank him based on how furrowed his eyebrows are.

So hob lies and pretends it’s someone else. Anyone else. While dream can only seethe at the very idea that anyone else could own hob, could do even a fraction of what dream can do for him.

It’s going to come to a head. Hob wants more. He wants everything. But he isn’t sure he can have it.

Oh I am rolling around and kicking my legs in the air!!! My emotions!!!!!! I'm obsessed with this "relationship" being both everything and nothing. They spend nearly every day together, they're completely wound up in each other and it's SO intense... but at the same time it doesn't feel properly intimate. There's a coldness. They don't talk about anything that isn't tennis, Hob’s career, Hob’s progress and potential. They're both desperate for more but what if it ruins everything?

Maybe Hob picks up an injury. It's not super serious, it's not going to take him out of the season completely. But it happens during a match and it's painful, and Hob is trying very hard not to cry in front of everyone because it hurts, and he'll have to concede the match and Dream will be so disappointed. But. Dream is there. On court with him, helping him pack up his stuff, shielding him from the crowd and the TV cameras. Once they make it to the locker room Hob is crying hard and saying sorry over and over while his physio checks out the injury. Dream cradles Hob’s head against his chest and hushes him, comforts him. He still holds him when Hob is all cried out and exhausted.

Back at the hotel with his injury treated, Dream gets in between Hob’s legs and gives him the most tender, loving blowjob. He kisses Hob’s hole over and over and slips his tongue inside, and Hob is wondering why? Why is Dream rewarding him like this? When all he did was fuck up in front of all those people?

All Dream will say is "I want to take care of you." Which sounds suspiciously like "I love you." But Hob isn't going to push him. He falls asleep in Dream’s arms, and in the morning Dream is awake and watching him closely - instead of good morning, he says "you belong to me." It's not a question. It's not a demand or a threat. It's just a fact.

And Hob is in pain, but he can't stop smiling. He's going to win every trophy and lay them all at the feet of this man, this man who owns him. And loves him, too.

[strangernstranger]

I’m On Fire

Eddie x Fem Reader (request)

Summary: It was a harmless crush what you and Eddie shared yet so damning you were forced to keep him at a distance. It would be hell for you if your father found out but you just couldn’t stay away…

(Contains descriptions of abuse, alcoholism and violent behavior.)

Part 2

——— Back pressed to the door, you counted the footsteps just outside. Three from your bedroom, ten towards the living room, twenty to the kitchen. The footfalls grew quieter with each number. Like counting claps of thunder after a lightening strike, you were measuring the distance of a passing storm. It seemed you were finally in the clear. The breath hitched in your throat released in a quiver as the tension in your posture softened.

You blinked past the tears as you approached your vanity. You assessed the damage under the warm lamplight. Red indentations from your father’s grasp colored the soft skin of your upper arm. You could still feel the pressure of his fingertips pressing into the muscle as he held you in place. Not that it was necessary. You knew better than to walk away when he talked to you. Still, he grabbed you harshly during your berating to remind you of your place. To remind you that you were ungrateful and an overall disappointment as a daughter. You lifted your arm to further examine the sensitive skin. It was going to bruise. The remaining blemishes from the last altercation with your father still hadn’t healed. Fading from violet and gray to a sickly shade of yellow, they were gradually getting better but more would take their place. At least your father had the decency to leave marks in places easy to conceal. Not that it was for your benefit. Instead it was meant to save his own ass. Ever since a parent teacher conference was called to discuss a bruise on your cheek you refused to explain, the injuries became more elusive though just as frequent.

You’d gotten good at hiding the hell that was your home life. Adept at burying the hurt so that you could carry out daily tasks like going to school without question. The next morning, you slid your hair over the collar of your flannel over shirt and primped in the mirror one last time before heading for the door.

“Hey.” A unwelcomed voice grated. Your hand froze on the door knob. You were seconds away from a clean escape.

“Yea, Dad?” He was leaning against the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in hand, watching you past the door frame as if he were waiting for you. His hair was disheveled. Eyes still bloodshot from a previous night of drinking. It was rare that he was sober anymore. You weren’t a psychiatrist but you would assume it had something to do with the fact he hated himself just as much as the lack-luster life he had earned for the two of you.

“I’m working late tonight. Now, I want you home right after school.” He pointed a finger as he spoke. Not even 8AM and he was already coming across as confrontational. “You come straight home and clean some of this shit up. Hear me?” You would’ve rolled your eyes if you didn’t think he’d smack the hell out of you for it. Since your mother left, your father had appointed you to take over her thankless chore list, never lifting a finger of his own.

“I will, promise.” Other families typically say ‘I love you’ before leaving, but you didn’t see the point anymore. It was an empty phrase that hadn’t held a meaning since you were a child.

———

The misty spring air drove away the remaining tiredness resting behind your eyes. It was a cool caress against your cheeks as you pedaled your bike down the still waking streets of Hawkins to the high school. You liked school okay enough. Your grades were consistently passing and for seven hours a day, you were out of your father’s reach. Above all else, there was Eddie. He was a loud mouthed senior with an intimidating aura and reputation to match. A lot of your classmates avoided him. You did too. That is until you were partnered together for an assignment in Mrs. Click’s class. Turns out the second degree senior was actually pretty smart. Just lazy, dubbing himself as more of an ‘idea-man.’ He was unmotivated. You could understand that. Your motivation was more of a looming threat scented with bourbon and haggard by poor life choices and coping mechanisms.

Eddie didn’t know about your dad. At first he thought your concern about the assignment was silly. Your grades were good enough. No sense in being an overachiever he thought. It wasn’t until he caught you after class one day after everyone else had left. You were crying. Your arms circled your face as you sobbed into the textbook lying on your desk. He didn’t know you were that stressed about it. He didn’t know that a failing grade would likely result in injury in your case. It may have been an invasion of privacy but he pulled up a chair beside you. You startled at the sound of the metal legs scooting across the concrete floor.

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What do you want, Eddie?” You wiped the tears away with the back of your sweater sleeve. Your previous interactions were short and often quarrelsome, always pertaining to the assignment.

“First off, I want you to take a breath.” You did so in vain. Not because he told you to but because you hated anyone to see you cry. “May I?” Eddie’s ring clad hand slid the textbook off your desk and into his lap. He shuffled through the notes stuffed between the pages that you had so meticulous taken. Ink bled on portions of the paper soggy from tears. He’d never seen someone so hung up over a grade before. He felt guilty that he didn’t share even half of your concern. “Take the night off. I can finish this.” Your eyes snapped to him, bloodshot and skeptical.

“You are gonna finish it?” Your tone was unintentionally mocking. He had barely put in an effort since your were unfairly partnered at random.

“Yea?” Eddie answered cooly. “I’ll throw the presentation together so you can take a break. I can just reference your notes. Seems like you’ve covered every possible base.” Nonchalantly, he flipped the lined, loose-leaf paper over, further noting the nuances of your handwriting. Bubbly cursive with little hearts that accented the i’s. Cute. The idea of Eddie taking over the assignment was worrisome to say the least, but you could use a break. Between the stress of school and your father’s constant demands, you were overwhelmed.

“But what about-”

“Y/N…I’ve got this, okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been doing my part. Let me make it up to you. If you don’t think I’m capable of finishing it on my own, I could just come to your place. We’ll work on it togeth-”

“No!” You were quick to shutdown the idea. No one was allowed to come to your house. Your own personal rule. Logically thinking, your father wouldn’t hit you in front of another person, but he had surprised you before. Inebriation always ran the risk of trumping logic. Eddie winced at how quick you were to decline his self imposed invention. It was strictly out of kindness but maybe a bit too forward? “It’s a school night…I’m not allowed to have friends over on school nights.” The excuse was weaved out of thin air. You had years of practice in improvising white lies to hide your families broken dynamics.

“Okay…maybe I can get your number then? Y’know to talk about the assignment?” Eddie closed the book in his lap, resting his forearms on the hard cover. A trailing tattoo of bats peak-a-booed under his pushed up sleeves. You weighed the pros and cons for a moment. Your father would kill you if he answered the phone to hear a man’s voice asking for you. We’re you willing to risk it?

“…Alright. But no calling after 6:30 and if my dad answers, hang up immediately.” You laid out your conditions and watched Eddie smile in confusion.

“Uhh, yea… I guess I can do that.” The smile stretch to brilliancy. He stood triumphantly, nudging your shoulder just before leaving. “Dry it up, L/N.” You followed his stride out the door with your eyes, savoring the lingering scent of his cologne. No way you were crushing on the outcasted king of Hawkins High.

———

You totally were. With Eddie’s help, the assignment was given on time. Earning you both a respectable B+ Even after your two week sentence of partnership ended, he still called you (within the boundaries you set.) Still talked to you in the halls and during lunch. You suffered through every class and mind numbing lecture with one thing on your mind. Eddie. Baring witness to his hyperactive, exaggerated mannerisms were the best part of your day. Just hearing his distinctive voice greet you with a “hey sweetheart”over the crackle of the landline. It was enough to give you butterflies. Still, as much as it hurt you to do so, you kept him at arms length. You didn’t want him caught in your mess and you certainly didn’t want to provide anymore fuel for your father’s misplaced outrage. That meant turning Eddie down anytime he’d ask for a date. Rushing off the phone the second your father’s truck roared into the driveway, cutting Eddie off in the midst of flirtatious conversations. It didn’t go unnoticed. He thought you to be playing hard to get. You gave every indication you were into him. You didn’t shy away when he’d brush your hair behind your ear. When he’d grab your hand under the cafeteria table, you’d lace your fingers with his. Eddie always made little jokes over the phone about how he was gonna climb through your window just to see you. You’d never take the bait, but you’d always bite your lip as your twirled the cord between your fingers. Eddie swears he could hear it in your laugh. It was a spark that threatened to burn him from the inside out. He’d lay in bed at night thinking of you, hoping you were doing the same.

But your life outside of school was a mystery. You never talked about what happened after you biked away from the parking lot. You never saw friends on the weekend. It was puzzling. You were such a sweet girl, but Eddie felt like he still didn’t truly know you. Only parts of you. You were shrouded in secrecy. He used to ask questions. Your answers were short and always followed by a swift change in subject. The only information he could gather was that your mom was no longer in the picture and your father kept high expectations of you. Nothing out of the norm. But you were peculiar in the way you’d shift in place and hide your eyes anytime Eddie attempted to talk about him.

———

The cool, overcast day gave way to torrential rain, peppering the cracked pavement and sidewalks as the last bell of the day rang out. Teens scramble across the parking lot, text books and bags covering their heads in lieu of umbrellas. You watched as they boarded buses and settled into nice cars, gifted by their parents. You on the other hand were preparing for the freezing bike ride back home. Already feeling defeated, you kicked up the bike’s stand just as the stench of exhaust and rumble of thrash metal crept across the parking lot.

“Please don’t tell me you’re riding home in this?” Cigarette smoke wafted from the open window of Eddie’s van. He held in a laugh. You were pitifully hilarious. The hood of your beloved sweatshirt that lived in your locker was pulled tightly to your head and tied below your chin. You were rendered a moon faced blob of wet and darkened fabric.

“Beats walking.” You mounted your bike while shrugging the weight of your backpack up your shoulders.

“Nonono, come on. I’ll give you a ride.” What kind of man would he be if he just let you go off on your own in the middle of a downpour? “The heat works now.” Eddie patted the dash in praise. He’d been working on that for weeks. “I know you’re cold.” You were. Freezing in fact. “Just let me take you home.” He pleaded. He really didn’t want to resort to begging but was prepared to. You chewed your bottom lip in consideration. What was it about him that made you so careless with your circumstance? Was it his eyes? The way his frizzy curls framed his perfect jawline? Maybe it was his gentlemanly gestures juxtaposed to his “fuck you” attitude. Christ. It was all of it. Your dad did say he was working late…What could it hurt?

“What about my bike?” You shouted over the loud spatter of raindrops.

“Allow me.” The driver’s side door of the van opened with a groan. His black boots tread through the puddle you were standing in so that he could take your bike. With minimal effort he tossed it into the back of his van. Wiping his palms on the front of his jeans, he turned to you proudly. “Hop in, sweetheart.”

———

Eddie shook his curls like a wet dog, cursing the cold rain between little shivers.

“And you wanted to bike home in this.” He tsked, side eyeing you playfully.

“I didn’t want to! I had to!” You laughed as you ringed water from your hair.

“No, see. That’s a lie. And you know it’s a lie. I offer to drive you home all the time.” That was true. You’d never take him up on the offer though. It was too risky.

“Wouldn’t it be a pain in the ass to drive out of your way all the time just to take me home?” Your rubber toed shoes squeaked together in the floorboard as you adjusted yourself closer to the heat vents to thaw your fridges fingers.

“You act like we live hours apart. Curly isn’t far from the trailer park.” He reminded you. You knew that but you were running out of excuses.

“I just…don’t think my dad would like it.” There it was again. The brief mention of him had you grabbing at your arms, making yourself as small as possible on instinct. Eddie watched you slouch in the passenger seat. Your smiling eyes now trained to the rain droplets racing down your window. It was happening again.

“….I don’t think I like your dad.” Eddie casually determined. That’s makes to of us you thought but didn’t dare to say.

“You’ve never even met him.” You hoped the conversation would be short but something told you it was only the start.

“I don’t have to. He sounds like a dick. Like, he just wants to keep you in your room, away from everybody else. That’s not fair to you.” The atmosphere grew tense as the van splashed through puddles down the two lane. You got quiet. Eddie had seen this before. It’s like you’d shutdown anytime he tried to talk about him. A clear sign he should stop but he knew there was something you weren’t telling him. He wanted to press on but he finally had you all to himself outside the crowded halls of your school. He wasn’t about to let your time together go to waste. “It’s damn sure not fair to me.” He pouted in an attempt to get you talking again.

“And why is that?” You turned to him with the corner of your mouth ticked up into a smirk.

“Because I can’t take you out! We can’t go for milkshakes or any of that cutesy shit!” Eddie huffed, earning the smallest giggle from you. “No steamy make out session at skull rock either.” He teased, wagging his brows as he reach across the center console to squeeze your knee. He was courteous but never subtle. Playfully, you slapped at his arm while a blush warmed your still frozen cheeks. You wanted those things. You wanted the whirlwind romance you’d read about in books. You wanted Eddie. But instead you were lead actress in your own personal Lifetime drama or after school special about the dangers of alcoholism. We don’t always get what we want. You flipped his palm over and locked your fingers in his. It can’t hurt to pretend though.

You were so entranced by the way Eddie’s cigarette danced between his plush lips that you didn’t even realize you were almost home. He was rambling on about the bluesy riff in Sabbath’s ‘Fairies Wear Boots’ which played over the tape deck. With the crash of a cymbal your heart dropped to your stomach. In the driveway sat a rust eaten and weathered Chevy pickup.

“Fuck FUCK!” You immediately began scrambling to unfasten your seatbelt and grab your bag.

“WHAT?” Eddie shouted in confusion.

“My dad is home. He said he was working late tonight!” You were visibly panicked. Eddie rushed to mute the music but it was too late. The rumbling bass line had already sold you out on your arrival. Eddie peered out the windshield past the wiper blades to see a gruff man swing past the screen door of the modest home. He watched as he slumped over the dinghy, white and algae stained porch railings. A bottle hung loosely between his fingers. Eddie watched you through the rear view. You were struggling to pull your bike out of the back.

“Let me help-”

“NO. Stay in the van.” You snapped. Shaky hands gripped the metal frame, finally pulling it free. Eddie’s eyes flicked back to your father who was suddenly staring daggers at him. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest watching you push your bike up the driveway, not bothering to spare him a goodbye. Against his better judgment, he threw the van in reverse and left. He took one last look at you through his side mirror. Your head dipped low as you followed the man into the house.

———

You prepped dinner on the stove. The skillet’s simmer was the only thing staving off the earth shattering silence. The tension that could be cut with a knife. Your father was sat at the table bouncing his leg as he watched you. You could feel his eyes even with your back turned. Was he intentionally drawing this out? Reveling in your stiff shoulders and dry gulps as you plated his food? This wasn’t the kind of thing he was going to let slide. You knew that and found no sense in delaying the inevitable. If he wasn’t going to speak up, you would.

“I thought you were working late.” You sat a plate in front of your father before taking your place at the table. You hoped the gesture of a hot meal would lessen your punishment. “What happened?” It was likely another altercation with a coworker. He had verbally been reprimanded about that kind of thing in the past. While his violent tendencies lived beyond the closed doors of your home, he carried the same anger with him everywhere he went. Quietly seething at the fact he had lost control of his life. Now a divorcee with a dead end job, living paycheck to paycheck. He turned his focus to you. You, he could control.

“Who was he?” Your question went completely ignored. He stabbed at his pork chop, watching your face intensely. Searching for any indication of a lie.

“Just a friend. It was raining so he offered me a ride.” You kept your eyes on your food. Anxiety starved your appetite so instead you pushed your peas around the dish.

“And what did you offer him?” Your father smiled at you in a mocking manner.

“I don’t…I don’t get what you mean?”

“Don’t act stupid, Y/N. Men have all got one thing on their minds. I know that boy didn’t waste his gas bringing you home…for nothing in return.” He wanted to get under your skin. He wanted you to bite back. He wanted an excuse to pin his shitty day on you.

“Do you seriously think I’d sacrifice my self respect for a ride home?” You were visibly angered by the notion. You weren’t sure what you found more offensive. The fact he thought you’d trade sex for a simple favor or that Eddie would expect that of you? He took a harmless situation and twisted it into something perverse.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone!” He stabbed the air in your direction with his fork. “I’d like to think I raised you better than that but I really shouldn’t be surprised. Figures you’d turn out to be a whore like your mother.” You could feel your hands shake under the table. He knew that would get you.

“Don’t put that shit on me!” You snapped. “If you would’ve treated mom like a person instead of your servant she’d still be here!” You missed your mom. You wished she would’ve taken you with her. Instead she found someone to take your father’s place and skipped town. You didn’t blame her, but it still hurt. It was probably just easier for her to make an escape and start over without a teenaged daughter weighing her down. “Im not hungry.” You pushed your plate back on the table and made the attempt to head back to you room. The fact he was sitting down made you think, maybe you could make it to the door before he caught up with you. You moved quickly but were stunned in place by the shatter of a glass on the floor.

“Don’t fuckin’ WALK AWAY FROM ME.” Your father barked. In the heat of fight or flight situations, you froze. He followed you into the hallway, face burning hot with misdirected rage. You screwed your eyes shut the second his hand tangled into your hair. “I CAUGHT YOU WHISPERING ON THE PHONE WITH THAT BOY THE OTHER DAY!” His shouting shook you to the core. Your heart raced remembering how your father made it home fifteen minutes early last week and managed to make it into the house without you noticing. Your mind fought to recall your conversation with Eddie and hoped it wasn’t damning.

“I’m sorry, Dad!”

“Now, I want you to tell me…” He wiped the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand. “WHO IS HE?” He tugged your hair at the roots causing you to wince in pain.

“HE’S JUST A FRIEND! Please let me go, PLEASE!” You hated how weak you sounded.

“I WANT HIS FUCKIN’ NAME!” With one sharp motion, the side of your face slammed into the wood paneling of the wall. You dropped to the floor instantaneously. Any other time you’d just accept your fate. Take the beating and allow the moment to pass but something in you screamed run. Unable to make it to your feet, you staggered a crawl towards the living room. Your father followed your every movement, squatting down to grab your hair once more.

“ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT!” Your trembling hands stretched to reach the cord of a nearby table lamp. The last digit of your middle finger managed to moved the wire enough that the light fell to the carpeted floor. Before you even had a chance to think of the repercussions, you grabbed the lamp and swung it at your father making direct contact. He stumbled backwards holding his nose. Trickles of blood began lining the spaces between his fingers. Now was your chance. You looked to the front door. A beacon of hope merely feet away. You pushed past the ache in your head and the fear in your stomach, finally making it to your feet.

“YOU FUCKIN’ BITCH!” Your father screamed through a cupped hand, attempting to grab you before you were out of reach. His fingers grazed the cloth of your T-shirt before you slipped away from his grasp. He tried to chase after you, but his vision was obstructed by the blow to his face. You ran out the door and off the porch, frantically mounting your bike. Your father followed, stopping at the porch steps. The rain beat hard as he screamed.

“GET BACK IN THE GODDAMN HOUSE.” But you were already gone, petaling rapidly down your street. Not daring to look back. The reflections of streetlights on the wet asphalt illuminated the road to freedom. You weren’t sure of where you were going but then you remembered. Curly isn’t far from the trailer park.

———

Smoke circled overhead in Eddie’s room. An ash tray rested on his naked chest as he flipped through the pages of some macabre comic. A record spun on the turntable. The needle bringing the voice of Robert Plant to life. His zen was interrupted by a pounding at the trailer door. What he fuck? He pulled himself off the mattress and lifted the arm of the record player. He observed the silence beyond the rain, hearing the frantic knocks again. Who in the hell? He grabbed his leather jacket off the desk chair and made his way to the door, the sound pestering on.

“What?” He answered sharply but was immediately caught off guard. You stood on his door step, shivering and drenched to the bone. “Y/N, oh my God! Are you okay?” He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and guide you inside.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Your voice was strained. Broken. Your threw yourself into his chest, collapsing in the comfort and warmth of his skin, not considering how crazy you looked in that moment. You just needed to feel safe. Eddie rubbed your back as you cried. Soft shooshes cooed from his lips. Something was very wrong.

“What happened, Sweetheart?” He pulled away to face you. Eddie swept the wet strands of hair behind your ear, revealing your swollen face. A knot raised just above your temple, red and swollen skin trailing below and tracing down to your cheekbone. “Jesus Christ…Y/N.” You had never seen Eddie’s face so concerned. “Did- Did someone do this to you?” You couldn’t speak. You were fighting to regain your composure but you managed to nod a reply. Sadness swelled in Eddie’s chest. How could anyone find it in themself to hurt you like this? “Who did this!?” He gently cupped your face in his hands, tilting and lifting in search of any other marks. Your father’s face flashed in his memory. The look in his eyes as he dangled the bottle in his hands. The pieces began to fall together. Why you’d tense up anytime he was mentioned. Why you spoke in whispers on the phone. How did he miss all the signs? “He did this to you.” It wasn’t a question. It was an understanding. He locked his deep brown eyes on you. You nodded in his hands. Tears brimmed and threatened to spill over when he saw the way your lip trembled.

“I can’t go back there, Eddie.” Your chest heaved as you choked back another sob. He pressed your face into his chest, his hand cradling the side of your head. His skin burned hot while yours was ice. You melted together in the embrace.

“You don’t have to. We’ll figure something out.”

———

“These looked like they’d fit. I tossed them in the dryer so they’d be extra warm.” Eddie handed off a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt smelling of fresh dryer sheets. You smiled up at him through your lashes while you sat on the edge of the bathtub. The towel Eddie drape over you still rested on your shoulders. He was an excellent caretaker. You moved your makeshift ice pack/bag of frozen peas off your temple so you could shake out the clothes.

“I really appreciate this…all of it.” There was no way to properly thank him or express how sincere you truly were.

“Don’t do that.” He smiled.

“Do what?”

“Don’t thank me for being nice to you, it’s weird!” You chuckled a little at that. It was weird having someone care about you like this. You lifted your soggy tshirt over your head, separating it for the tank top that clung to your body. For the first time, Eddie could see what your father had done to you. Bruises on your shoulder and across your arms. All varying in size and color. Some fresh, some old. He dropped his breath.

“No sense in hiding them anymore I guess.” You shrugged off the initial embarrassment. You shouldn’t be the one who felt ashamed. Yet you did.

“Does it happen a lot?” Eddie sat down on the lid of the toilet seat and twisted his body towards you.

“Couple times a week.” You shrugged. “It’s getting worse. Since mom left…it’s like he looks for reasons to hurt me. I-I don’t know if he blames me for what happened or if he just takes it out on me because I’m the only one there…” You’d never talked to anyone about what you’ve been through. What you continue to go through. But with Eddie, you felt like you could be transparent. He absorbed every word, not daring to speak until you got it all off your chest. Your honesty cut him like a knife. It took him back to his days of being a confused child. Wondering why his dad would strike him. What he could’ve done to deserve it. Eddie wanted your father to pay for what he did to you but chose to keep his anger to himself. You didn’t need more talks of violence, even if it would be justified. You needed comfort and understanding. “He treated my mom like shit. She met this guy who made her feel like she was worth something, yknow? She packed up in the middle of the night. Left. No clue where.” You shook your head. “But after that…Dad wasn’t the same. He started drinking all the time. Picking fights with me for no reason…and it just kept getting worse.” Your eyes started to wet. “Now I’m here.”

“All the bullshit aside, I’m glad you’re here.” Eddie reached over to grab your hand. He let his thumb run circles along the back. His heart was heavy for you. He knew what you were going through and it was something who wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

———

You and Eddie sat up on the couch for a while watching reruns of some dated sitcom. Something about the sounds of canned-laughter with Eddie’s arm draped around you soothed your jangled nerves. Your eyes were grew heavy as you rested in the dim light of Eddie’s living room. You were utterly exhausted by everything that had transpired that day. Your head would droop and pop back up with fluttered blinks. The cycle repeated at least three times before Eddie spoke up.

“Just close your eyes, sweetheart. I know you’re tired.” His voice was soft and hushed.

“I don’t wanna leave you up though.” You rubbed your knuckle into your tired eyes to try and drive the sleepiness away.

“Don’t worry about me.” He laughed. “I’m practically nocturnal. Now, c’mon. Lay down.” Eddie swung his legs up on the couch and pulled you into him so that your back could rest against his stomach and head to his chest. He shuffled between so many emotions as you finally drifted off to sleep against him. Happy he could finally hold you. Saddened by your circumstances and what brought you to him. And ultimately guilty for enjoying every second of it.

The morning light cut through the blinds in blue ribbons across the walls of the quant, mobile home. Wayne had just finished up his shift at the plant. Tired and overworked, more than anything he wanted to stretch out on the couch and close his eyes. Eddie had thrown his uncle for a loop a time or two in the past but that didn’t prepare him for when he opened the front door to see his nephew all snuggled up with some girl.

“Eddie!” He boomed, sending a shockwave through the boy’s body. He sprang up to a sitting position, nearly toppling you over and into the floor.

“Hey-Hey, Wayne! Can we, uh-can we talk for a second?” Wayne was not amused in the slightest by his nephew’s sheepish behavior.

“Oh, we’re gonna have a talk alright.” He crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to look at you. His attention was focused solely on Eddie.

“I guess I should-….I have to go to the bathroom.” You made yourself scarce and pitter pattered to bathroom. You knew you shouldn’t but you left the door cracked so you could eaves drop on their conversation.

“Okay, Wayne…I know what it looks like.”

“It looks like your sneaking girls home!”

“I know, I know but it’s not like that!” Eddie huffed hoping the other man would understand. He dropped his voice so maybe you wouldn’t hear him. “She needs help, Wayne. Her dad abuses her. She showed up here crying last night because she didn’t know where else to go. What was I supposed to do, send her right back to him? He grabbed her by the hair and rammed her head into the wall, for Christ’s sake!” Eddie spoke in whispers so you couldn’t hear. “I just wanted her safe. Honest.” His eyes were pleading. Wayne ran a hand over his scratchy beard recalling how he felt when he first learned of Eddie being abused. He thought back to that scared little boy crying in the cab of his truck because his mommy and daddy were two pieces of shit who couldn’t figure out how to love their own flesh and blood. It was a sensitive subject for Wayne. He turned towards the bathroom feeling your eyes peak through the cracks of the door. You tried to shut it in a hurry but we’re already caught.

“Hey! C’mere a second.” It was a request but his stern voice made it feel an awful lot like a demand. You walked slowly back to the center of the living room where the two men stood, watching you. Wayne stepped in front of you, examining the fresh bruise along the side of your face. His heart screamed ‘I’m sorry this happened to you’ but his face remained neutral. “That’s a shiner alright.” He shook his head in disgust. You nervously looked the other way. You weren’t used to people remarking on your father’s doings. It was your own secret shame and not one you’d willingly share. “Still hurt?”

“Y-Yea. A little.” You wanted to sound brave and unphased but you sounded more like a child than anything.

“There’s Tylenol in the medicine cabinet.” Wayne huffed and began pacing the floor. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re a little limited on space here.” He gestured to his work clothes that hung on a rack in the corner of the room. You dropped your head sensing that you’d soon be sent away. Eddie waited with bated breath, praying his uncle wouldn’t make you go back. “But you’re welcome to stay here until we get this mess sorted out.”

[joels6string]

Mistlewoes

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: No Cordyceps AU; Despite his best attempts at weaseling out of it, you drag a not-so-merry Joel to finish off the last of your Christmas shopping.

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: established relationship, Joel hates Christmas songs and isn't afraid to make it known, cornered beneath the mistletoe, smut to reward him for his troubles [lingerie, face-sitting, oral f-receiving, unprotected p-in-v, creampie]

December in Texas brought temperatures just cold enough to warrant a sweater. Even after eight years of living in the Longhorn state, you still hadn’t lost the longing for the chill of winter air around the holidays the north had offered. But Texas had offered something even better.

Footsteps thumped on the roof of your covered porch right outside your bedroom window, the sight of long, denim-clad legs visible every so often through the gauzy curtains, a flash of skin catching your eye when the hem of his flannel rode up as he reached up over his head. Ten years ago, you’d come down to Austin for a work conference and left with the phone number of a carpenter you’d met at the bar. Two years after that, you were moving into his house with his teenage daughter, Sarah, thousands of miles from home, and a year after that you became Mrs. Joel Miller in a ceremony under your favorite old gazebo in the park. 

Three light raps on the glass caught your attention as you brushed gloss over your lips, the silver that had begun streaking through his hair over the last few years glittering in the sun as he crouched down with a grin on his face.

“You gonna come out and look?” he asked, despite the arrangement of rainbow lights along the windows and beams being exactly what it was every year, “S’all done.”

“It’s daytime!” you giggled, opening the window back up to allow him to climb back through, “Can’t see anything.”

“You’ll get the gist.”

It was as if he could hear your retort before it left your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to silence it before it could escape before you resigned with a sigh, opting to look at the green wires wrapped around the yellow house he’d spent years renovating to perfection. 

“Did somethin’ a little different this year,” he crooned as he stood beside you in the driveway, “Figured I’d give Jimmy a run for his money.”

With your nose wrinkled in concentration in that way that made the corner of his lips tick up into a crooked smirk, you inspected the tangles of wires looking for a change, his low, affectionate chuckle sending familiar heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You’ll catch it tonight,” he reassured as he rounded and blocked your view with his broad chest, “Where you headed? Or did you get all dolled up just for me?”

“Christmas shopping,” you answered sweetly, eying him warily.

Thick fingers pulled his worn leather billfold out of his back pocket, cueing your own opportunity to allow a mischievous smile to settle onto your features. 

“I got fifty in cash and…” the little blue card he kept under lock and key was folded between the crisp bill, “Don’t go too crazy, now. Just…get what we need.”

“Why are you giving this to me?” you asked, accepting his offering despite your question, “You’re coming.”

“I beg your pardon?”

His beard was soft against your palm as you cupped his jaw, “You said you’d come.”

Watching the realization of last night’s promise dawn on his face had you laughing again, his eyes going from denial to thought and ending on dreaded acceptance. A heavy sigh had his shoulders dropping, your thumb’s soothing path along his cheekbone warming his slightly chilled skin.

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he defended, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. He’d been at your mercy, your lazy kisses to his softening cock as he lay panting above you in a post-orgasm haze had him ready to agree to anything. “I should get a pass.”

“I think that’s when you’re at your clearest, actually.”

A surrendering scoff was your cue to victory, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in delight as he went to grab the keys to his truck and lock the house, his gratuitous swat to your bottom as he walked past to get into the driver’s seat enough proof whatever grumpy face he was about to put on was at least donned willingly.

“Where to first, light of my life?” he drawled sarcastically, his head rolling against the headrest as the truck rumbled to life.

“Coffee,” you chirped, snatching the cable leading to his outdated stereo and plugging it into your phone, your favorite Christmas playlist ringing in the cabin along with his groan born of pure dread.

“Do we have to?”

“It’s time to get in the spirit, Scrooge McMiller, Sarah will be home in a few days. She’s worse than me.”

The world blurred past the windows as you sang quietly along with the carols, Joel’s wide palm resting comfortably over your thigh, thumb brushing lightly as you allowed him to hum along with the melodies without meddling. You knew he swore you couldn’t hear him, but that low timbre was a sound you could find in the loudest crowd. 

When you hopped out at the coffee shop he opted to wait in the truck, “keep it warm” he claimed, with a request for his usual. His usual was black coffee with a splash of half-and-half and two sugars, and he never wavered no matter how much you nagged him to at least try some flavor. “I’m a simple man, darlin’,” he’d always say with a quick peck to whatever part of you was accessible, sometimes it was the back of your hand when your fingers were threads through his in the middle seat of the truck, or your forehead if you were on your way out the door, but sometimes he took his time, dragging his nose across your cheek before his lips were pressing to the sharp curve of your jaw so softly it sent a shiver down your spine. Just the thought of it had you twitching as you approached the counter and put your order in. Even after all these years he still made your stomach flip. 

As you made your way back to the car the sight of him on his phone, notepad on his dash with his pencil scribbling furiously siphoned off a little of your joy, the slam of the door as you slid back in slightly overdone as he hurried off the call at your return. 

“No work on Sunday,” you huffed, earning an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. It’s goin’ away.” Then he caught sight of your coffee. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s coffee.”

“That ain’t coffee.”

It was a little overembellished, but to you, that’s what the holidays were for–a little indulgence. A mountain of red and green sprinkle-covered whipped cream sat atop your red cup, the smell of the sweetener wafting out with the steam as your tongue lapped out in a way that had his head ticking ever-so-slightly. 

“It’s a sugar cookie almond milk latte,” you continued, swiping your finger through the topping and bringing it towards his slightly parted lips, the way he immediately took it into his mouth to lick it clean making you consider a quick pitstop back at home before continuing on.

“Like I said,” he cooed, “it ain’t coffee. Where to next?”

“The mall.” 

“And here lies Joel Miller,” he began murmuring under his breath as his foot hit the gas, “Died December 18th, 2022 after being dragged–”

Your squeal of delight had his griping cut short as the familiar voice of Mariah Carey came over the speakers, “All I Want For Christmas is You”’s chiming bells being made slightly louder as you spun the volume way as his nostrils flared. You sang along, louder than you had the previous tunes, your little shimmies along with the melody catching his eye every so often as he took in the show, landing a few quips of his own through the ridiculous lyrics.

Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas

I won't even wish for snow (and I) “That’s good, it don’t snow here.”

I'm just gonna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe “Hopefully not for me, you’ll be there awhile.”

I won't make a list and send it to the North Pole for Saint Nick “Aren’t you on the naughty list this year?”

I won't even stay awake to hear those magic reindeer click “Well you never make it past ten anyway.”

'Cause I just want you here tonight

Holding on to me so tight

What more can I do? “I got a few ideas.”

Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you

You, baby “Cheaper for me.”

Singing had never been one of your strongest suits, but the laughter that was pouring free at his commentary was making it even worse. A snort slipped out at one point, your lungs burning as you tried to hit the high notes all while keeping your composure. You were failing miserably.

I just wanna see my baby standing right outside my door “That’s where I’m gonna be if you keep singin’.”

When that final high note was revving up, he gave you a warning glare, your smile stretching as you took in a deep breath. “Don’t…” he cautioned, holding his pointer finger up as if would help, and when it didn’t and your high-pitched squeal reverberated off the glass his face twisted in pain, “You break it, you buy it!”

You were still laughing as he pulled into the mall’s parking lot, a kiss still being requested as he dropped you off at the doors before heading off to search for parking despite the concert you’d subjected him to on the ride over. While waiting for him to catch up, you perused the windows of the shops around you, your coffee still warm in your hand as took in the twinkling lights and garlands, holiday music playing over the speakers as kids ran off from their parents to find Santa and friends squealed over their favorite finds of the day.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” a familiar voice grunted from behind you as an arm slung around your shoulders and pulled you into a sturdy torso, the familiar scent of sawdust and pine tree washing over you.

Joel followed along dutifully, passing over his credit card at each store, carrying your bags, and glaring at anyone who took too much of an eyeful as you passed them. The last on the list was Sarah, who had sent a small list of things she needed but nothing she wanted, which had set you on a mission to find her a fun little something to open on Christmas morning. Joel wasn’t helpful, being all practical himself and not seeing a reason to get her anything beyond the stuff she needed, but you were hellbent and he went along. 

The crowds had begun to grow, making maneuvering through them that much harder. After snatching the last box of headphones from the Apple Store and hoping that was good enough for Sarah’s surprise, you grabbed Joel’s hand and dragged him through the center of the mall that had been transformed into a winter wonderland. It was mostly to avoid the mob gathering at an intersection of aisles, but the fake bubble snow drifting down from a machine and the glittering decor had captured your attention enough to miss the archway ahead. 

“Ope!” a man dressed as an elf sounded as he leapt out in front of you, causing you to jump back into Joel’s sturdy chest, “Not so fast you two, there’s a fee to pass through these parts!”

“What?” Joel sighed from behind you, his voice conveying his sheer annoyance.

With a mischievous laugh and a point toward the ceiling, you saw the little green bushel hanging from the top of the arch. Mistletoe. Joel’s willingness to participate in PDA in crowded places didn’t go much beyond hand-holding or a hug when you buried yourself into his chest. Affection was something for behind closed doors, where he could enjoy it, savor it, press it to the limit…

“I don’t think so,” he snapped, “Rather go around.”

“It’s a simple fee, sir,” the elf continued, still fully in character, “One kiss, two tickets to Santa’s winter gardens—“

“Do you take cash to let us through to the parking lot?”

“Joel…” you laughed, spinning quickly and grabbing his face between your hands, tugging him down enough to kiss him lightly, his tension melting beneath the gesture, “Look, you lived.”

All you got as a response was a grunt before you sweetly asked him to get the car while you made one more stop, an offer he graciously accepted. 

When you arrived home, Joel took to prepping Sarah’s room for her arrival while you made a small dinner, his excitement to have his daughter home from school for a few weeks revving up as he washed blankets and set out the toiletries you’d collected earlier in the week. When the TV went on after and you settled in for a quiet night, he passed out within half an hour, allowing you the chance to slip away and prepare for the final surprise of the night. 

Freshly showered and dressed for your plan, you returned to the couch to find him still asleep, the credits of the film you’d put on still rolling. You roused him gently, with soft calls of his name and wandering fingers over the stretch of his chest, his grimace as he emerged from his nap wrinkling his nose. 

“I ain’t jinglin’ anymore bells,” he groaned, one eye cracking open to peek at you.

“Thought you might want one of your gifts early, that’s all,” you innocently cooed as he sat up, your satin robe capturing his curiosity. 

“Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

“Open it.”

His eyes followed as your fingers toyed with the sash around your waist and he quickly replaced them with his own, pulling the loose knot free with an anticipatory sparkle in his eye. 

“Christ…” he huffed out in awe, your curves clad in sheer blue lace a feast for his ravenous gaze, “Was I really this good?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, toying with his graying hair gently as he soaked in the sight of you.

Calloused hands pulled you in by the waist as he sat up completely, latching onto the swell of your breast as he set to lavish your skin with his mouth and hands alike. He squeezed and dragged, his tongue swiping over every inch of skin that made you gasp and shiver. By the time he was finally dragging the fabric down with his teeth to release one of your pert nipples, your skin was tingling, a thin sheen of sweat forming as his lips locked around your little bud and your knees buckled beneath the pressure. 

A groan of appreciation rumbled along your sensitive skin as his fingers swiped through the band of your panties and found you soaked. He’d switched his attention to your other side now, reciprocating all the affection he’d given the other, your hands cradling his head as he took his fill. Where your skin used to redden from the scratch of his beard, now it seared with need and desire, electricity coursing to the tips of your fingers as they wound in his hair and scratched reassuringly against his scalp.

“Lemme in here,” he grunted as he slid down onto the floor between your legs, his hand lifting on to allot him space to perch on the cushions beside his head, “Now you don’t stop til you’re done. Understood?”

That had your breath hitching before you nodded, the air cool on your slick folds as he tore the panties in half, citing it was his Christmas gift to do as he saw fit with before he situated you over his tongue and began lapping out to collect what had accumulated greedily. You started slow, running your slit over him as he kept his tongue flattened and free to use, only opting to suckle and press when you paused for a quick reprieve, wanting this to last longer than your body was allowing you. As always, he was patient in times like this (rarely in others), enjoying being surrounded by you in every conceivable way. It was how he liked to spend his time, at home, buried in you in any context.

“Jesus, Joel,” you whimpered as you began riding his mouth again, knowing this time you wouldn’t be able to repress the fire burning in your belly.

He gave you a muffled grunt as you carefully bounced up and down, the obscene smacking of his lips like gasoline until you gripped his hair and smeared the new rush of arousal your orgasm brought along his lower face, his beard already soaked from his previous work.

“Atta girl,” he commended, kissing up your inner thigh as he returned to his seat on the couch, quickly scooping you up and tossing you over his shoulder to bring you to your bedroom.

After you landed on the bed with a soft, thud, he was quick to strip himself of his jeans and flannel, his eyes locked on your still-damp cunt as he stroked his cock a few times, your thighs spreading to grant him full access. He teased with just the head at first, rubbing it against your still oversensitized clit until you were squirming, pushing into your channel in one hard thrust once your fingernails began denting into the skin of his forearms. 

His thrusts were slow and hard, the drag of him against your inner walls as he pulled out, and the force he rut back in with had you feeling dizzy, your breasts shaking in the confines of the lace with every jolt. He was taking his time tonight, relishing in the way he felt buried deep inside of your cunt, the tightness of you clenching around him with every gratuitous press of his thumb to your swollen clit exactly what he was chasing.

“Joel, please,” you begged as pressure began to build again like the river against a weakening dam, “Please…”

With that small plea, he threw your legs up onto his shoulders and folded you in half as he bent to crash his lips to yours once again. Teeth clacked together as your tongues wrestled, his hips battering against your ass as he fucked you hard enough to have you sliding up the bed. You held him close, whining into his mouth in the way you knew he loved, pathetic and desperate, the little grunts you lived for beginning to flit into the air before you succumbed to the force bearing down on your stomach. Your eyes clenched shut as you screamed, your back arching off the bed as he took advantage of your exposed throat, keeping his own release at bay long enough to fully enjoy feeling yours overtake you.

Seconds after your cries turned to panting breaths he was spilling inside of you, hot and deep, that relieved sigh that signified he’d found the ultimate relief huffing out hot against your neck. As he regulated his own breath your fingers ran up and down his back, tracing the dips and curves of muscle decorating his sun-kissed skin. 

“Merry Christmas,” you giggled as his heavy-lidded eyes lifted to look down at you, a smile stretching across his handsome face.

“I guess all I wanted for Christmas was you after all,” he joked as he rose to get a towel, “Maybe that song was on to something.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

*I didn't proofread this, I die like the amateur I am.

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Millie Bright x Reader

The All Clear

AN: just a quick lil thing I’ve written to celebrate today 💜

At the physio your girlfriend Millie was undergoing yet another fitness exam. The buzz around the World Cup squad announcement had spread through the building but Millie was hoping to be on the road back home by now. There had been a delay with some scans and paperwork she had to fill out for the end of season.

Millie’s perspective:

Glancing at my watch I knew time was running out to get back home in time for the 2pm announcement. I know I’m being announced on the team as Sarina called me a few weeks ago to see how my rehab was coming along. What was still up in the air is if I’m actually getting on the plane. I’ve been working so hard to be ready for the cup as it could be my last but I still haven’t been fit enough to train properly and the season ended without any minutes under my belt for a few months now. I’m nervous. I so desperately want to be on that plane, I want to take (y/n) to another country to watch me play, I want to be surrounded by my friends all summer. Now if this bloody knee could start cooperating that would be great please!

“Millie, can you see for a minute please?” the words of the lead physio echoed through the empty room and interrupted my negative thought spiral. Pulling myself up off the bench and into the office, I felt like I was a naughty school kid going into the headmaster’s office. “So, I know you’ve been talking with Sarina about making the World Cup and you’re worried about being ready in time. You’ve been working really hard on your rehab and I’m happy to tell you that you’re clear. You’ll be on the plane.” The words I’d been longing to hear didn’t sink in, just bounced off my ears and around the room until it hit me. A very delayed celebration came in the form of jumping into the air and screaming, slightly crying but extremely elated. “Thank you so much!” hugging my physio who’s done absolutely everything for me to get to this point, “you’re free to go” he said with a huge smile on his face.

Throwing my bags into the car and leaving the crutches behind - I need to get home, I need to tell (y/n). Glancing at the time, I think I should just about make it home for the announcement.

Your perspective:

“Mum’s late isn’t she?” petting the dogs on the sofa and glancing at your phone to see no new messages. Millie should be home by now and you were starting to get worried as you set YouTube up ready for Sarina’s press conference. It’s unusual not to hear from her in so long and she always texts you when she’s on her way home, maybe she’s been held up at the office. Flicking through your phone until 2pm came and your social medias were flooded with the squad sheet. There she was, your girlfriend’s name in black and white. You had no doubt that she’d be called up, it’s whether she actually makes it there that worries you. Nevertheless, you’d started packing for your trip abroad anyway. Millie always takes the mick out of your over preparation for holidays - starting to pack months in advance of the impending trip but you always remind her that she’s the one that forgets everything by doing it last minute. Sending your congratulations to the girls who also got called up, Sarina’s voice broke the silence in the lounge as all of your attention turned to the TV.

First question - are Millie and Lucy fit to play? Her answer vague yet a positive one. Listening intently to the rest of the interview until something made you rewind to play it again. ‘Did I hear that correctly? Millie being announced as captain? Oh my god, I did! Millie’s captain! My girlfriend’s the captain!’ Your mind racing with no one there to celebrate with apart from the dogs “did you hear that guys? Mummy’s the captain!” you stroked them excitedly as they climbed on top of you with their tails wagging. You barely listened to the rest of the conference just wondering where the hell your girlfriend had got to, has she heard the news? Did she already know and not tell you? Your phone calls didn’t connect as you started to get worried but you didn’t need to as soon after your third unanswered call you heard the familiar hum of her car pull up on the driveway.

Launching the dogs off the blanket as you ran to the front door and flying it open with excitement. The dogs ran out to the car, tails wagging and jumping up at your beautiful girlfriend exiting the vehicle. “Hey skipper” you winked as she approached you, met with a puzzled expression as she leant down to kiss you. “What are you talking about?” Omg, she doesn’t know! “You’re the captain! Sarina just announced you as captain!” your voice high and loud as you grabbed the remote to rewind the interview. Turning the sound up you let it play out, watching the news sink in on her face as her jaw dropped. “I’m so proud of you!” wrapping her arms around her neck watching her mouth turn from shock to pure happiness. Millie squeezed her arms around your waist as she picked you up off the floor “woah, watch your knee!” yelling and slapping her shoulder to put you down. Looking into your eyes she said the words - “I got the all clear, we’re getting on that plane baby”.

[eastwindmlk]

I'll show you mine if you show me yours... 😁 Speed Dating Chaos?

As you might imagine, this WIP was prompted by the same prompt from last Jilytober. This one. Though what I wrote then was nowhere near chaotic enough. Nor was there actual speed dating involved. But I did write some more here and there.

While it is on the list for this year and I hope to make a little more progress! But under the fold there is a little snippet of what it's turning into.

Back to the WIP tag game

Mariam had outdone herself, the room was filled with beautiful women and James had a hard time believing they were there for him. He wasn’t bad-looking by any standard, but he definitely wasn’t fit enough for most of these women. Hooking a finger into his collar, he gave himself some air and looked at the matchmaker beside him. “Are you sure they’re all here for me?”

His question was met with a disapproving look and a sarcastic reply. “No, I just invited them all here to show you what you can’t have.” She flicked a lock of straight black hair over her shoulder as she surveyed the room. “It does help that they have no idea what to expect other than You’re a young, family-oriented heir to a pharmaceutical empire. And if they have half a brain, which I made sure they did, you have a thing for redheads.”

It wasn’t like he had not noticed the trend before, a range from strawberry blonde to deep auburn. “I can’t help but feel like this is giving the wrong impression,” James commented, only for the answer to be interrupted by a phone call. Her iPad was pressed into his hand while she tucked the phone against her shoulder. “There is something I need to take care of. You stay here, don’t even think about going in without me.” She warned, her eyes flashing dangerously at him. All he could really do was nod and watch Mariam stalk off.

James wasn’t opposed to having another minute to himself, occasionally peering down at the pool of potentials waiting for him. Impatient as he was, it took all but three minutes for him to start pacing. Lingering near the door, wondering if he could peer his head through, just to check how she was going on.

Just as he decided to have a little peek, the door swung open, and a young woman rushed inside. Reeling to a stop right before colliding with him. “Oh bullocks, I’m so sorry I am late.” She started, tossing her trench coat his way. “You must be Duke.” James blinked at her confused, following her eyes gaze to the tablet in his hands. “So, you’re not my matchmaker?” Still nothing. “Goodness me, can you hear me?” His eyes travelled up to meet her, slowly. Taking in the trail of freckles that lead from a rather generous cleavage to the hollow of the throat. Soft copper waves framed her impatient expression.

Stammering for a moment, he managed a shake of his head. “No, sorry I’m not.” He smiled apologetically as if somehow this was all his fault. “I swear my calendar said conference room B.” She muttered to herself, and suddenly James’s eyes lit up. “This is D. I think you’re in the wrong room.” At his words, she marched back to the door and pulled it open, peering at the plaque on the side. “Oh piss it! You’re right! I am so sorry! Well, off I pop.” The woman laughed lightly, the sound like wind chimes.

Before he could do more than raise his hand to wave, she disappeared. Leaving him as startled as she had found him. Staring at the closed door, still smiling to himself when Mariam reappeared.

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

With A Flap of Wings, Part 6

Nie Xunyao quietly watches his youngest cousin play with the cousin he has not yet gathered up enough nerve to meet. 

Being placed in a proper resting place with a proper tablet seems to have given Nie Huaisang a little more... weight, for lack of a better word. Though he is translucent as ever and still cannot speak, he can now draw pictures in the earth under the tree for his little sister that she eagerly tries to copy in ink and paper. 

If her steadily improving skills are any indication, his cousin would have become quite the artist… if he had lived.

Nie Xunyao lets out a shaky breath and leans against the door frame. 

'If he had lived' is a phrase that carries so much water. 

It's the reason he has yet to introduce himself. Even if they are family, how can he simply go up and greet someone he has already unknowingly owed a debt to for almost his entire life? 

Though Nie Huaisang had never confessed it in words, even though the adults will not say it in front of them, it's obvious what the first calamity would have been. Nie Jinghe may have been gentle on her, but Yun-ma had never truly recovered from the nightmare that was her first pregnancy.

And if she had died in childbirth, there would have been no one searching for his mother. 

Especially not his father. 

He remembers vividly the day his mother had walked out of a conference being held in the great hall with tears in her eyes and had taken him aside to fold him in a tight hug and apologize for having ever believed his father would do right by them. 

He also remembers vividly the first time he saw one of his -apparently numerous- half-siblings thrown out of Koi Tower like a piece of refuse. 

His cousin has saved them from all that foolish hoping and the bitter fate that might have come with it, and instead arranged for them to have a proper place in the world with a family that loved and wanted them. 

'If he had lived.' 

How does he even begin to pay that back? 

Better... better to wait, he decides. Until he has an idea.

Though it turns out not to be his decision to make. 

When his little cousin spots him watching, he doesn't react fast enough to keep her from running over to grab him by the arm and drag him off the porch with all her weight. 

Ugh, she just had to take after her brother and father in both strength and stubbornness. 

"Sang-ge~! You haven't met Yao-ge yet!"

Nie Huaisang looks up and Nie Xunyao feels a little chill creep down his spine. Though his cousin's gaze is as smooth as the polished pale jade it takes its color from, the air between them ripples with emotion; Love and Hate and Betrayal and Regret all twisted up and tangled together like kites in a windstorm.

Well. 

That answers the question of whether or not they'd somehow crossed paths despite the loss of a tether between them in the form of Yun-ma. 

Steeling his nerve, he kneels in front of the ghost, then looks at the drawing materials scattered around them. "He-mei, go get more paper." 

"Aw-!" 

"Unless you want me to have to write on your drawings...?" 

"No! Don't you dare!" she huffs, running back towards the porch. "I'll make Huahua bite you if they're messed up when I get back!" 

It's not much of a threat, given that the bird in question is a toy, and he can't help the way his mouth twitches in amusement before he gets himself back under control. 

As soon as the door bangs shut, he forces himself to look his remaining cousin in the eye again. "What fate did you save my mother and me from? Was it whatever created all that hate between us?" 

Nie Huaisang tilts his head, but otherwise gives no indication that he heard the question. 

"Did we ever know we were related?" Nie Xunyao presses. 

That earns a flinch. A little twist of Regret. So... not before Something Important had gone very, very Wrong. 

Nie Xunyao involuntarily bites the inside of his lip to fight back the dread threatening to close his throat. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Until he's in control again. 

He leans forward, gaze intent. "What do I owe you, biao di?" 

The silence stretches between them. But, just as he thinks Nie Huaisang is going to simply block him out entirely, the ghost closes his eyes and sighs inaudibly, all of the tension in his body bleeding out, then bows his head and stretches out a hand towards the ground.  

Nie Xunyao looks down and watches as the words emerge under the scratch of his cousin’s nails -right side up for him, rather impressively- in the earth. 

'Be content with this family.'

Nie Xunyao frowns, wondering what exactly that's supposed to mean. Of course he knows he's doing much better here than he could have been, why would he need to be reminded to...? 

Oh. 

Wait. 

"Did the life you saw me living involve me trying to join my father?" 

A nod. 

Nie Xunyao's breath leaves him in a sharp wheeze, as if the ghost had outright punched him in the stomach. "Ha. Ah… You won't have to worry about that. My mother and I know better now." Screwing up his nerve, he reaches out and takes hold of his cousin's free hand. "But that... that can’t be all you want from me, can it? After all of this? Everything you gave up?" 

Another head tilt, this time of consideration. 

Then a second nod. 

And he understands. Whatever else had gone so horribly Sour between them, it must have been born out of that desire to be with his father. 

Before he can ask anything more, the door bangs open again and Nie Jinghe comes running out with several blank scrolls and sheets of paper. "You better not have done anything cool without me!" 

Nie Xunyao smiles at his little cousin. "Just boring grown up talk." 

"You're not a grown up! You’re ten and a half!" 

"I’m still more grown up than He-mei is," he retorts just to tease, all the little nervous knots in his stomach vanishing as he catches his other cousin hiding a small smile behind his sleeve at their bickering.

[fukanouna]

Bound by a Thread: Chapter One - Avengers Compound (2015)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: After Ultron's defeat, Wanda moved to America and began her new life as an Avenger under the mentorship of Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. Wanda doesn't know what to do with these new budding feelings she's experiencing around the redhead, while Natasha discovers she still does have a heart after what happened with Bruce. However, Natasha's dark past resurfaces and comes between them, and Wanda finds out that her powers might not be strong enough to stop it.

Chapters: ( Prologue )

Chapter Word Count: 2569

A/N: Present day - and by present day, I mean set after AoU

---

"On your left."

Profusely sweating, Sam grunted in exasperation when Steve lapped him for the fifth time.

"On your right."

Moments later, Natasha smirked as she passed Sam, making better progress at keeping up with the blonde super soldier than he was. Sam's brow furrowed in annoyance but kept pressing on.

"Above."

Before Sam could even question who the voice belonged to, Bucky dropped down from the air several feet in front of Sam and chased after Steve and Natasha without looking back at the former Air Forces soldier.

"OH, COME ON! YOU GUYS ARE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!" Sam cried out in annoyance and pushed himself to close the distance between him and the others to no avail.

From a rooftop of a building beside the compound's track field, Wanda stood beside Vision and giggled at the sight of Sam complaining to the other three runners at the finish line. Steve didn't break a sweat, not even a strand of hair out of place, but still tried to placate his friend. Natasha stood off to the side and leaned against the fence while sipping from her water bottle to hide her smirk. Even Bucky, who took residence at the compound not too long ago, was expressing amusement when he was characteristically more aloof and stoic.

It had been several months since Ultron's defeat. As there was nothing left for her in Sokovia, Wanda took up Tony Stark's offer to move to America with the rest of the Avengers on a green card. The transition to another country was difficult, experiencing the concept of culture shock firsthand, but she couldn't deny her curiosity or excitement. She was always fascinated by American culture ever since she was a little girl from all the American sitcoms she watched with her family, and though those sitcoms were old and dated to the present, it was still an eye-opening experience to walk through the bustling streets of New York with the team or the more suburban areas of New Jersey on days they took off from training.

Despite the terrible things she did when she was on Ultron's side, the members of the Avengers were surprisingly welcoming and oddly protective. She was never near the conference room or the lab whenever Steve and Tony were discussing her presence and living arrangements in America with Secretary Ross, but she heard from Sam that the two veteran Avengers fought for her right to stay at the Compound.

Wanda was already surprised by the fact Tony Stark stood up for her, even though he was well aware of her feelings towards him, but she was even more shocked to hear that it was Natasha who managed to convince Ross.

"I don't know how she did it either," Sam agreed with a shrug. "But considering the type of woman Nat is, I'm sure she had several methods up her sleeves to convince that hardass Ross."

Natasha Romanoff.

The Black Widow.

The former assassination barely spoke to Wanda when she first officially joined the team. She thought Natasha held a grudge against her for causing terrible memories to resurface. When Wanda witnessed the redhead's memories back at the shipyard, she felt remorseful for causing Natasha to relive those memories, even though they were on opposing sides. The things she saw in Natasha's memories… no one deserved what the other woman went through.

When she approached Natasha to ask her why she defended Wanda, Natasha answered without hesitation.

"You deserve to be here just as much as anyone of us."

"But I couldn't protect the drill," Wanda protested. "Everyone trusted me, and I failed."

Natasha's green gaze bore into Wanda's. "You saw your twin brother, the only family you had left, get buried in bullets. No one can blame you for letting down your guard after witnessing something like that."

That was when Wanda discovered that Natasha wasn't as heartless or emotionless as she originally believed, and not long after, she was assigned to train directly under Natasha's supervision.

Wanda snapped out of her thoughts when she realized that Steve and Natasha were calling out to her and Vision. Together with the synthezoid, they both slowly descended in front of their mentors.

"We'll take an hour break before resuming today's training itinerary," Steve announced to the team as they gathered around in a circle. He points two fingers at Vision and Sam. "We'll resume Monday's focus on team formations in the forest conditions."

Natasha looked over at Wanda and nodded towards her. "You and I will be in the good ol' gym. I got something new for you."

"That's just another way of telling me to prepare myself for another beating," Wanda whined. Natasha never seriously injured her during they've sparred and when the redhead tested her physical endurance, but that didn't mean Wanda wasn't going to feel the burning ache in her muscles the following day.

"You'll be fine. You're a tough girl," Natasha smirked in amusement, which only made Wanda let out a defeated groan.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda watched as Bucky quietly walked away back into the compound. The former Winter Soldier was the latest addition to the team, although Ross was not aware of this. About a month ago, Steve and Natasha went on a mission alone to bring Bucky back when there were rumored sightings of him in Romania. Neither Avenger went into detail how they managed to bring him back, but Steve was happy and that's all that mattered. Tony made it mandatory for Bucky to undergo a special type of neurotherapy every day in the lab to remove the troubling psychological conditioning HYDRA forced upon him because they'd eventually have to inform Ross of Bucky's presence in the compound. Better that the former sergeant was free from his mind control if they were to get on Ross' good side.

Within moments, everyone else followed right behind Bucky. Wanda fell into step with Natasha, walking beside the older woman. "Would you be willing to tell me what this new form of training you have is?"

"Patience, Maximoff. Take advantage of your one-hour break and don't worry about it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who is going to be sore tomorrow morning," Wanda huffed. She made a mental note to herself that she caught Natasha smiling again, something that became more common when the two of them talked. Before, she only saw the former Widow smile around Steve and Clint, but now knowing Natasha smiled around her made Wanda feel special in the form of her heart doing what she could only describe as flips. It was a silly feeling, sure, but it mattered a lot knowing Natasha felt comfortable around her.

"Pain only makes you stronger," Natasha responded with a wry smile.

"I'm starting to believe you enjoy seeing me in pain," Wanda muttered flatly, which drew out a chuckle from the redhead.

"I take pride in knowing my training shows results, that's all."

---

After washing her face and changing into another plain tee and comfortable sweats, Wanda made her way to the gym once it was time for her training with Natasha. She always had to be punctual and put in effort to be at the gym ten minutes early just in case, or else the spy would make her run laps until her legs actually gave out.

Once Wanda pushed through the double doors of the gymnasium, she saw Natasha standing on the mats as usual. What caught the Sokovian's eyes was a long, black cloth in Natasha's hands. "I'm assuming that has something to do with this new training you have in store for me," Wanda commented as she pointed at the piece of material in question.

"Very perceptive of you, Maximoff," Natasha grinned slyly. "You'll be blindfolded during your training today. You will also be using your powers."

This surprised Wanda. Ever since she began training as an Avenger, it was always with no powers. Steve put emphasis on improving Wanda's physical strength and stamina, toning her body as a whole, and under Natasha's mentorship, the brunette has seen and felt a difference in her body's physique. The sudden switch to her powers made Wanda nervous.

"Did… did I do something wrong?" Wanda carefully probed. She wondered to herself if her powers went out of control when she was asleep, like times when she'd doze off in the common area while reading. The Sokovian was certain she could control her powers when she was conscious, but she couldn't throw out the possibility that her powers could be a risk if she wasn't conscious and aware.

Natasha easily picked up on the underlying concern behind the question and immediately shook her head. "You didn't. I promise," the older woman assured her. "You've done well in your physical training, and I thought it was time we start to mix things up and implement training with your powers." Natasha walked over to Wanda and stood behind her, already putting the blindfold over Wanda's eyes without warning. "Today's focus is what I call sensory training. For you to be ready for field missions, you need to hone your other senses in order to increase awareness of your surroundings. In Novi Grad when you were fighting against Ultron's sentry units, you destroyed so many on your own with ease, but you had all of us to watch your six. However, there will be times when you'll be alone in enemy territory, and you will need to be able to pick up on the quietest of sounds because not reacting to defend yourself in time is the difference between life or death."

Wanda simply gave a firm nod as Natasha tightened the knot of the blindfold. What the other woman said made sense. This was another skill she needed to learn and quickly master if she wanted to be chosen for missions like the others. "What will I be doing?" she asked. She tried to look through the blindfold, but the thick material made it difficult, only able to see darkness.

"You must use your other senses to gauge where I'll be attacking from. Once you've discerned which direction I'm coming from, you will put up a shield with your powers to block my attack," Natasha instructed.

Wanda held her breath when she could hear Natasha walking around her and tensed when she could no longer hear the other's footsteps. Suddenly, she felt hot breath on her right ear.

"I could come from your right."

That same breath suddenly shifted to her left ear in less than a second.

"Or your left." Natasha's voice was low and gravelly, and Wanda felt goosebumps form on the back of her neck. She could have sworn she felt Natasha's lips on her ear just now. "Now the test begins."

When silence followed, Wanda stiffened in anticipation and her palms glowed red, temporarily burying her previous thoughts for now. She desperately tried to hear the spy, but Natasha's footsteps were too quiet, and the anxiety bubbling in her stomach began to grow.

"Wanda." The Sokovian instantly put up a barrier in front of her out of panic. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment when she heard Natasha tutting at her, an indication that she was incorrect. "I'm still on your left," Natasha revealed to the younger woman. "You need to take slow, deep breaths, Wanda. I can tell from the rise and fall of your chest that you are stressed. You won't be able to listen for me when all you can hear is the blood pumping in your ears. Calm yourself. Breathe."

"Sorry…" Wanda mumbled but did as she was told. The Russian was right; all she could hear was the loud throbbing of blood in her ears. She deeply inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth, over and over until there was better clarity in her hearing. Once she felt her heart slowed down, the pulsating feeling in her ears started to go away, and Wanda could listen with a bit more clarity. It was very faint, but she could pick up on the sound of Natasha's footsteps, though she couldn't pinpoint which direction. The next thing she knew she was being shoved to the ground, falling onto her back with a yelp.

"Concentrate," Natasha commanded. "You must control your breathing while remaining aware of your surroundings." To Wanda, it seemed that Natasha's voice was coming from every direction, as if the spy was constantly circling her. "You have other senses than just hearing and sight; you also have touch. I can control my footsteps, but I cannot control the air around me as I move around, especially when I move swiftly. Learn to feel the shift in the air around you."

For the next fifteen minutes, Wanda was either pushed or kicked down to the mats. It was frustrating that she couldn't guess the correct direction, but with each attempt, Wanda was learning. She began to notice the feel and direction her hair would move in just before Natasha would attack, committing the sensation and direction to memory. The brunette wasn't sure when it happened, but she was no longer anxious while waiting for Natasha to make a move. Wanda was able to maintain her composure while being alert to any sound or movement.

Then Wanda felt a slight breeze flow past her right. Without turning around, she created a misty crimson barrier to protect her backside followed by the sound of something colliding into her shield. A low, thoughtful hum came from Natasha. Wanda interpreted the sound that the redhead made indicated that she was impressed. Wanda really hoped she impressed her mentor. Her body unintentionally froze when she felt Natasha's lips near her ear again and couldn't stop her cheeks from growing warm.

"Well done, Maximoff."

Wanda bit back a smile as she lifted her blindfold to meet Natasha's deep green eyes that shone with pride.

"Hello, ladies. Hope I'm not interrupting girl's night."

Both women turned their heads to the double doors to find Tony wearing a business casual outfit and glasses that were still transitioned from the sun.

"Stark." Wanda acknowledged his presence with a dip of the head. She knew that under his egotistical and cocky nature was a genuine kind and thoughtful man, but she still had trouble figuring out how to act around the billionaire.

"First off, it's only four-thirty in the afternoon," Natasha pointed out with her hands on her hips. "You were only interrupting my training with Wanda, but we were just about to wrap up."

"Great! I just finished telling the others that we'll be flying to Seoul tomorrow morning so make sure you pack a duffle or suitcase tonight," Tony announced with a boisterous voice. Then he turned to Wanda with a grin. "I heard back from Dr. Cho."

Wanda immediately perked up at the mention of the South Korean city. "Does that mean…?"

Tony nodded. "That's right. We're going to see your brother."

Tears brimmed Wanda's eyes as she broke out into a broad smile. Natasha came over to her and placed a delicate hand on her shoulder. "I'm happy for you, Wanda."

Wanda could only relay her appreciation by directing her smile at Natasha, the emotions that were welled up in her throat making it difficult to speak.

Pietro… I'm coming.

---

A/N: Yep, Pietro survived and is alive :) Meanwhile, Wanda and Natasha's relationship is beginning to bud. Please let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading! :)

[randomfanner]

How Would it Feel?

TW: Violence, lots and lot of violence because it is Durge.

Plot: The Dark Urge begins to fantasize about killing the tyrant whom has created their glorious plan.

Calax does not appreciate it.

The tyrant and his grand plan of tyranny, orchasted with the help of a Bhaalspawn. An utterly ridiculous prospect made into truth. 

Bane and his collection of Banites was never looked favorably upon by any of the Bhaalists. Despite the fact the dead three had been a trio that took on the powers of Jergal, there was never any sense of comradery between the gods it seemed. At least never something stable enough to function long term.

Why would they continue working together? The three had gotten what they all wished for, godhood. Their partnership was as good as finished once their mutual goal had been reached.  

Calax’s back was pressed against the wall near his desk, watching as Gortash fiddled with documents that Calax didn’t nor did he have any interest in understanding. Gortash’s job was to be the iron fist, the one who would run the ins and outs of daily life in the new emperor he planned on forging. The one to pass laws that would benefit the both of them and keep the frontline of power.

Calax had his role of course, and it was not in some fancy office, decorated with fine and soft silks of glorious royal purple hue. It was not in the realm of gold and silver and copper that would decorate the tyrant as he paraded himself to the adoring public. It was not in strategy halls or law meetings, swaying those who fell for sweet words.

Calax’s role was to be steeped in the blood of their enemies, of those who would pose a threat to their empire. Sowing the seeds of chaos that would blossom into the flowers of prosperity, much like how Ketheric would do the same for the fear. All of the pieces to be arranged by Gortash to follow his grand design.

Calax watched him, the mastermind of their plan. He had played his part in every way. Coming up with how and having the resources to execute the plan. Soon their Illithid empire would span across all of Faerūn and it was thanks to him that it was at all possible.

It was going so perfectly smoothly in fact, Gortash may not even be needed anymore.

How would it feel, Calax wondered? That wonderful brain crushed under his fingers, the gray matter crushing from his hand. Ripping that silvered tongue from his throat, shredding the thing that had charmed many including the child of Bhaal. To hold the beating heart in his fingers, crushing it as his warm blood gushed out from his fingers.

“Is there something you needed, Calax?” Gortash didn’t even look up from his work as he asked the question.

Calax’s hand stopped in the air. It took the tiefling a moment to process what he had been doing. Calax took a step back as he pulled his hand back towards his body.  “... It is nothing,” Calax muttered.

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“If you are certain,” Gortash said as he picked up a pen, beginning a reply to one of the letters without a care in the world. 

Calax sucked in a breath as he walked around the desk. “I am going out.”

“Shall I see you later?” Gortash asked. 

“Mmmm,” maybe, maybe not. Calax wasn’t sure what the answer was as his bare feet moved from the hard and cold wood to the soft carpet in the center of the office. Calax pushed open the wooden door and shut it behind him before he rested his entire body against the door. 

Calax put a hand over his face and moved it back, running over his curved horns and into his dark hair, forever stained red. His urges had been quiet towards the tyrant this far. Of course the thought of spilling his blood had come to mind from time to time, but only flickers in bigger thoughts. Ripping through a conference of Banites that Gortash was leading, devouring the corpses of nobles at a ball Gortash attended, removing the heads of citizens when he walked behind Gortash in public.

The two of them as they lay on the altar of Bhaal, their lives fading in union as they both went to the murder lord.

It had yet to be simply the wish to rip Lord Enver Gortash to shreds.

Calax shook his head as he moved off the door and began to march through the halls, letting his mind focus on that. Other people, the screams of horror and the color of their blood. The constant red that would flow from them.

That would flow from Enver Gortash once he ripped him apart limb by limb.

No.

Calax couldn’t kill him. He was the key to their empire. To the way they would rule the world together. 

Gortash was the key in the bloody mess of the world Calax would bring once he had control of the Elder Brain. The last thing Gortash sees being the way the earth burned all due to his wonderful planning, all for Lord Bhaal. The anguish as his perfectly crafted empire became nothing more than dust due to the assassin he had brought along to fulfill the plan. 

Calax looked down in front of him as he snapped out of his fantasy.

Underneath him was a maid. He hadn’t even noticed how he ripped her head off when he was lost in thought. Calax sucked in a breath through his nose as he stood up. Someone else would clean it up when they found it. 

He needed out of these finely decorated halls. 

He needed to dye the streets red.

If he stated the craving for flesh, perhaps he would be spared the thoughts of ruining Gortash’s plan. Of ruining Gortash. 

Father would spare him, after all the tyrant was still useful.

At least for now. And surely Calax could find more ways the tyrant could be useful for spilling blood. Bane still lived despite the existence of Bhaal, the dead three always found use for the others eventually. 

Calax would just have to do the same for Gortash.

Surely.