#I take a step toward that room in my head and collide with a brick wall

[novelconcepts]

I don’t understand how a person can miss writing so much and yet be utterly paralyzed by the idea of going back to it.

[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[fadingdaggerr]

beckon me back

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: brienne comes home to winterfell after a much too long assignment

warnings: fluff, brief soft smut, arya being a menace and a cockblock, reader is a northerner (but no house stated, just that they follow the old gods)

note: sorry i’ve been away. i’ve had a lot going on in my personal life and my mental health has been horrible. hope this makes up for the absence :) also title is from animal by troye sivan

sleeping alone should not be this difficult, truly. you’d spent years alone, sleeping and traveling alike. she changed everything the first night she accidentally fell asleep on your bed one night. you had grown all to used to the warm body that wrapped around yours in the late hours, the one that snuck into your room after everyone went to bed just so she could hold you.

the cold stone of the windowsill froze your arms and hands, skin now cool to the touch. every night for the last two months, you’d been sat in this very spot, watching and waiting for her return. you’d watched rain fall from the clouds, watched as more snow gathered on the yards of winterfell, watched until your eyes burned with sleep and arms froze with the northern air. any day now.

—

a harsh push against your shoulder wakes you, another makes you open your eyes with annoyance written on your face. when your eyes finally focus, arya stark is in your face, all dressed and ready.

“get up, sloth. time to break our fasts and train,” she says as she gets off the bed.

you groan as you rise from the mattress, “you’re the one who trains, stark. i just patch up your unsuspecting victims.”

a bearskin cloak is launched on top of you head, “get dressed and get down to the dining hall. my orders, as the sister of the lady of winterfell.”

“i hate you,” you grumble as tie your trousers and tuck in the linen top.

“next thing i throw at you will be a brick. five minutes,” arya responds with a laugh as she leaves your quarters.

you checked your appearance in the mirror, everything matched, brown bearskin, brown trousers, brown boots. the only thing different was the blue tunic with grey strings, a shirt from the wardrobe at the foot of the bed. her shirt. the thought made a smile cross your face.

the descent to the dining hall felt lonely, you’d grown used to the arm looped with yours, but at least you wouldn’t be lonely at the end. the hall was boisterous with laughter and the sound of dishes clacking. you made your way through, grabbing a plate and stabbing sausages from the large dishes, as well as fruit and a thick slice of bread. you move to sit next to arya, who slides across fruit spread for you.

you half-listen to arya talk to the others at the table, training and whatever else they liked to discuss most of the day. you poked at the apple and pear slices on your plate, hardly interested in anything at all it seemed. your thoughts were broken by the horns blowing, and a call of ‘riders incoming!’

before anyone can say anything to you, you’re bolting out of the dining hall. the stone under your boots becomes snow as you head towards the gates as fast as lightning. by the time you reach the gates, they’re hardly open, but you can hear the horses whinnying from the other side. the guards laugh lightly watching you bounced on the balls on your feet waiting for her to step through the gates, to finally be home with you. the gates fully open and you’re nearly vibrating with excitement.

a black mare walked through the gates, a brown mare behind. the knight atop the first looked around as she entered the gates, blue eyes scanning each face until they find yours. she’s quick to dismount the mare, stroking her mane in thanks, before passing the lead off to a stableboy. the second her hands are free, you run towards her.

you collide into her chest with a hard thunk and a hard exhale from her lungs. her arms hold you tightly as your face moves to take residence in her neck, arms linked around her neck. she takes the opportunity to lift you off the ground slightly, walking you away from the gates and out of the way of the horses.

“i missed you,” you mumble into her skin as she sets your feet back on the ground, but you don’t let go from your hold.

“i missed you more,” she says in return, with a soft kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek. “come with me to greet lady sansa? i’m sure she’ll let me have the day to settle in once i’ve given report.”

all you want is to have her all to yourself, but what the lady of winterfell says, goes. you walk with brienne, arm-in-arm, happy, no longer lonely. you stand off to the side as sansa welcomes brienne home, a gentle hug shared between two friends. podrick comes to stand next to you, and you link your arms and rest your head on his shoulder while he speaks to only you.

“she’ll try to hide it, but she’s got a pretty large scrape down her side from a fall,” you grip his arm tighter as a question, “we got ambushed by a small group of raiders. thought they could overpower us, only win of the night for them was pushing her into a fallen tree.”

“what was their fate?” you ask, anger towards the men evident in your tone.

“cut down shortly after she got back up.”

“good,” you say with a bitter smile, your eyes glued to brienne as she spoke to sansa.

brienne bows and turns away from sansa, making her away over to you and pod. you untangle your arm from your friend’s, only to have brienne’s arm wrap around your waist underneath your cloak. her fingers play with the material of the shirt you’re wearing, a smile stretches across her face.

—

the large oak door shuts behind you. immediately you’re pressed against it with brienne’s lips moving against yours with a hurry. her hands firm on your hips, yours on the back on her neck, fingers tangled in her short hair. you push yourself off the wall, backing brienne towards the bed. the back of her knees hit the bed, causing her body to fall onto the bed and take you with her. your hands find the bottom of her tunic, pulling it up until you reveal the entirety of her abdomen.

“darling, wait-” she rushes to pull her top down.

“pod didn’t say they were this bad…” your fingers hovered over the injury, not wanting to put more pressure on the reddening skin.

“it’s not, i swear. it’s healing that’s why it looks- you already know that,” she says with a huff.

“i do,” you say through a laugh, “just like i know you would’ve tried to hide this as long as possible.” you get off the bed, with only a groan from brienne in refusal. grabbing your kit, you find a salve and bandages to coat her cuts. you rounded the bed and manhandled brienne until she was sat up to make it easier to check her wounds.

her skin is so soft, it should be a crime in itself to hurt someone so beautiful, you think to yourself. you pull her tunic off of her, exposing her chest and abdomen to you. fingers trace the collection of freckles across her skin, the scars from years of battle, following her story before tending to her. you lightly apply the salve with barely-there pressure. your focus stays on her skin, not noticing how brienne is in an awe of her own just looking at you.

soft eyes watching how gentle you are with her, not once did she think it possible that she would be so adored. the excited way you had taken her arm, how you kissed the bandages you placed on her. and don’t get her started on the sheer joy she felt when she saw you waiting for her, especially after sansa had said all you do is wait for her when she’s away.

as you pulled away from her abdomen, her hands rose to hold you face. you nearly melted at that peaceful gaze in her eyes, the rosiness that painted her cheeks from your affections. your head moved forewords, pressing your lips to her forehead, between her eyes, the top of her nose, until you pressed your lips to hers, soft and sweet.

“all done,” another kiss, “nothing strenuous for a week,” another, “one. week. do you hear me brienne?”

she smiles, knowing she’s guilty of not listening and causing herself more pain, “whatever shall i do then for a whole week, sweet healer of mine?”

“i have a couple ideas,” you say as you lean into her, watching as she licks her lips in anticipation.

“really?” she says thickly. “and what are they?”

you move to speak directly into her ear, your lips just barely grazing the shell as you whisper, “rest and read a book.”

brienne grabs you and twists so that you’re underneath her, splayed across the mattress. your arms immediately fling to her neck, laughing loudly at the action. she presses a long, sound kiss to your lips, nudging your nose with hers as she pulls away.

“i love you,” you say, breathless from laughter and her lips. one hand moves to her hair, the other traces shapes along her bare back.

“i love you,” her face hides in your neck. she presses soft pecks along your neck where her lips can reach.

you continue your ministrations as you speak, “never leave me for that long again. two months without you was torture.”

brienne laughs lightly, “it felt the same for me, my love. but i had to remind myself, quite often, that it was my duty and that running off to you would only cost of more than we’d gain.”

“aye, my name’s brienne of tarth and i like honor more than a rather skilled tongue on m-” you’re stopped by a hand over your lips, brienne’s face never leaving your neck.

“didn’t you say i had to rest?” she says, face warming already.

“i didn’t say i had to,” you say as your arms wrap around her shoulder, a leg around her hips. “you could just,” you twist and switch your positions, now straddling her hips with her eyes staring up at you, “lay back.”

your lips crash to hers, but waste no time to start nipping at her neck and licking over her skin. when your mouth finds her breasts, you feel her hands grip at your back. a swirl of your tongue makes nails dig into your skin through your shirt, a suck of her skin makes a groan rise from her throat. your hands ignore the expanse of her stomach, not wanting to touch her still sensitive wounds.

your lips find sanctuary with hers as your free hand unties her pants. her teeth nip and pull at your lips, making you moan into her mouth. i love you’s said with every kiss, bite, touch. you hand moves into her pants, not bothering to remove them, needing to feel her. she’s so warm, so wet, for you. your fingers trace along her folds, gathering her arousal before bringing your hand to your mouth. your eyes roll back with a moan at the taste of her, and brienne swears she sees every god at the sight of you.

finding yourself back between her legs, your middle finger enters her slowly as you watch her face. another enters after a few pumps, making brienne moan deeply. her hands force your lips down to hers, to which go gladly accept. everything about her is perfect to you, and for something as perfect as her to be missing from you, it was painful. but not as painful as the hard knocking on your door was at this second.

“WE NEED A HEALER OUT HERE!” arya screamed through the door.

your hand slowly pulled away from brienne as you groaned loudly before telling back, “BREAK MY DOOR AND I’LL KICK YOUR ASS, GIRL!”

“FIVE MINUTES!” she replies before you hear her footsteps disappear.

“go,” brienne says through a laugh, “before she injures more people, especially you.”

you kiss her gently before rising, “i’m sorry. i’ll be quick as a fox, i promise.”

she catches your hand before bringing to her lips, “quick as a fox.”

—

wrapping a bandage around rickon’s arm, you speak to arya, “you could’ve gotten literally anyone else to do this.”

she shakes her head, “rickon doesn’t like anyone else.”

you look at rickon with a smile, “that true, little lord? i’m your favorite?”

his curly hair bounces as he nods, “yeah. especially because you’re married to a knight.”

you feel your cheek warm as you laugh at his comment, “we’re not married, sweet lord,” you tie the bandage so it stays secure, “i’m not sure the gods would allow us. but we love each other regardless, i assure you.”

you rise from your crouch in front of rickon before scanning around for others who may need you. seeing none, you shove the medicine kit into arya’s arms.

“if anyone needs help, use some common sense. i’m going back to my quarters and barring the door. bother us again before the sun rises tomorrow, and i’ll drop you down a well. good evening, m’lady, m’lord.”

—

sun shining through the window hits your eyes, waking you from a deep and peaceful slumber. knuckles dug into your eyes as you rubbed them harshly, desperate to get rid of the brightness. you blinked a few times before looking at your stomach, finally processing the weight on top of you.

a quietly sleeping brienne, head resting on your lower abdomen, one hand flailed off to the side as the other held your thigh. you smile at the view, you had missed waking up like this. with her.

after allowing yourself to admire her for a while, you brushed your fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp as a means to gently wake her. her only sign of waking is a loud exhale and a soft kiss to your skin.

“the sun is rising, we must join it, lovely,” you say with a yawn. brienne’s head rises, lowering for a moment to kiss lower than she had before, then climbing up and taking purchase in your neck.

your hands push her head back so you can look at her. sleepy blue eyes looking back, adoration swimming in pools of sodalite. she drops her head to kiss you, lips lazy and soft. when she shifts her thigh between yours, you pull back.

“brienne…” she kisses you softly, then let’s you speak again, “we should be getting ready.” this time you seal your sentence with a kiss to her lips.

“i know, but you’re comfortable. i quite missed my personal pillow,” she says with a smile, one that has your heart stuttering.

you laugh at her words, “and i missed my personal blanket, but we still must rise,” her huffed breath makes you laugh more, “usually the roles are reversed here. don’t you want to break your fast and enjoy your day? surely you don’t want to lay here all day.”

“i’d be fine laying here all day with you,” her words make your heart ache, “but you won’t let that happen, will you?”

her eyes and voice were swaying you, the little patterns her fingers traces were silently begging you to stay. you sigh and answer with, “if the lady sansa gives us leave for the day, i will gladly stay here with you until the sun rises on the morrow,” she smiles, “but you must eat, you haven’t since you returned.”

“yes, i have. you don’t recall?”

you burst with laughter, “not what i meant and you know it, absolute menace.”

you’re lost in your own mind staring at brienne as she catches up with friends around the room. a pea flies across the table and pelts against your cheek, you look up to see arya. she slides down to you, holding her cup to her face to hide her mouth as she spoke.

“did she even give you a break? you looked like she gave you purpose with her hands,” she jests.

“good morning to you too, lady arya. it is a lovely morning, i agree,” you say with sarcasm dripping in your voice.

“so she really did you in, i see. but seriously, you seem happier with her around. i’m happy for you,” she says before getting an orange seed to the face.

“you’re so weird,” you knocked her shoulder, “but you’re right, she makes me happy,” you smile as you watch brienne laughs loudly. her gaze lands on yours, eyes crinkling with her big smile.

i love you, your eyes scream to her.

i love you, hers yell back.

again sorry for being ia. i’ll work on being a bit more active :) as usual, feedback is appreciated love u big time <3

[doormatty3]

Pushing Further - Josh POV (Josh Lambert x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Josh Lambert x Female Reader] [Josh Lambert x You] In hindsight, I could sense the trouble brewing before I knew it. However, I failed to anticipate that the trouble wouldn't manifest in Daltons and my usual arguments but rather in the form of one of his fellow students. She’s beautiful, funny, and yet, inconveniently, she happens to be not only my son's friend but also considerably younger than I am. Despite the inherent complications and the boundaries that should logically keep us apart, there's an undeniable magnetic pull drawing us closer together, a force neither of us can seem to resist – like celestial bodies orbiting each other, inevitably destined for collision. And boy, do we collide.

OR: How I fucked his friend in a college dorm room.

Wordcount: 8,611

Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues

A/N: I was asked to write this story from Joshs POV - so here we are. If you want read-chans POV - click here

God, why did I tell Dalton I’d take him to college?

It seemed like a good idea at the time, a chance to bond and perhaps bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing day. But now, as I navigate the car into the crowded parking lot, I’m not so sure anymore. Dalton, with his sharp wit and unforgiving judgment, always seems to find fault in my every word. 

The college, a towering grey stone building, only adds to my unease. Its presence looms over us, a silent witness to our strained dynamic.

We exit the car silently and wordlessly, our shared tension palpable in the air. Words linger on the tip of my tongue, but they dissolve into the abyss of uncertainty. Together, we retrieve Dalton’s belongings, each shouldering a backpack and crate. 

As we trudge towards the entrance of the college, the weight of the crates mirrors the weight of our shared silence.

The sun casts its golden glow over the bustling campus, illuminating the scene with warmth, and I find myself immersed in a vibrant tapestry of new beginnings. Students move about, their laughter and chatter filling the air with excitement while parents guide their children towards the threshold of their next chapter. 

Yet, amidst this sea of optimism, melancholy washes over me. 

I observe the seamless interactions around me and the apparent ease with which other parents navigate the situation. They exude confidence and composure, their futures brimming with promise, while Dalton and I struggle to exchange even a civil word without it erupting into conflict.

As we stroll along the campus pathways, my gaze drifts lazily over the lush canopy of trees that envelop the college grounds.

Suddenly, my breath catches in my throat as my eyes settle on her. 

A woman, nestled beneath the shade of a sprawling tree, captivates my attention. She’s young, probably a senior or a new professor, finding solace in the embrace of nature. 

The wind teases the strands of her hair, coaxing them into a mesmerising dance, rippling and swaying with every gust. Each movement seems orchestrated, a ballet of nature’s own design, accentuating her effortless grace. 

Despite my best efforts to avert my gaze, I find myself drawn to her, captivated by the ethereal beauty she exudes. 

I quickly shake my head, chastising myself for entertaining such thoughts. It’s unwelcome, inappropriate, a mere distraction from the turmoil brewing in my life.

Each step feels uncertain. The distance between us echoes the chasm of misunderstanding that has grown over time. As we traverse the campus pathways, the vibrant pulse of student life surrounds us, a stark reminder of the vibrant community we’re a part of yet somehow apart from.

The dormitories loom ahead, their brick facades standing as silent sentinels against the sky’s backdrop. I steal a glance at Dalton, noting the furrow of his brow and the tension etched in the lines of his face. Despite our shared silence, a sense of determination flickers within me. Perhaps amidst the chaos of new beginnings, we can find a moment of clarity, a chance to bridge the chasm that divides us.

_____

As we reach Dalton’s dormitory room, a sense of anticipation lingers in the air, mingling with the faint scent of freshly laundered linens. The door swings open to reveal a surprisingly inviting space, a quintessential collage of collegiate life. The room is cosy yet functional, with twin beds neatly made, their comforters adorned with vibrant patterns that hint at the personality of its occupants.

Sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm glow upon the worn wooden desk and mismatched chairs that occupy the room. 

With a nod of approval, Dalton steps into the room, his eyes scanning the space with a hint of satisfaction. 

“Alright, you get first dibs,” I announce, relieved to find Dalton’s roommate absent. With a grateful sigh, I set down the folding crate on the sturdy wooden table, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling into my muscles from lugging Dalton’s belongings.

_____

I watch silently as Dalton retrieves his drawings and paintings from the crate, his movements purposeful as he begins to arrange them on the wall above his bed. My gaze drifts downward, drawn to a particular pencil drawing among his creations. With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, I reach out and pick it up, my fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence.

It’s a portrait of my mother - his grandmother - a hauntingly beautiful rendition that captures her essence with startling clarity. A pang of loss reverberates through me as memories of her flood my mind, her presence a bittersweet reminder of the love and warmth she brought into our lives.

“Wow, this is intense,” I remark softly, unable to tear my eyes away from the drawing. “Is that what you’ve been working on?”

Dalton turns around, his expression clouded with annoyance as he sees me holding the drawing. With a weary sigh, he mutters, “Put it back.”

But I can’t bring myself to comply. “No, this is really good,” I insist, my voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

I wish he would just accept the compliment, let down his guard and allow me to share in his world. 

I gaze at the drawing once more, my eyes tracing the intricate lines and shadows that bring my mother’s image to life. “Did you do this from memory?” I inquire, my curiosity piqued.

“No,” Dalton replies quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s from a photo I found at the house.”

I nod in understanding, a swell of pride swelling within me. “Wow, it looks like she’s...” I begin, searching for the right words to convey the mix of emotions stirred by the portrait. But before I can finish my thought, Dalton interjects with a sombre observation.

“Like she’s hiding something?” he suggests, his tone tinged with melancholy.

His words catch me off guard, prompting me to furrow my brow in confusion. “What do you mean?” I inquire, my mind racing to make sense of his cryptic statement.

“It’s what it feels like,” Dalton explains, his voice tinged with resignation. “Felt like for the last few years.”

His words hang heavy in the air between us, a silent testament to the unspoken tensions that have simmered beneath the surface of our relationship. 

“She had a tough go, you know, being a single mom,” I murmur, my voice heavy with empathy.

As Dalton begins to speak, I tear my gaze away from the portrait, focusing once more on his words. “Yeah, yeah, that’s tough,” he replies, his voice carrying a note of resignation.

I can sense the unspoken pain lingering beneath his words,  knowing that his acknowledgement extends beyond mere recognition of my words. It’s a painful reminder of the sacrifices my ex-wife made, the burden she bore alone in raising our children.

With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly set the photo down once more, my gaze drifting back to the folding crate, trying to busy myself with unpacking.

____

I pivot on my heels, my gaze drawn towards the wall adorned with Dalton’s paintings. Each one is a testament to his talent, his brushstrokes capturing moments of intimacy and connection - moments that prominently feature his mother and siblings. But as I scan the array of images, a pang of bitterness lingers within me, a reminder of my absence from his artistic portraits.

“Guess I didn’t make the wall, huh?” I remark bitterly, unable to suppress the pang of hurt that accompanies the realisation of my exclusion.

Before he can offer an explanation, I raise a hand to halt his words, and my jaw clenches in an effort to mask my disappointment. “I don’t blame you,” I mutter quietly, the words heavy with resignation as I turn away, unwilling to confront the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

Turning away, I busy myself with organising the remaining contents of the folding crate, the weight of disappointment settling over me like a shroud.

I feel Dalton’s gaze linger on me, his silence weighing heavily in the air between us. With a heavy sigh, I muster the courage to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush as I attempt to articulate the tangled mess of emotions swirling within me.

“You know, I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately,” I confess, my voice tinged with a mixture of regret and vulnerability. “Of course, my dad wasn’t around at all...but...so it could be a lot worse.”

I pause, searching for the right words to convey the inner turmoil that has consumed me in recent years. “I’ve just been a little foggy these last few years,” I continue, my voice faltering slightly as I try to explain the inexplicable fog that clouds my thoughts and memories.

Admitting my struggles to Dalton is a daunting task - one that fills me with a sense of shame and inadequacy. But I need him to understand, to see beyond the facade of strength I’ve worn for so long.

“I don’t know...my brain just...” I trail off, my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. “I just...haven’t been able to manage time for you, your brother, and sister,” I confess, my voice tinged with a note of desperation. It sounds like a flimsy excuse, I know that, but it’s the only explanation I can offer at this moment.

It feels feeble and inadequate in the face of the pain I’ve caused my family through my absence. 

“Have you ever thought about getting help?” he asks, his voice gentle yet probing.

As Dalton’s voice breaks the weighty silence, I’m momentarily taken aback, my gaze lifting to meet his with a hint of surprise. His question hangs in the air, heavy with concern and genuine curiosity. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips, touched by his willingness to broach such a difficult topic.

The thought of seeking help feels foreign - like an admission of weakness, a testament to the brokenness that lurks within me.

“I...I’m just trying to push through,” I reply hesitantly, the words feeling hollow even as they pass my lips. It’s a feeble attempt to brush off his concern to avoid confronting the uncomfortable truth between us.

Before our conversation can delve any deeper, the dorm room door swings open with a sudden jolt, interrupting our exchange. A girl stands in the doorway, her arms laden with belongings, her expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment as she nearly stumbles into the room.

Caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion, I exchange a brief, apologetic glance with Dalton before turning my attention to the newcomer, offering a hesitant welcome smile.

The girl introduces herself as Chris Winslow. Dalton and I exchange a bemused glance, sharing the mutual confusion over the unexpected twist in his roommate assignment.

“I’m gonna go down to the housing office and get this all sorted out,” I announce, already turning towards the door to address the unforeseen situation.

However, before I can move, Chris speaks up. Her voice is calm and assured as she assures us that she’ll take care of the situation.

Caught off guard by her confidence and initiative, I hesitate momentarily, unsure whether to insist on handling the matter myself or trust in her assurances. But as I meet Dalton’s gaze, a silent understanding passes between us, and I nod in acquiescence, deferring to Chris’s offer to resolve the unexpected hiccup.

As Chris departs, leaving Dalton and me to process the unexpected turn of events, a chuckle escapes my lips. The absurdity of the situation is not lost on me. But as laughter subsides, my thoughts drift to the flyer I had stashed in my pocket earlier.

“Hey, uh,” I begin, rummaging through my pocket until I retrieve the crumpled flyer. “I snagged this for you.”

I extend the flyer towards Dalton, a hopeful glint in my eyes as I encourage him to consider exploring the opportunities presented by the frat party. “You should check it out. If you hate it, no worries,” I add, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “But you’re not gonna hate it.”

However, instead of the excitement I anticipated, Dalton’s expression shifts to one of disappointment, evident as he meets my gaze.

“You really don’t know me, do you?” he retorts, his tone tinged with frustration. “I mean, do you really think I want to join a frat?”

His words strike a nerve, and my smile falters as a wave of frustration washes over me. “It’s just a party, Dalton,” I reply, my tone more defensive than intended. “Go. Have fun. I mean, do it for me - I drove you here.”

But even as the words leave my lips, I can’t shake the sinking feeling that I’ve missed the mark, that my attempts to connect with Dalton have fallen short once again. As I watch him grapple with his frustrations, a pang of regret washes over me, a silent acknowledgement of the barriers that still stand between us.

The accusation cuts through the air like a knife, leaving me momentarily stunned. “You didn’t even want to,” Dalton asserts, his frustration boiling over.

“Of course I did,” I retort, my voice tinged with defensiveness. It’s true that my ex-wife had urged me to drive him to college, but deep down, I had genuinely wanted to spend time with him to bridge the growing divide between us.

“Stop lying to me!” Dalton’s voice rises, his words laced with anger. “I heard what Mom said at the funeral.”

His accusation lands like a punch to the gut, leaving me reeling. 

The exchange of harsh words hangs heavy in the air between us, a testament to the simmering resentment and unspoken pain that has plagued beneath the surface for far too long. My anger flares at Dalton’s biting retort, his words cutting deep into the already fragile bond that binds us.

“Well, I still did it!” I shoot back, my own frustration bubbling to the surface.

His response, laced with sarcasm and bitterness, only fuels my anger. “Oh, so that makes you father of the year now?” he retorts, his tone dripping with disdain.

A pang of hurt pierces my heart at his words, the weight of his accusation heavy upon me. “Well, at least you got a father,” I snap back, my own voice tinged with bitterness.

But Dalton’s following words strike like a dagger to the heart, his anger seething beneath the surface as he lashes out with cold, calculated precision. “Stop blaming your dad for shit you screwed up,” he hisses, his finger pointed accusingly in my direction. “He left like 40 years ago. Get over it. God knows I’m not gonna be defined by you.”

The venom in his words cuts deep, leaving me reeling with a mixture of anger, sadness, and regret. As my temper flares, I unleash a torrent of hurtful words, the weight of my pain driving me to lash out in desperation.

“Are you kidding me? After all we’ve done for you?” I spit out, my voice trembling with emotion. “When did you become this ungrateful little shit?”

The moment the words leave my lips, I regret them, the sting of remorse washing over me like a tidal wave. But it’s too late; the damage is already done as Dalton’s gaze hardens with hurt and betrayal.

“No wonder Mom divorced you,” he throws back at me, his voice cold and unforgiving as he tosses the party flyer aside. “Thanks for the ride.”

With a heavy sigh, I watch Dalton turn away, his dismissal a painful reminder of the chasm separating us. As he retreats into the solitude of his anger, I find myself standing alone in the aftermath of our bitter exchange, grappling with the weight of my failures as a father. With a heavy heart, I turn and leave, the silence of the empty room echoing the emptiness in my soul.

As I hastily make my way down the corridor, the weight of my emotions threatens to overwhelm me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. Desperation drives me forward, my steps quickening as I yearn to escape to the safety of my car.

Suddenly, a collision jolts me from my thoughts. I stumble backwards, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch the figure crumple to the floor with a loud thud. 

I look down to see it’s her - the beautiful young woman from earlier, her striking eyes filled with surprise and confusion.

For a moment, I’m frozen in place, torn between the instinct to help her and the overwhelming urge to flee. But as the weight of my emotions threatens to overwhelm me, I find myself unable to do anything but mumble a hasty apology before turning away.

With each hurried step, I feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. The corridor stretches endlessly before me, a cruel reminder of the distance I must traverse to reach the sanctuary of my car. As I finally break into a run, the echoes of my own footsteps reverberating against the walls, I can only hope to contain the storm raging within me until I’ve reached the safety of solitude.

_____

As I continue to grapple with the aftermath of our heated argument, the weight of guilt and regret hangs heavy upon my shoulders. Each voicemail message left for Dalton feels like a futile attempt to bridge the chasm between us, a desperate plea for forgiveness and reconciliation.

But today is different. Today, I’ve taken action to show Dalton that I’m committed to making amends and proving that I can be better. 

I’ve scheduled an MRI appointment with a brain specialist, hoping to shed light on the fog that has clouded my mind for far too long. 

I’ve already informed Dalton of this on one of the countless voicemails, but I feel compelled to tell him in person, to see the flicker of hope in his eyes, as I promise to make things right or at least wholeheartedly try. And so, with a mixture of trepidation and hope, I find myself driving to his college, the anticipation building with each passing mile.

Yet, as I approach the college campus, a part of my mind wanders to the chance encounter with the beautiful young woman from earlier. 

Despite my desperate need to seek forgiveness from Dalton, a small voice whispers in the back of my mind, urging me to seek her out and offer a belated apology for my clumsy actions.

With a conflicted heart, I push aside the distraction and focus on the task at hand. Today is about Dalton, about salvaging what’s left of our fractured relationship and rebuilding the trust that my shortcomings have shattered. 

As Dalton opens the door with a look of confusion, I offer him a tentative smile, my heart pounding in my chest with anticipation. “Hey,” I begin, my voice tinged with nervousness. “Sorry for the surprise visit. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by and talk to Dalton.”

I glance around the room, taking note of Dalton’s company - a mix of relief and apprehension swirling within me as I spot Chris, his temporary roommate, and her.

With a quick clearing of my throat, I introduce myself, a faint blush colouring my cheeks as our eyes meet. “I’m Josh, by the way.” 

Lost in a trance of admiration, I find myself unable to tear my gaze away from her. Drawn to her like a moth to a flame, I absorb every detail as if I’ve been starved for her presence. 

My eyes wander over her captivating face, drawn to her sparkling eyes, flawless skin, and perfectly formed features  -  her nose and lips, all wonderfully sculpted. The way her clothing hugs her curves seems almost tailored for her, accentuating her figure in all the right places.

As my mind wanders, consumed by the intoxicating fantasy of her, I can’t help but entertain forbidden thoughts. What would she taste like? Would she arch her back in pleasure if I were to kiss her neck? The mere notion sent a surge of heat coursing through my veins, igniting a fire within me that I struggled to contain.

A pang of self-awareness cuts through my reverie as I realise how fixated I’ve become, my thoughts echoing with a tinge of self-consciousness.

God, I sound like a teenager, I chide myself internally, desperately hoping that no one else has noticed the intensity of my gaze. The last thing I want is for her or anyone else in the room to realise that I’ve been unabashedly ogling her.

My reverie is abruptly shattered by Chris, who stands beside her, purposefully clearing her throat. Startled out of my trance, I blink rapidly, my mind snapping back to reality with a jolt.

Feeling a surge of nervousness coursing through me, I wet my lips, which suddenly feel dry as desert sand. “Well, I should get going,” I mumble, my voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

As if drawn by an invisible force, my gaze flickers back to her once more, unable to resist stealing one last glance before I leave. “It was nice to meet you,” I add, the words coming out in a soft murmur laced with genuine sincerity and lingering apprehension.

With a quick nod and a hesitant smile, I turn to leave, the weight of uncertainty hanging heavy in the air around me. 

As I step out the door and close it behind me, a wave of self-doubt washes over me, leaving me feeling utterly foolish. It dawns on me that the beautiful young woman I had been so captivated by is not only a student but also, therefore, even younger than I had initially assumed. 

The realisation only serves to compound my embarrassment as I grapple with the absurdity of my infatuation.

But even more troubling is the fact that she is Dalton’s friend - my own son’s friend. 

Everything dictates that she is off-limits, yet a part of me hesitates to acknowledge that truth. The undeniable pull I feel towards her, the electric spark of connection that seemed to flicker between us, refuses to be dismissed so easily.

With a heavy sigh, I berate myself for entertaining such foolish thoughts, for allowing myself to be swept away by a fantasy that can never be. I remind myself of the boundaries that must be respected, the lines that cannot be crossed. And yet, even as I chastise myself, a small voice within me whispers of the undeniable allure of the forbidden, tempting me to entertain the possibility of something more.

_____

The next time I encounter her, I exit from Dalton’s dormitory, stepping out into the openness of the day. The day’s warmth embraces me as I inhale deeply, savouring the sensation of freedom after being confined indoors.

Her soft voice cuts through the air, calling out my name with a touch of warmth that fills me with a sense of unexpected delight, “Hey Josh!”

Turning towards her, I’m greeted by her radiant smile, reflecting the genuine joy she feels at our chance encounter.

Without hesitation, I mirror her bright expression, instinctively returning her smile with equal enthusiasm. “Hey,” I respond warmly, the words flowing effortlessly from my lips. It’s nice to see you again.”

As my gaze sweeps over her form, I’m struck once again by her beauty, her figure accentuated by the snug fit of her clothing. From the gentle curve of her shoulders to the graceful line of her waist, every detail seems to beckon me, drawing me in with an irresistible magnetism.

Despite my efforts to maintain composure, my eyes linger for a moment longer than necessary on the neckline of her tight shirt, drawn irresistibly to the allure of her form.

“I’m sorry for running you over when we first met,” I begin, my voice tinged with genuine remorse as I scratch nervously at the hair on the back of my head. “Or at least for just walking away and not helping you up again.” The words spill out of me in a rush, fueled by the sincere desire to make amends for my past actions.

In response, she reaches out and places her hand on my forearm, the contact sending a subtle jolt of electricity racing through me. For a moment, I’m rendered speechless, my senses overwhelmed by the warmth of her touch and the intensity of our connection.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, I reach out and cover her hand with my own, marvelling at the stark contrast between the size of my hand and the delicate fragility of hers. Her touch feels like a lifeline, anchoring me in the present moment as I struggle to navigate the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.

As if guided by some unseen force, I intertwine our fingers.

With each gentle stroke of my thumb against the back of her hand, I feel the tension between us easing, replaced by a quiet sense of comfort and belonging.

In that suspended moment, it feels as though time itself has halted, leaving us both entangled in a mesmerising trance. We stand there, locked in a silent exchange, our gazes intertwined in a dance of unspoken understanding and longing.

Driven by an instinct I can’t quite comprehend, I move closer to her, drawn in by the magnetic pull of her presence. As I do, her intoxicating scent envelops me like a comforting embrace, filling my senses with a heady mix of freshness and floral sweetness.

 I’m captivated by the sight of her, illuminated by the golden glow of the sunlight, her eyes sparkling with an inner light, and her skin luminous with a soft, radiant beauty.

But the spell is abruptly shattered when someone bumps into me, inadvertently jolting me back to reality with a sudden start - my mind finally catching up to what I’ve been doing and what we’ve been doing. 

With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly allow my hand to fall away from hers, stepping back from her as if to create a physical distance between us.

“I - ” I begin, my voice faltering slightly as I clear my throat. The remnants of our charged moment still linger in the air between us. “I should get going.”

With a sense of regret tugging at my heart, I tear my gaze away from her, unable to linger any longer. As I turn to leave, a part of me lingers in that moment, reluctant to let go of the fleeting connection we’ve shared. But I know that it’s the right thing to do. 

_____

The weight of the unresolved tension between Dalton’s friend and me casts a shadow over my thoughts, a constant presence that I cannot shake. 

Despite my best efforts to forget her, I find myself making frequent stops at the college, each visit accompanied by a faint glimmer of hope that I might catch a glimpse of her once more.

It’s a charade, really - a facade of repairing my strained relationship with my son, Dalton, that I maintain for the benefit of those around me. Even my ex-wife, Dalton’s mother, seems impressed by my newfound dedication to bridging the gap between us. 

But deep down, I know the real reason for my frequent visits - I long to see her again. 

Yet, each time I stop by Dalton’s dorm room or pick him up for an outing, she’s conspicuously absent.

Part of me wonders if she’s deliberately avoiding me, perhaps sensing the undeniable attraction that simmers beneath the surface. And yet, despite the rationality of her actions, I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at her absence.

In my desperation to see her again, to confront the feelings that have been gnawing at me from within, I find myself entertaining reckless thoughts. 

Maybe, I think, she’s the reasonable one of the two of us, choosing to distance herself for the sake of decency. 

After all, our connection is fraught with complications, from the difference in our ages to the delicate balance of friendships and familial relationships. But another part - the part that’s consumed by longing and desire - yearns for the chance to reconnect, to even broach the subject of what has been weighing on my mind.

But I can’t deny the pull I feel towards her, the undeniable attraction that lingers between us.

So, I find myself grappling with conflicting emotions as I contemplate the possibility of reaching out to her if only to ease the ache in my heart and find some semblance of closure.

And that’s why I’m currently in Dalton’s room, the minutes ticking by in agonising slowness.

And then, as if on cue, the door swings open, but it isn’t Dalton who greets me - it’s her.

My heart skips a beat as I drink in the sight of her, the details of her appearance etched into my mind like a cherished memory. From the way, the sunlight catches the subtle highlights in her hair to the soft curve of her lips.

“I didn’t expect you here,” she says, her voice tinged with surprise and something else - something that I can’t quite decipher. 

For a moment, neither of us speaks, the air heavy with anticipation and unspoken words. And then, with a newfound sense of resolve, I find my voice.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” the words escape my lips before I can stop them, the accusation hanging in the air between us. I watch her closely, searching for any hint of a response in the depths of her gaze.

Silence stretches between us; the only sound is the steady rhythm of our breaths, which is audible. And then, without a word, she steps closer to me, her movement like a silent invitation that I can’t ignore.

With a sense of determination coursing through me, I close the remaining distance between us, the space between our bodies narrowing until barely a breath separates us. I reach out, my hand coming to rest on the door beside her head, the warmth of her presence seeping into my skin.

With a swift, fluid motion, I push the door closed, the sound of it clicking shut echoing loudly in the room. 

Her gaze holds mine captive, her eyes like beacons drawing me in, and I cannot look away. It’s as if she’s cast a spell over me, trapping me in her irresistible allure and leaving me powerless to resist.

Time seems to stand still in our embrace, enveloping us in a cocoon of blissful silence. The world outside fades into insignificance as I lose myself in her presence, my senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating allure of her nearness. I can feel the weight of her gaze upon me, her breath growing heavier with each passing moment, mirroring the surge of desire that courses through my veins.

She’s enchanting beyond words, and every fibre of my being yearns to surrender to the allure of her touch. But even as I revel in the euphoria of the moment, a voice of reason whispers in the depths of my mind, reminding me of the consequences of indulging in this forbidden attraction.

“Tell me to stop... tell me to walk away,” I murmur, my words barely more than a breathless plea. I need her to reject me, to push me away and spare us both from the inevitable heartache that awaits if we give in to temptation.

But her response shatters my resolve. Her voice is soft and full of longing as she whispers, “Kiss me.” It’s a command I can’t resist, a siren’s call that beckons me closer, drawing me into her irresistible embrace.

Without hesitation, I lean in, my lips meeting hers in a fervent kiss that ignites a firestorm of desire between us. It’s urgent and consuming, as if we’ve both been waiting for this moment. My hand rises to cup her cheek, savouring the warmth of her skin beneath my touch.

For a fleeting instant, I hope she’ll pull away, that she’ll realise the folly of our actions and put an end to this madness. But instead, she draws me closer, her hands finding purchase on my shoulders as she presses her body against mine.

I break the kiss reluctantly, my body buzzing with desire as I meet her gaze with a mixture of longing and disbelief. 

“Fuck,” I whisper hoarsely, my voice laced with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

The smile that graces her lips sends a surge of warmth coursing through me - it’s enough to make me taste and kiss her and never let her go. 

So I do just that, and with each open-mouthed kiss I press to her jawline, I can feel the tension building between us, a palpable electric charge that crackles in the air.

“Well, I have an idea,” her voice is breathy, her words barely more than a whisper, but they send shivers down my spine. It’s clear that she’s just as affected by this intoxicating connection as I am.

My hands instinctively find their way into her soft hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as I pull her closer. “Yeah, tell me,” I murmur, my voice husky with desire.

Capturing her bottom lip between my teeth, I bite down softly, eliciting a breathy gasp of my name from her lips. Encouraged by her response, I trail kisses along her jawline, savouring the taste of her skin against my lips.

Her soft whimpers and heavy breathing only fuel my desire, urging me onward as I continue to explore her neck with fervent kisses. When I suck a mark into the tender flesh of her neck, her moan sends a jolt of arousal coursing through me as I feel my cock hardening.

As her fingers dig into my shoulders, I groan softly, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

With a sense of urgency, she lets her hands roam over my back, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. And when she lifts the hem of my shirt, slipping her hands beneath the fabric, I can’t suppress the loud groan that escapes my lips.

Desperate to show her what she does to me, I press my hips against her, making her feel my hard dick.

But as she begins to grind against me, igniting a primal need that demands to be satisfied, I force myself to pull back. The momentary respite allows me to regain some semblance of control, my gaze flickering down to the delicate straps of her dress.

I swallow heavily, my mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and desires. On one hand, I know that crossing this line could have serious repercussions, threatening to shatter the fragile balance of our lives. But on the other hand, the intoxicating allure of her touch is impossible to resist.

When she pushes against me once more, her movements driving me to the brink of madness, I find myself unable to resist any longer. With trembling fingers, I slip beneath the straps of her dress, a silent acknowledgement of the choice we’re both making now.

As the fabric falls away, exposing the soft curves of her skin to my hungry gaze, I know there’s no turning back. 

I feel my cock getting even harder when I see her perky, bare tits. A quiet groan escapes my lips as I look at them - perfect, round, and inviting to touch.

As I reach out, my fingers trembling with anticipation, I gently run the pad of my thumb over her nipple, watching as it hardens under my touch.

Deliberately, almost teasingly, I trace patterns across her chest, my touch growing bolder with each passing moment. I revel in the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips and the way she responds to my caress with soft gasps and sighs of pleasure.

As I flick my fingers against her hardened nipples, her breathy moans drive me wild with desire. With each tug and roll of her tit, I can feel the tension building between us.

My exploration of her chest continues, my lips trailing a path of kisses along her collarbones. I nibble and suckle on the tender flesh, leaving a trail of marks in my wake. Some primal part of me yearns to mark her as my own, to leave a tangible reminder of our shared passion.

Through the haze of desire that clouds my mind, I can sense her frantic need for me, her hands clutching at my belt loops as she pulls me closer. The sensation of her grinding against my cock sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through my veins, making me groan in response.

I pull back slightly, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I try to regain some semblance of control.

Despite the offence evident in her expression, I can’t help but feel a rush of amusement bubbling up inside me. With a smirk playing at the corners of my lips, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close once more as I press my lips against hers in a hungry kiss.

With a soft groan, I press my thigh between her legs, feeling the heat of her clothed cunt against my leg. The friction elicits a moan from her lips, confirming that she enjoys the sensation as much as I do.

Her hands are frantic as she breaks the kiss to undo my belt and jeans, her fingers fumbling in her haste. I watch with anticipation as my jeans fall to the floor with a soft thud, my hard cock straining against the fabric of my underwear in anticipation of her touch.

Even as my arousal pulses through me, I can’t help but feel a twinge of self-consciousness as she eyes me with hunger. I know I’m not as young as I used to be, my body bearing the marks of age and experience. But all doubts vanish as her fingertips trail over my chest and stomach, with nothing but appreciation and desire in her gaze.

I find myself struggling to contain the rising tide of desire that threatens to overwhelm me, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I allow her to explore my body at her own pace. 

But when her hand cups my hard cock through my underwear, all semblance of restraint vanishes in an instant. 

With a deep, guttural groan, I can no longer hold back, wrapping my arms around her and lifting her as I crush my lips against hers.

Biting down on her lip again, I relish the way she whimpers into my mouth, her body responding eagerly to my touch. I feel a surge of desire as I run my fingers over the soft flesh of her ass, prompting her to wrap her legs around my middle in a desperate embrace.

My mind is clouded with desire as I scan the room for a suitable surface, my gaze landing on the desk in the centre of the room.

In one fluid motion, I set her down on it, sweeping aside books and other belongings to make room.

I’m intoxicated by her presence, too lost in the haze of desire to care about anything else. Slotting myself between her legs, I tangle my hand in her hair, pulling her head back to meet my gaze. The way her breath quickens and her eyes darken with desire tells me she’s just as eager as I am.

But even amid our heated passion, a small voice of reason whispers in the back of my mind. With a ragged breath, I remind her of the importance of consent, my words heavy with sincerity.

“If you want to stop - at any point - you tell me,” I say, my voice filled with urgency and concern, a silent plea for her to acknowledge the gravity of our actions.

Her silent nod is all the confirmation I need as I gaze into her eyes, mesmerised by the raw desire burning within them. Her eyes are blown wide and on me, her lips pink and swollen, and I think I have never seen anything more beautiful. And I just know that I will never be able to stop craving her. 

I press a quick, fervent kiss to her lips, my hands deftly hitching her dress up higher, revealing more of her enticing curves.

My fingers find their way between her legs, tracing over the fabric of her panties. The heat and wetness that greets me nearly drives me over the edge, a primal growl rumbling in the depths of my throat.

As I drag my finger through her slit, teasing her clit. Her response is immediate and intense, her back arching into my touch as she lets out a breathless moan of pleasure. Encouraged by her reaction, I repeat the motion, feeling her nails scrape against my back in a deliciously sharp sensation.

The thought of bearing the marks of her touch for days to come only adds to the intensity of the moment, fueling my desire to be inside her. With a low, guttural moan, I press closer to her, my cock throbbing with need as I long to be enveloped by her warmth.

But I know that I have to make this good for her and prepare her before I take her. So I seat myself between her thighs, yanking her ass over the edge of the desk as I pull down her panties. 

Wrapping my hands around her thighs, I hold her open, exposing her pink, glistening pussy to my hungry gaze. The sight alone makes my mouth water in anticipation of tasting her sweetness.

She looks absolutely irresistible, and the sight of her arousal sends a shiver down my spine. Unable to resist any longer, I lean in and press a kiss to her clit, relishing in the taste of her as I swirl my tongue around it.

A low groan escapes me as I feel her shudder beneath me in response to my touch and cry out.

Pulling back slightly, I meet her gaze with a sense of urgency, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I speak. “You need to be quiet, sweetheart,” I murmur, my voice laced with a hint of warning. “Wouldn’t want anyone to come in here, right?”

She nods in response, her eyes wide with desire and her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Though I can see the struggle in her eyes, I know she’ll do her best to remain silent. As much as I want to hear her, we can’t afford to be caught in such a compromising position.

I lean down again, my palm pressing firmly against her stomach to hold her down as I lick a wide stripe over her cunt, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from her lips.

With each lick and suck, I explore her pussy, eager to discover what drives her wild and sends her over the edge. Her reactions are nothing short of intoxicating - the way her back arches off the desk and her hips buck against my mouth, seeking more of the pleasure I’m giving her.

The wood beneath her is already stained dark from her arousal. 

I revel in the feeling of her tightness around my fingers as I push them deeper inside her, curling them just right to send her spiralling towards ecstasy.

When she clenches around my tongue and bucks her hips, I know she’s on the brink of orgasm. With a sense of urgency, I pull her even closer, attaching my mouth to her clit and sucking hard while thrusting my fingers into her wet heat. 

The sensation of her spasming around my fingers only serves to heighten my arousal, my cock throbbing in response.

Before long, she’s cumming hard, her screams of pleasure filling the room as her body tenses and spasms in release. I continue to drink her greedily, relishing in the taste of her as she rides out her orgasm.

Only when she whimpers, clearly overstimulated, do I finally pull back, a satisfied smile on my lips as I take in her flushed appearance. She lays there, spread out and open, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her eyes glazed with pleasure.

With her fingers digging into my shoulders, I rise to my feet, my knees protesting as I pull her close and capture her lips in a hungry kiss.

I press my hard, clothed cock against her cunt, relishing the sensation of her grinding down on it. A deep groan escapes me as I feel her heat against me.

As our lips meet, her hand slips into my briefs, wrapping around my aching dick. I can’t help but buck my hips involuntarily at her touch, the warmth of her hand sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

With a sense of relief, she pushes down my underwear, freeing my throbbing cock. I watch as her hungry gaze fixates on it, her hand reaching out once more, enveloping me in warmth and pressure.

Another groan escapes me as she pumps my shaft once, the sensation driving me wild with desire. I ache to take her then and there, to lose myself in the heat of her body.

But when I see her intentions to slip down the desk, I place a firm hand on her thigh, gripping it tightly. My voice, husky with desire, cuts through the haze of lust as I speak, “You can return the favour next time. We have to be quick.”

I hope there will be a next time, and by how she looks at me, I can tell she feels the same.

I wrap my arms around her again, stealing another passionate kiss before lifting her off the desk. I refuse to fuck her on such a shoddy surface - she deserves the comfort of a bed. With purposeful strides, I walk us both over to the bed in the room, gently laying her down on her back.

With a hunger in my eyes, I lower myself on top of her, bracing my weight on my elbows as I hover over her. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, trailing hot kisses along her pulse point, savouring the intoxicating taste of her skin.

Feeling her soft body pressed against mine, I revel in the sensation as she pulls me even closer to her.

Her voice, wrecked and hoarse with need, sends shivers down my spine as she pleads, “Fuck me, please.”

With a low growl of approval, I press my lips to hers once more.

I grip my throbbing shaft firmly, guiding it against her slick folds. With deliberate care, I tease her entrance, tracing the outline of her slit and nudging her sensitive clit, eliciting a whimper from her – I need to ensure she’s ready for what’s to come.

Slowly and deliberately, I push just the tip of my cock inside her, feeling her tightness enveloping me. I pause, allowing her to adjust to the sensation, relishing in the heat and tightness of her depths.

Her impatience is evident as she whispers, “Josh, please.”

With a deep breath, I begin to inch my cock further into her with short, shallow thrusts. I keep my eyes locked on hers, gauging her reaction and ensuring her comfort with each movement. My own breathing becomes ragged as I feel her clenching and bucking against me, her arousal evident in every movement.

When her eyes flutter closed in ecstasy, I stop and wrap my hand around her throat, wanting her to look at me as I take her. With one final, deliberate thrust, I bury myself deep inside her, relishing in the sensation of her tightness around me.

“Just like that,” I whisper, “You’re doing so well”, feeling her clenching around me in response. At this moment, I know she’s ready – and I won’t be holding back.

She whimpers when I pull back, leaving only the tip of my cock inside her, craving more of the fullness I provide. Then, with a primal need, I slam my entire length back into her, eliciting a loud moan from her lips. Each thrust feels like I’m carving a pathway into her pussy, her slick walls parting before the force of my cock.

Her moans grow louder as I fuck her relentlessly, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. The noises spur me on, driving me to fuck her harder and deeper. I can feel my balls slapping against her with every rough and hard thrust, the sensation driving me wild.

Feeling myself getting closer to the edge, I reach down and begin to rub my thumb over her clit, eliciting an immediate and intense reaction from her. She loses herself even further beneath me, her movements becoming more frantic as she clutches at the sheets as she clenches, bucks and whimpers.

With one particularly rough thrust, she shatters around me, her screams filling the room. I register her loudness, so I crush my mouth against hers in a rough kiss, muffling the sound as I continue to pound into her.

As my climax approaches, I push myself as deep as possible inside her before I tip over the edge, ensuring every last drop of my cum will be inside her. With a loud groan, I release inside her pussy, filling her up.

I kiss her passionately as I use her cunt to milk myself dry, ensuring that every last drop of my cum fills her completely.

I push the damp hair from her face as we both catch our breath. With a lazy tenderness, I press my lips against hers, savouring the softness of her touch as her hands weave through my hair, eliciting a contented sigh from deep within me.

As we lie there, I feel my cock softening inside her cunt, and I’m completely content in this moment of intimacy with her. 

But our blissful reverie is abruptly interrupted by her urgent voice piercing the air. “Shit, Josh. Get up,” she exclaims, her words tinged with a hint of panic.

Panic floods through me at her words, my first thought being that she regrets what just happened. However, when I notice her gaze fixed on her cunt, that’s gaping a bit and leaking my cum onto the bed, I realise the true reason for her urgency - We’ve just had sex in my son’s dorm room, and we’ve completely ruined the bed.

A soft chuckle escapes my lips, the tension evaporating as I lean in to kiss her again. It’s a silent reassurance that we’ll navigate this situation together. 

“It will be fine,” I whisper against her lips, my voice laced with reassurance.

Her bright eyes meet mine, wide and filled with warmth, as I gently trace her lips with my thumb. “Let’s get cleaned up first. And then I’d like to take you out for some food,” I suggest, eager to prolong our time together beyond the confines of this moment.

“Yeah… yeah, I’d like that,” her voice is soft, barely audible in the room, yet her beautiful face radiates a smile that fills me with warmth. In that fleeting moment, I realise that this is not merely a one-time occurrence. It’s a beginning, a promise of something more profound and meaningful. And as I gaze upon her, basking in the glow of her happiness, I silently vow to do whatever it takes to keep that smile on her face.

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S2.Ch01: Wake Up

Summary: Everything comes to a screeching halt... Referenced Episodes: S1 E22 "Devil's Trap," S2 E01 "In My Time of Dying" CW: Hospital, references to sustained injuries. Word Count: 4718. Recommended Song: Amazing -- Aerosmith Season One -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

My eyes fluttered, my head spun, ears filled with an intense ringing that I couldn't shake no matter how much I tried. I blinked, eyes filled with molten gold, the hospital lights twisting and cascading like falling diamonds. My hands roamed over my arms until I found the IV and wrenched it from my arm. I scrabbled at my fingertips and finally yanked the pulse monitor away. The screen beside me flatlined, blaring a warning signal that had me clutching my head in my hands.

A commotion came from the hallway as I slipped my legs over the edge of the bed, toes touching the bare, cold floor. I winced and stood, gripping the wall until everything stopped spinning. On shaky legs, I stumbled towards the door and reached for the handle, only to have it thrown open.

"Ma'am!" a nurse shouted, sighing in relief, and slipping her hand under my upper arm. "Ma'am you need to get back in bed- your condition isn't stable."

"Where's Dean?" I asked, voice raw and scratchy. I shrugged her off and took another step towards the door, only to be blocked by a gaggle of nurses.

"Miss, please!" another pled, her dainty hands sliding under my arms and holding me upright. "You need to get back to bed-"

"Get off of me!" I snapped, wrenching my arm from the nurse's grip. "Where’s Dean?" I snarled, eyes blazing like headlights in a dark tunnel. Hands gripped at my gown, attempting to pull me back.

I stumbled through the doorway, pushing past the throng of nurses and around the crash cart. The nurses were shouting now and coaxing others to them in an attempt to pull me back. A doctor's hands gripped me around the waist, dragging me back. I screamed and thrashed in his grip.

"Dean!" I screamed. "Get away from me! I need to find Dean!" I thrashed, lifting my feet in the air, kicking, flailing, and hitting whatever I could make contact with. The nurses began shouting, calling for help, and sedatives, too which I only screamed louder.

"Dean!!" I screamed and twisted in the man's grip, pushing myself from his arms until my feet hit the floor. He and another nurse gripped my arms and pulled my back, yanking me towards the doorway. "Sam! John!!" I screamed, and snarled, teeth elongating and sharpening before I could stop them. Panic gripped my lungs, squeezing the oxygen out, and for a split second, I thought my heart would give out. I threw my head back and screamed, kicking, punching, and hoping to God I didn't hurt anyone too badly. I had to find Dean.

A familiar scent drifted down the hallway, one of old books and leather, and I screamed louder, pulling myself away from the nurses and sprinting down the hallway with them hot on my heels. I skidded along the floor and collided with what I could only describe as a brick wall that quickly wrapped its arms around me and hoisted me to my feet.

"Sam, where's Dean?" I snapped, dripping the collar of his jacket. He sputtered and glanced at my shoulder at the handful of doctors and nurses racing after me, surely wondering how I had moved so fast. "Where is he!?"

"Four down, on the left," he sputtered out, pointing over his shoulder, and releasing his grip on me. Before he could blink, I was off again, tearing down the hall until my palms made contact with the door. I pulled myself to a sliding stop and wrenched the door open, cool metal burning my boiling skin.

I threw the door open and slipped into the room, slamming the door shut before the nurses had even made it down the hallway. I breathed a sigh of relief and rested my head against the wood, taking a deep breath, then spun to face Dean.

What I saw brought me to my knees. I collapsed, my legs refusing to hold my weight and giving out beneath me. My hands flew to my mouth and tears filled my eyes.

He was a mess, limp across the bed like a puppet without strings. His heart rate monitor beeped slowly every few seconds, the only sound in the room aside from the oxygen flowing into his lungs. He was intubated, a mask adorning his handsome features.

"Dean...?" I questioned, reaching to grip the door handle and pull myself to my feet. I half expected him to wrench the tube from his throat and respond, turning his green eyes to meet mine. I choked back a sob when he didn't move.

I stumbled across the floor, feet slipping across the linoleum. I dropped to the side of the bed and gripped his larger hand in my own, not caring that my tears were dripping onto his freckled skin. My fingers trailed over his palm until they laced with his, gripping his hand as if it was my lifeline.

The sounds of murmuring voices in the hall fell on deaf ears. I knew Sam was talking with the nurses, but I didn't care. I tightened my grip on his hand and buried my face in his side, tears staining the thin hospital blanket.

It was my fault, right? It had to be. I was the one helping him, stemming the flow of blood. I hadn't gotten to him fast enough, hadn't shielded him enough from the crash. I hadn't done something right, and now here he was, limp on a bed, covered in bandages and new scars.

I sobbed and buried my face into my elbow, tears soaking into the thin, cotton hospital shirt I wore, cascading over my thighs like a shorter dress. The long shirt was open on the back, and a shiver crawled down my spine, like icy fingers dragging down my back. I was thankful for the heavier cotton pants that adorned my legs and kept my lower half warm.

The door to Dean's hospital room creaked open and Sam's familiar scent flooded the room. I refused to lift my head and instead curled into a tighter ball; my ribs were uncomfortably pressed into the side of the bed.

"How long have we been here?" I choked out, voice hoarse with tears. Sam's footsteps halted and I could feel his gaze running over my bare back, hazel eyes filled with worry.

"Almost two days now," he muttered and leaned against the wall. "We were Life Flighted over here–we're not too far from Bobby's. 'Bout an hour's drive." He sighed and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I got discharged yesterday. I've been checking in on you three pretty frequently."

My breathing stuttered as I struggled not to gasp for breath. My sobbing was beginning to take a toll. I lifted my head and wiped my cheeks, eyes red, puffy, and swollen, and hair a mess. I didn't care.

"What happened?" I asked, meeting Sam's eyes. His gaze flitted to Dean's and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the door once more slipping open.

A doctor strolled in, his eyes glued to a clipboard and a pen in hand. "Your father is awake. You can go see him if you'd like." His gaze lifted to meet Sam's and then flickered to mine, surprise decorating his dark irises. "So, this is where you disappeared to," he spoke softly, regarding me with kind eyes. "The nurses were wondering where you had gone off too."

I scoffed and slipped my hand from Dean's, stretching my legs out in front of me with my arms folded over my chest. Where else would I have gone? I frowned at my own thoughts, knowing the doctor couldn't possibly know of my attachment to Dean. I wondered what lie Sam had come up with to cover for us.

"Doc, what about my brother?" Sam questioned, focusing his gaze on the shorter man. "Is he going to be alright?"

The doctor sighed and dropped his eyes to his clipboard, a look of hopelessness on his features. He wasn't even trying to hide it. "Well, he's sustained serious injuries: blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There are early signs of cerebral edema."

I winced, wishing I understood more of this medical jargon. All I knew was that it wasn't good, which had already been made obvious enough. The wires and machines attached to Dean didn't exactly hide his condition.

"What can we do?" Sam pressed, growing increasingly more upset with each word the doctor uttered. He couldn't lose his brother, not like this.

"Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up- if he wakes up," the doctor replied. My heart fluttered and my lungs squeezed. I couldn't breathe, and once again the room was spinning, molten gold rising in my irises.

"What do you mean 'if '?" I demanded, voice icy and every muscle in my body tensing. The doctor's eyes flitted to mine and he looked startled by the sudden change of color, from their normal to a subdued gold.

"Most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations," he responded, uncertainty dripping into his voice as he took in my angered expression.

"Realistic expectations, my ass," I spat, dragging myself to my feet. I pushed past the doctor and made my way back to my room. An odd chill filled the air and I couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching me as I strode down the hallway.

---

"We'd like you to stay overnight for observation. Your condition isn't stable quite yet, and we'd like to make sure your head trauma doesn't cause you any problems at night," the nurse stated, eyes scanning over the clipboard at the foot of my bed.

I said nothing, eyes glued to the window and the sky outside that was rapidly darkening, the pink tint of the sunset having long ago faded, the dawning stars obscured by clouds. "Ma'am?" the nurse questioned, lifting her head to scan my battered features. "Are you listening?"

"Yeah," I mumbled out, eyes never leaving the clean glass. Two days ago, I had witnessed a night much like this, and that had ended in pain and torment. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back a flood of tears. How could I call myself a hunter if I couldn't protect the person I cared for most? "Yeah, I'm listening."

The nurse sighed, pity dripping into her voice. She placed the clipboard on her lap and sat on the edge of the bed. "I need you to understand just how much damage you endured," she spoke softly, placing her hand on my leg that was tucked neatly beneath the blanket. "From what the doctors can tell, you've suffered a lot of physical trauma recently- not just the car crash. Your back and kidneys are bruised from the severe impact that they can only describe as being thrown across a room. Your ankle is a mess, and I'm not sure how you managed to get such intense bite marks there," she sighed again and ran her fingers through her blonde ponytail. "On top of that, there's some awful mauling along your back and leg from months ago that's still healing. Over all-" she took a deep breath, steeling herself for a cacophony of protests, "-I think you should stay for more than just the night. You're in bad shape, and it's our job to make sure you're alright."

I remained silent pondering her words with little attention. Perhaps I should stay, but I knew I couldn't. I needed to get back home soon and see my pack. They had to be worried.

A knock came from the door, jarring both the nurse and me, drawing our attention to Sam's tall figure taking up the majority of the entrance. The nurse sighed in defeat and stood, brushing off her clothes. "I suppose I'll leave you two alone," she mumbled and stepped out of the room.

Sam was quiet, eyes trained on mine. I dropped my gaze to my hands, clasped tightly in my lap. I hadn't realized just how bad my condition was, not until I took a closer look. Even my knuckles were bruised, and the skin was split and scabbed. I wouldn't be surprised if they were broken, and the painkillers had just kept me from noticing.

"So, what'd the nurse say?" Sam finally asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight and my hips slid slightly towards the edge. "Good or bad news?"

"She says I'm a mess, but we already knew that," I grumbled out and leaned forward, bracing my arms on my knees. "I've been told to stay overnight–she phrased it as an option, but I know it's not." Sam laughed at this and I cracked a weak smile, bumping him playfully in the arm. "I can be discharged tomorrow."

"That's good," he said softly, eyes roving over my backpack in the corner of the room. He had taken the time to empty the Impala of our belongings as soon as he was discharged and brought my bag back to me. "That means you can come with me to check out the car in the morning, right?"

I nodded and mustered a grin. "Of course. How bad's the damage?"

"Pretty bad," he grumbled and ran a hand through his hair, something I had noticed he often did when he was thinking deeply. It was a nervous tick, like Dean chewing on his fingernails. "Dean's not going to be too happy when he wakes up."

I fell silent, eyes unfocused and glazed. Despite the fact that I had slept for nearly two days, I was exhausted. I had so many thoughts running through my mind and had yet to really consider any of them. I worried my thoughts would become too dark to handle.

"I called your family," Sam said, leaning back on his elbows until his torso was hovering over my shins. "They were worried about you, you know. They all knew something was wrong." My eyes widened at this and I met his gaze with mixed confusion and elation.

"Did they say anything else?" I questioned. He looked puzzled as to what I meant and dropped his gaze when I didn't clarify. Truthfully, I was wondering if Caeden had experienced similar things to me. I had seen him in the darkness, and I couldn't help but contemplate whether he had seen me as well.

"No, they didn't say anything else," Sam replied. "But I do know Booth was on his way over here. Kept saying that 'someone needed to see you home now that you don't have that damn truck.' He was pretty insistent." He chuckled and turned his tired eyes to meet mine. "He should be here sometime tomorrow."

I nodded and swallowed dryly, knowing I was going to get an earful when I got home. Booth wasn't one to tolerate unnecessary risks, but I was sure he would understand the situation. Sasha on the other hand would be furious. She hated it whenever one of us got hurt – it drove her up the wall to know there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Sam tapped my shin and I jumped, meeting his eyes with a startled gaze. "It's getting late. You should get some sleep," he spoke. I frowned, knowing I couldn't hide my exhaustion from him – he would always be able to see right through my act. "I'll come get you in the morning-" he began and then quickly changed direction, "-or, we can wait for Booth if you want." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, fumbling over his words.

"We can figure that out in the morning," I murmured and leaned back against my pillow. "For now, you should head back to your motel room–don't want you getting back too late."

"Yeah," he whispered out. Sam stood on shaky legs and made his way slowly towards the door. He pressed the handle down and paused in thought, turning to look over his shoulder once more. "Listen, I..." he inhaled shakily. "Thanks for... looking out for Dean. I don't know what I'd do without him and- I think, without you there, he would've..."

"It's not a problem, Sam," I murmured back, flashing him a reassuring smile and hoping the looming darkness masked my worry and the wrenching feeling in my heart. "Dean- both of you are important to me."

Sam opened his mouth to say something else and then quickly changed his mind, nodding instead.

With that, he disappeared through the doorway, shutting the heavy door softly behind him. Despite his exit, the room still felt full, and for the first time in hours, I didn't feel lonely. It was odd, being alone and yet feeling comfort, as though I wasn't really alone.

I sighed softly and rolled onto my side and tried to ignore the aching in my ribs, left by the pummeling I had taken from the demon outside of Sunrise Apartments. That all seemed so long ago, although it was only... not quite three days ago? The last seven or eight days had been one nightmare after another, leaving me full of questions and insecurities.

I frowned and pulled the thin blanket to my chin, shivering at a chill that drifted through the room. Compared to the warmth of the darkness I had been submerged in only hours before, it was an icy, bitter chill that left me craving a warmth I couldn't attain.

I rolled onto my back restlessly and clenched my eyes shut, my racing as I struggled to quell the thoughts and questions that arose. All I wanted was to sleep, not question my very existence. An image of red eyes and pearlescent teeth flashed in my mind and my eyes snapped open, gold swimming in my formerly neutral irises.

What was that dark place? The silence there was deafening, terrifying even, and each experience left me more confused than the last. Each time I dreamt of that place, I came one step closer to understanding, and yet I was still so far.

What had the wolf meant when it said I wasn't where I belonged? Was the wolf even real or was it simply a figment of my imagination? I wondered if I would feel fur under my hands if I reached out to touch it. I shut my blazing eyes and tried to imagine its broad, brilliantly white face that contrasted with my midnight black fur.

Its fur had been so clearly defined, each strand like an individual ice crystal. Its eyes were as red as flaming coals, like fire lapping at fuel. There was no way something I dreamt up could be so startlingly beautiful, right? But there was no way such a creature could exist. Hell, the beast was even bigger than I was and must have easily been at eye level with Sam or Caeden.

I wondered if I could get back to that place on my own. Perhaps it was like a lucid dream; maybe I just needed to direct myself towards it in my sleep. I needed to figure out how to get back – I had so many questions, and it seemed the wolf may have the answers I needed. It was worth a shot.

I rolled onto my side and glanced up at the clock along the wall, just above the window, and was shocked to see the time. It was nearly one in the morning, several hours since Sam had left. Had I fallen asleep and not realized it? I blinked, thinking maybe I was seeing things. No, it really was early in the morning. It felt like I had sent Sam away only minutes before.

I sighed and sat up, running my fingers through my tangled hair. I was feeling restless, knowing that on a normal night I would be returning home soon after a late-night run. Perhaps a run was what I needed, but I couldn't risk it. Not in or around a hospital, nor could I jeopardize my health for such a frivolous thing. Instead, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, toes brushing over the cold linoleum.

A short walk couldn't hurt.

I padded softly down the hallway, trying my best not to wake the other patients. I chose to go in the opposite direction of Dean's room, roving the simply lit hallways like some sort of ghost. The lights cast on me left my shadow looking longer than usual, taking up most of the length of the hallway. It was an eerie feeling, and yet, it brought me an odd sense of peace.

The sound of distant tears caught my attention and I quickened my pace, jogging towards the sound. I ran down the dim halls, around corners and bends, into new wards, and passed nursing stations that gave me quizzical looks as I passed. Finally, I stopped in front of an oak door, a window beside it, the blinds lifted to allow sight into the room.

A woman lay on a bed, her dark hair stuck to her face, matted with sweat and tears. Several doctors stood around her, busying themselves with their equipment or muttering kind words to her.

In her arms sat a tightly wrapped bundle, a tiny squirming figure swaddled on the blankets. It was a newborn, a baby crying loudly and waving its red, pudgy hands high in the air.

I watched, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the woman pulled her newborn baby closer to her, tears of joy and relief slipping down her cheeks. This was a maternity ward, and she was a new mother.

The sound of footsteps approached from behind, and I felt a presence move to stand beside my shoulder. With awestruck eyes, I turned to face the figure at my side, taking in the countenance of a very tired old man. His eyes were crinkled around the edges, as though he had spent most of the night, and certainly, the majority of his life, smiling.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" he spoke, his voice tired and soft, well-worn with age. "How in one room there's new life, and the next one over nothing but darkness. Hospitals are..." he shook his head in amazement and his eyes returned to the woman. She looked up with tired brown eyes and waved weakly to him. He smiled and waved back, pressing his fingertips to the glass.

"That's my daughter, you know," he murmured, a proud look adorning his deep brown eyes that so deeply matched hers. "I remember seeing that look on her mother's face, the night she was born. She looks so much like her mother..."

The man's gaze flitted from his daughter to my bewildered eyes, focused so intently on the swaddled life in her arms. "Do you have kids of your own?" he questioned.

I snapped out of my trance and shook my head, shutting my jaw tightly. What a mess I must have looked, standing in the maternity ward covered in bruises and scars talking to a man I didn't know. "No," I mumbled out. "No, I don't have any."

The man chuckled, his white hair contrasting with the dim lights in the hall so starkly. "That'll change soon," he murmured. I glanced at him with confusion and he laughed softly, tired voice velvety smooth. "I recognize that look in your eye–I had it too, once." He sighed, as if remembering a long-forgotten memory, daydreaming wistfully. "Who's the lucky man?" he questioned, voice full of certainty.

"There is no man," I whispered back, eyes meeting the woman and her swaddled bundle once again. The man's eyes met my profile and fell on my star-struck eyes before returning to his daughter's exhausted figure.

"Well, when you meet him, I hope he understands how lucky he is," he whispered out, flattening his palm against the glass in thought. "I know I didn't..." his face fell, reliving an old memory once more, one that left him feeling lonely and craving a warmth he could no longer have.

A doctor waved the old man forward, drawing both of our eyes to him. The man grinned ear to ear and shuffled around me, slipping into the room. He pressed a soft kiss to his daughter's forehead, standing over her exhausted form and teasing the fabric around the new bundle of life.

I blinked softly, taking in the happy scene before me. The man was right – it was amazing, the amount of life and death circulating in a hospital. I inhaled deeply and smiled at the new family, a collection of generations all with a common thread – life, and love. With one final glance at the family, I spun on my heels and padded down the hallway, unaware of the old man's eyes on my departing form.

This time, I strolled down the long hallways, the nurses never bothering to look up from their paperwork to investigate my unhurried gait. It wasn't long before I found myself back in my room, the door ajar just as I had left it. I stopped beside it, fingertips brushing over the oak wood in thought.

Before I could even form a coherent thought, I was traveling back down the corridor, fingers trailing along the smooth white walls. I turned the corner, counted the number of doors on the left side, and stopped in front of the fourth. The door to Dean's room was ajar, just as most critical patient's doors were. I breathed deeply and pushed the door open, light cascading into the dark room.

I had been holding out hope that he had improved, that maybe he was no longer intubated, or better yet, he was awake, and no one had informed me yet. Instead, I felt my heart sink into the pit of my stomach upon seeing his lifeless form lying limp on the bed with nothing but a few machines keeping him alive.

I pulled my arms tightly around me, shivering in the cold room and padding softly across the tile floor. The bed dipped under my weight and I sat beside Dean, leaning over him with tired eyes, my warm breath fanning his cheeks.

I opened my mouth to say something and found I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say or do now that I was here. What do you say to someone in this situation, when you weren't even sure if they could hear you? I decided against speaking and instead leaned my head against his chest, careful not to reopen his wounds.

The gentle beating of his heart was a comforting sound compared to the erratic pounding it had been just a few days before. The beating, although helped along by the many machines attached to him, proved that Dean was alive and fighting to come back to us.

I lifted my head and inhaled deeply, eyes roving over his freckled face. Despite the many bandages wrapped around his head and the mask over his mouth, he was still as handsome as ever. I wondered if he was dreaming at all, or if his coma consisted of total darkness. I hoped that if it was darkness, it was a peaceful darkness, unlike the darkness I was beginning to frequently experience.

I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his, drinking in the scent of cherries that still hung off him, despite the bleak smell of sterilization that clung to every surface in the hospital. Tentatively, I placed a hand on his cheek, swiping the pad of my thumb over his cheekbone in thought.

With a deep sigh, I lifted my head, my gaze falling to his closed eyes, hiding his brilliantly green irises from me. "Wake up soon, Winchester," I whispered and leaned forward, placing a gentle, lingering kiss on his forehead.

Face flushed and every part of my body cold from the lack of heat in the room, I stood and cast one last glance at Dean's comatose form before turning and leaving the room, unaware of the ghostly green eyes surveying my retreating form.

[ohworm-writes]

Burns

MCYT: c!Technoblade Boyfriend Scenario

mcyt masterlist

‼ c!Technoblade prompt: Reader gets hurt while exploring through the Nether, coming back wounded to their lover ‼

Featuring: c!Technoblade

Warnings: GORE, angst (?), mentions of injury, description of injury, mentions of blood, worried techno

[ 1.5k word count ]

a/n - i wanted to do a Techno work for a while, so i finally got around to doing it! enjoy the work! i’m horrible at doing endings if you couldn’t tell lol

content below the cut!

You happily made your way through the scorching confines of the Nether, checking your inventory to look at the loot you had gotten. You had been trading with piglins for hours, giving out one bar of gold after another in return for a wide array of items, a lot of which were useless to you.

You had traveled farther out than you anticipated, seeing nothing other than the dull shade of red from the netherack and the flow of lava around you. You had placed a few stray blocks to keep you on track, one of these landmarks more obvious than the others.

The nether-bricked fortress loomed over you as you passed through one of the arches. It didn't seem to have been looted yet, so you had saved the coordinates to it, planning to tell your boyfriend when you got back. Your footsteps echoed through the landscape as you made your way back, unaware of the group of 4 blazes that floated high above you.

You had been absentmindedly checking your inventory still, throwing out the near stacks of soul sand and quartz that had accumulated in your inventory when they started firing at you. You reacted a split second too late, overwhelmed by the searing pain in your arm.

Your clothing was starting to burn up as you erratically patted it down, now left with the skin painfully peeling off, your blood crisping and drying up around it. You screamed in pain as you set the fire out, tears welling up in your eyes at the sight if the injury.

Focusing on getting away, you made a dash towards one of the pillars, hiding behind it as the blazes shooting again at you. The fire caught at the netherack in front of you, fire crackling at your feet. You took a few frantic steps backward, your back meeting with the wall of nether brick.

Waiting a moment to catch your breath, you peered over the side to look at the blazes. They had gotten a bit closer, still looming high above you. You looked around you, spotting the nether portal to the tundra a few hundred blocks away. If you booked it, you could probably make it! But would the blazes catch you before you got there?

The sound of fire shooting resonated in your ears, making you jump back behind the pillar. The fire caught on the netherack, much further away than the last shot. You moved your shoulder a bit, crying out in pain at the intensity of your injury. You held your arm against your chest, clutching it tightly.

You decided it was now or never, breaking into a sprint towards the portal. You heard the fire shooting again, but you couldn't risk slowing down. Sweat ran down your back as your feet collided with the soft netherack under them. The vibration from your footsteps shot up through your arm, making you scream as you pushed forward.

The portal was much closer now, and you didn't hear the shots of blazes. You couldn't risk looking back, so you continued to run. The obsidian pathway felt hard under your feet, in contrast to the softer feeling of netherack. You slowed your pace, adrenaline draining as you stumbled through the portal.

When you came through the other side, you were met with the calm winds of the arctic. You fell to your feet, the pain becoming almost unbearable. You laid your back against the portal, finally deciding to take a better look at your wound.

The entirety of your left arm, from your shoulder to your elbow, was burnt. A large portion of your top was burnt too. Raw skin peeked out from under the burnt portions, red and blotchy. There wasn't much blood, to your relief. Your entire arm still felt like it was burning, searing in pain.

You had to get back to the cabin. That was your goal. Get back to the cabin. You shakily stood up, stumbling slightly as you made your way across the tundra. You held your arm close to your chest, wincing every time the wind blew against it and the vibrations that wracked through your body with every heavy step.

After what had felt like hours, the cabin was finally in sight. The sun was starting to set over the icy plains. You knew mobs would start spawning if you didn't hurry up. You stumbled your way towards the cabin, seeing how all of the lights were on in the place you called home.

When you finally reached the spruce doors. Before you could even reach for the handle, the doors swung open, revealing your piglin boyfriend with a worried expression on his face.

"Y/n! Where the hell have you be-" His eyes switched from concern to anger and settling on distress. He held your uninjured shoulder and ushered you inside, moving you to sit down on the couch that sat down in the center of the room.

He quickly started rifling through chests, not a word spoken as he did so. He pulled out a bottle of healing and regeneration, tucking them under his arm as he reached for gauze and a variety of antibiotics.

You watched him as he made his way from the chests over to where you sat. Your legs dangled off the front of the couch, your boyfriend situating himself between them as he took a better look at your arm. He took a short blade from his boot, cutting off your shirt carefully. He tossed it to the side, focusing his attention on your wound.

He pushed two potions into your chest, you could just feel the anger radiating off of him. It was scary. Without a word, you downed both of the potions, feeling the pain subside for the most part. You exhaled a deep breath you didn't know you were holding, shutting your eyes slowly.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?" His tone was firm, cold, anger dripping from it. You felt terrible, you knew his mind would be working overtime trying to find out a solution before you told him a worm. Your eyes opened slowly, a frown finding its way to your face.

"Blazes," you tell him softly. You saw as his shoulders became slightly relax, at least it wasn't a person who did this to you.

"Tech, love, it's really not that bad. Let me patch it up." Wrong choice of words. His eye twitched and his brows furrowed as he looked towards you. "Not that bad?! Y/n are you looking at it? Your entire upper arm is messed up!"

"I've seen worse on you." You wanted to try and deescalate the situation, but you knew it wasn't going to end up that way. "This isn't about my wounds, this is about yours! You aren't fine!" He yelled, worry filling his eyes as he started to focus on dressing your wound. He stood up, going towards the kitchen to grab a wet cloth.

"Tech-" He grumbled angrily as he drenched the cloth in water. You knew he was blaming himself, you knew the voices would be screaming at him. He settled himself in front of you again, eyes dark as he gently pushed the cloth against your wound, very contrasted to how tense he was.

Your breath hitched, your hand grabbing onto his tightly. He put all of his attention onto wrapping you up. He was completely silent during the whole process. By the end of it, you had a new shirt on, your arm settled comfortably in a sling.

When he was fully finished, he settled his palms on your knees, head down as he mumbled something. You brought your free hand up to his hair, gently coursing your fingers through it. "I could have prevented this," he said, just enough so you could hear him.

"Hey," you whispered, taking your hand out of his hair and moving it to his cheek. He leaned into your palm affectionately, casting his eyes upwards to meet yours. He didn't look angry anymore, his eyes were just filled with remorse.

"It's not your fault, please believe me when I say that." He hummed lowly, closing his eyes and melting into your touch. You stayed like that for a while, silently cupping his cheek. When he opened his eyes again, his arms moved off your knees and he sat up.

You cast him a confused look as he sat down next to you, resting his back on the armrest of the couch. He huffed, opening his arms as a welcoming for you. You chuckled softly, laying back into him and making sure you didn’t lay on your injured arm. 

You lay your head against his chest as he carefully wraps both of his arms around you. He hums again, the sound resonating through his chest. You let your eyes shut as you smile. You feel him press a kiss to your forehead as you let exhaustion take over.

[endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus]

New Year’s Eve Kiss w/The Lanes Characters

Silco, Sevika & Vi

This is a  special collab with my best friend - for Piltover’s Characters

The Last Drop is packed to the brim with residents from the Undercity. Rounds of beer and hard liquor are loosely passed about as clouds of smoke draped from the ceiling. 

Silco:

“To the Nation of Zuan! May great fortune bless upon us.” he drunkenly raised his crystal glass.

The man was a traditionalist and as every year passed he kept up with drinking his ass off in celebration.

One thing was different though; you. This was your first time being a part of the Zaun Community during New Years Eve.

It felt out of the ordinary for you to see him in this state, he normally was able to handle himself but you were warned beforehand that he took the Holidays very seriously.

The room chanted along to his words as he stood on the bar’s counter. He pointed to you in the crowd and gestured for you to join him.

Suddenly you were lifted up by his entourage and carried to your awaiting King.

Once you were in his arms he dramatically dipped you, capturing your lips with his in a heated kiss.

Sevika:

Holiday or not Sevika always managed to keep herself busy with something related to the almighty Son of Zaun.

She was tucked away in the darkest corner of the bar, keeping an eye out for anyone who decided to act out of pocket on her watch.

You snagged two beers from behind the counter and approached her; it was the least you could do, especially after all the times she’s rescued you.

“I’d have to charge you for this you know.” She winked and accepted the beverage, taking a big swig.

“Perhaps we can explore our options for payment.” You threw the ball back in her court; you two played a game of cat and mouse, exchanging flirty banter and devilish looks, definitely up to no good when you were together.

She gave a sly smirk and motioned for you to follow, leading you into the basement, “Well we can start with you carrying these boxes.” She set aside the beer bottle and lifted the cardboard with ease. You, of course trying hard to impress, bent down to pick up the box barely holding it and stacked it onto the one Sevika set down, “Consider this my reimbursement.“ 

She grinned, “Not quite, there is just one more thing..” You hadn’t realized but the space between you was slim, and with one step she was inches from your face. It caught you by surprise and when you backed up - your body met the brick wall. She placed her hand next to your head, “I say when your debt is settled.” She leaned in, kissing you with such power it felt like electricity was rushing through your veins; you needed more. 

Vi:

“There you are, I thought you had run off.” impatience got the best of Vi as she tapped her foot, just waiting to scold you when you returned. You were offended by her comment, “What? The line for the bathroom is really long. If it makes you feel better there was a water stain that looked just like you.” 

She rolled her eyes, trying to play off the smile that snuck up on her, “We only have a few minutes before the show starts, let’s get a move on.” Her hand gestured for you to shoo off.

“I think what I'm hearing is a race? One, two, three go!” You shouted as you got a jump start towards the staircase, you could hear Vi call out for you. 

You had to focus while going up the stairs, one missed step and you were tumbling down them so you decided to take it one by one and before you know it Vi has caught up to you, taking long strides up, “You really think you can challenge me? Ha!” 

She had beat you to the top but you were soon running side by side through the hallway, 

avoiding people walking by and furniture that you swear wasn’t there before. 

Your hands collided as you two reached for the door handle, you used your hip to push her out of the way but she managed to shoulder you aside.

The doors swung wide open and you two stepped out onto the balcony, chests heaving heavily and eyes locked in a competing stare. The first BOOM of a firework broke the silence and you two began to laugh, mainly to shake off the scare it caused you both. 

The sky was painted in bright colors and sparks from the ongoing firework show from Piltover, you were standing next to each other, hands gripping onto the balcony’s fencing.

“Hey, Happy New Year.” Vi sheepishly smiled at you, raising her hand to stroke your cheek. You lingered into the touch and this queued Vi to close the gap between you two with a passionate kiss.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

[playboysaleen]

Love Malady.

Part 3.

Summary: Daughter of the notorious gang of thieves. One day your brothers group kidnap a nobel woman. Feeling guilt you gave her warm clothes, tended to her injuries, and helped her escape. instantly the world falls under a deadly pandemic and is killing/infecting people left to right and you are the only one who is immune. All because you saved a girl years ago coming to find out... it was the goddess of death(Famine).

“Y/n. We know who you both are.” He warned loosening his tie taking a step towards us. I turned to Jaime who was already looking at me-

“We are the Ramirez.” Jaime answered standing tall which only caused the now creepy doctor to scoff leaning against the red button pressing it harshly.

“No.. no no no. You are Y/n and Jaime Rambo. Children of Jacks Rambo. Masterminded Pocket thief, the mob god huh..” the doctor breathed out. A loud alarm rang and red lights flashed in and out through the hospital.

“No…” I gasped out grabbing my brother's arm jotting our way to the exit.

“We have a Code 6 at the ER waiting room, 2 patients, level 4 danger.” The doctor spoke into his walkie talkie, sprinting towards the door shutter sounds were heard above me. Pushing open the door we ran towards the parking lot across the street, rushing into the view of no cars around us.

“SHIT!” I hissed running my fingers through my hair frantically spinning around trying to find anything that could help us escape. Loud revving rang in my ears causing me to snap my head to the parking lot entrance.

“Hey! Don’t move.” the officer yelled out hopping off his motorcycle, I huffed in satisfaction making my way to the two officers.

“Y/n! The hell are you doing?” Jaime cried out letting the worse screen through his head.

“I need you to step back!” one of the officers shouted, sucking in a huge breath. I grabbed the officers wrist, snapping it back, grabbing the gun that fell from his grip. I flung the pistol towards the other officer’s face causing the man to stumble over himself. I sent two strikes to the mans face swinging him over my shoulder knocking him onto the ground, groaning fell from his mouth i pressed my foot against his chest sending one last punch down to his temple sending him unconscious. I snapped my head towards the other smaller officer sprinting towards him, jumping I sent a knee into his chest sending his back to collide into the brick wall. The officer slid down the wall, falling limp to the ground. I turned huffing a heavy breath walking towards a very shocked Jaime.

“Okay, when did you learn that?” he shrieked, slinging his leg over the motorcycle roaring it to life. I shrugged my shoulders hopping onto the other motorcycle looking down in deep thought.

“I don't know, it seemed so easy to me.” I whispered, tightening my grip on the handle bars. I nodded my head at Jaime making my way towards the main street. Wind smacked against my face focusing on the road in front of me. Huge swat cars rushed to our sides making my brother and i speed up,

“Why is the S.W.A.T. on us?!” Jaime yelled out, i glanced his was shaking my head,

“I don’t know!” I shouted watching the light turn yellow a couple meters from where we were, jaime looked my way knowing what is about to happen-

“Awe Y/n we’re going to die” he warned/cried out speeding up to match my drift, holding my breath we zoomed past the red light hearing a loud clash/crash behind us. I exhaled glancing back to see a black out truck was in sight. I reached down to grab the pistol that hid in the holster on the bike, loading it and turning back aiming for the tire firing my weapon. The bullet dug deep into the front tire jerking the high-speed vehicle to flip forward onto its back. The sound of little bees zoomed past my ear but I knew it wasn't those cute yet horrifying insects. I saw a hooded figure pull another arrow from his quiver, wait a damn minute.

“Who is HYDRA?” Jaime tempered as we made a sharp right turn to catch a massive amount of blacked out vehicles with the words ‘HYDRA’ in white. The blockage was coming closer and closer with little to no time to think-

“On your left!” I shouted, taking the ramp flying across the blockade onto the roof of the small building. A shadow flew across the horizon in front of me, distracting me. The end of the roof caught the front of my tire sending me flying towards the building in front of me. Colliding with the huge chimney that stood tall, a crack sounded in my shoulder as a cry fell from my mouth.

“Y/n!” Jaime called out taking a leap over the roof running to my side. I grunted standing up quickly watching the HYDRA men on the roof before us, gripping Jaimes shirt bolting through the roofs. The shadow from earlier swooped in over us sending an object towards the men making them fall like pins at a bowling alley. Another figure in the distance tossed an object that smacked the man in heavy armor right on his back, the object zoomed right back into their hands.

“Is that-” my words were cut short when an arm slammed into my chest, falling hard onto my back a fist darted towards my face which I caught sending them into an arm lock.

“Black Widow?” Jaime questioned shock sprawled across his face, I looked down to see THE black widow struggling her way to escape my arm lock. Releasing her from my grip, I stepped back, staring at the woman.

“Why are the Avengers here?” Panting, I flinched back watching a car explode below us.

“Nat, why are there kids being chased by HYDRA?” I heard a small voice speak, I squinted towards Black Widows ear to see the earpiece- how can I hear that?

“I don’t know Steve but they’re not a threat, come on kids let’s go.” Natasha ordered making her way over the roof onto a small building below us. Flying bullets buzzed past my ear, ducking and weaving a huge spaceship/jet came into view.

“Oh yeah they’re the avengers.” Jaime rang following Natasha down the roof. Leaning forward, I felt this pinch pierce into my side sending me off the roof.

“Y/N!” Jaime cried out, running towards my side. I inhaled sharply pressing down on the wound watching the red blood pool onto my hand. Natasha grabbed Jaime pulling him towards the quinjet, arms scooped under me lifting me swiftly up and carried me to the jet.

“I got you.” The deep voice spoke, I turned to face him to find THE Captain America. Making it inside the jet many more voices were heard,

“Call in Bruce, tell him to prep med-bay.” Captain A ordered the man piloting the jet. Hissing out everyone turned my way-

“Please help her.” Jaime pleaded tailing behind Cap placing me onto the seat fastening me in. Natasha came into my blurred view examining me intently

“Why have I heard your name before?” Huffing out a heavy breath I shook my head leaning it against the handle letting the darkness consume me.

“Knock knock,” Nat sang, walking into the Wanda's room handing her the water bottle. Wanda smiled accepting the bottle heading towards the small desk that held many books with writing Natasha could barely understand.

“So Tony is hosting another party for the mission we completed last week,” Nat started taking a seat on Wanda’s bed.

“And there’s going to be some of his new business colleagues…” she dragged out the last word, Wanda playfully let a scoff fall from her lips shaking her head.

“I told you a million and one times that I’m not interested in no one at the moment.” Wanda spoke, organizing her books as Natasha scoffed loudly flinging her hands in the air.

“I tried so many men! Even women! And nothing!” Natasha dragged out, Wanda giggled leaning her head looking out the window.

“Or you have your heart on someone you can’t have huh…” Natasha joked/ spoke half-heartedly staring at Wanda’s expression that dropped as she sighed.

“Y/n..” Wanda whispered loud enough for Nat to catch.

“I met her a couple years ago. Most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. She was so caring, calm and the most gentle touch I have ever felt in years.” Wanda spoke. Natasha watched quietly listening,

“The night I saw her, I was being held hostage. I had a bag over my head and I was getting beat by two men that only wanted the thrill of fear from me. That’s when she came in talking this big speech about how they are not these type of people and -“

“Wait what type of people?” Natasha cut in, absorbed in the memory- Wanda gave Nat a look which she raised her hands up in defense, sighing she resumed her story.

“That’s the thing, they were so horrible but when she took off the bag from my head, the way her eyes sparked captured my whole attention. My heart beats for her in a way I can’t even explain, I told her I will find her one day. If it’s meant to be it will be, and I know I will see her again.” Wanda finished turning her body towards the desk, grabbing a journal and pulling out a small paper handing it towards Nat. Natasha took the paper from Wanda’s grasp whistling at the ink that laid against the sheet.

“Oh she’s gorgeous… I can see why you don’t want anyone but her.” Nat tried lightening up the moment when her eyebrows furrowed in confusion-

“Wait- why didn’t you use your powers when they had you hostage?” Nat questioned. Wanda sighed placing the sketch Nat had back inside her journal wiping the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It was like my powers had shut down… I didn’t feel them…” Wanda explained flicking her wrist letting the red ball glow on her hand.

“But I could feel her… “

\

part 2.

taglist- @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @superbscissorsdeanexpert

@severepeanutartisanhands @brutallysour00 @madamevirgo

@trikruismybitch

[c-e-d-dreamer]

For AU Day for @nessianweek I thought I’d test out this College AU that’s been bouncing around my brain because I’m College AU trash that I’m considering writing a proper/chaptered fic for. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Most days, University of Prythian feels like every other public college. All brooding brick buildings and precisely placed green spaces and students loudly milling about in droves. A group of frat boys throwing around a frisbee on the common. A group of girls in bikinis tops taking advantage of the late August sun. Shouts of “oh my god, hey” and “how was your summer” just barely drowning out crying parents dropping their kids off. It’s migraine inducing. 

Nesta throws the car into park, the old Chevy only groaning slightly as it settles after the trek up to campus. She hears the doors open and close, but she just grips the wheel and closes her eyes, taking in three steadying breaths and hoping the oxygen can find a way to calm her spiking blood. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s a new year. After everything that happened last year, technically up should be the only direction. She hopes. Once Nesta feels like she has a hold of her frayed nerves, she slides out of the driver’s seat to find Feyre already excitedly pulling her bags from the trunk, settling them on the pavement next to the car. Elain comes up beside their youngest sister, pulling her own suitcases out. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer to your dorm, Elain?” 

“I’m in Oakwood this year. It’s not that far a walk.” 

Nesta nods, grabbing the last of Feyre’s bags and closing the trunk. Before Elain can wheel off with her bags, Feyre’s wrapping an arm around each of her sisters’ shoulders, a wide smile plastered across her face under her U of P baseball cap. 

“The Archeron sisters are back together again!” 

“Well, until Nesta graduates,” Elain reminds Feyre. 

“Maybe she’ll do a fifth year, just for us.” 

Nesta just raises an eyebrow at her sisters’ antics. A fifth year? Impossible. Not only because she takes her studies very seriously, keeping her GPA well above the average, but because the idea of spending an extra, unnecessary year in this place sounds like her own personal circle of hell. The sooner she can finish her degree and get on with the rest of her life, the better. 

“Alright,” Feyre concedes. “Bad suggestion.” 

With a wave and a promise to meet up for dinner later, Elain is off towards Oakwood Hall. Nesta hoists one of Feyre’s duffle bags onto her shoulder, following her youngest sister toward her own dorm hall. As she steps up onto the sidewalk, though, her shoulder collides with a firm body, Feyre’s bag almost falling out of her grip. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” Nesta seethes. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” a voice calls in return, already swallowed up by the groups of students moving in and out of the dorm hall. 

Nesta rolls her eyes at the saccharine nickname, resettling the duffle on her shoulder and catching up to Feyre. Her sister’s dorm reminds Nesta of her own freshmen dorm from back in the day, simple and small, all white walls and plain wood furniture. Despite the things already in the room, Feyre’s roommate is nowhere to be seen. 

“Do you need help with anything else?” Nesta asks, dropping the bag she had been holding onto Feyre’s bed. 

“I should be good. Orientation starts in a few hours.” 

A moment passes as the two sisters stare at one another. They aren’t exactly the most affectionate of families, hugging and that sort of thing. So with a small nod and smile, Nesta is on her way, back out of the dorm hall and to her car. 

Luckily, the off campus apartment she’s staying in this year isn’t that long a drive, and when she walks through the door, Emerie is already inside, leaning against their kitchen counter, a fork poised between her fingers and what looks like a slice of chocolate cake perched on a plate. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Emerie drawls, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gives away the teasing nature. 

“Hope you brought enough to share,” Nesta replies, eying up Emerie’s plate. 

“Do I look like I’m made of money? Go to the dining hall and get your own.” 

“When’s Gwyn meant to get in?” 

“Not until later this week. I’m surprised you’re on campus this early.” 

“Feyre has orientation this week. Plus I need to hit up the bookstore. I have Williams this semester.” 

“That man seriously needs to get that stick out of his ass when it comes to having the “right edition” for his class.” 

“Tell me about it,” Nesta sighs, sneaking her hand into the utensils drawer and then snagging a bite of Emerie’s cake before the female has a chance to react. 

“Hey!” Emerie calls after Nesta as she retreats to her room. “You’re lucky I like you, Nesta Archeron!” 

~ * * * ~

The campus bookstore is mostly filled with parents and baby-faced freshmen trying to decide which University of Prythian gear to spend all their money on, but once Nesta pushes back to where the shelves of textbooks live, the throngs of bodies thin out. She can’t help but run her finger along the spines of the books, all lined perfectly along the shelves. Each spine is a different color, a different texture, bold or curvy font declaring its title to the world, and while many are textbooks, that feel under her fingers is still a comfort. Like a heartbeat lives between the soft linen pages and beats in time with her own. 

A turn around the corner and Nesta finds the section of books she needs. She scans the different titles, and when her eyes finally land on the one she needs, she can’t help the long sigh that looses from her lungs. Of course, it’s on the very top shelf. Nesta reaches her arm up, stretching up onto her tip-toes until the pads of her fingers just brush the spine of the book, trying to inch the book closer to the edge where she could get it down. 

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

Nesta falls back on her heels in surprise, the voice and nickname snagging on her memory. She whips her head around to find a guy leaning against the shelf, arms crossed casually across his chest and a smug smile plastered across his face. He’s tall with broad shoulders, dark curls pulled into a bun at the back of his head. Nesta’s eyes can’t help but snag on the lines of ink dancing across the skin of his arms and peeking out of the open cuts of his bro-tank. When her eyes dance back to his face, his hazel eyes are alight like he had clocked and was delighted in what she had been doing. It makes her brain crash back into action, a scowl settling easily across her features. 

“You were the one who bumped into me earlier. Outside of Somerset Hall.” 

“That was you?” the guy asks, not even being subtle as he checks Nesta out. “My apologies. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner.” 

Nesta doesn’t even deen that with a response. With a scoff, she turns back toward the front of the bookstore. She can come back later for the book she needs, ideally when this insufferable man with his cocky grins and overconfidence is nowhere to be seen. As she weaves her way through the shelves and toward the exit, she pointedly ignores the heavy set of footsteps she can hear trailing behind her. 

“At least tell me your name.” 

“No.” 

“No? Well that’s definitely an interesting name. My name’s Cassian by the way.” 

“I don’t recall asking.” 

“You didn’t have to. Your eyes were asking for you.” 

That has Nesta halting in her steps. She whirls around and clearly her sudden stop has this Cassian thrown off, his own steps stumbling. Good. She likes having the upperhand. 

“Does that line actually work for you?” 

“Actually, I usually have to use less words. My ruggedly handsome looks do all the talking.” 

“Rugged? Sure. But handsome?” Nesta pointedly rakes her eyes down his figure, and when they meet back with hazel, Cassian’s cock-sure grin slips the barest hint at the corner. “I don’t think so. You looked like you crawled out of a dumpster.” 

Nesta expects his smile to fall fully at the jab, and she hopes it’s enough for him to leave her alone, but instead that smile is still stubbornly there. Even worse, it twists and shifts into a smirk, like this is all some kind of fun game. It makes Nesta’s heart give an extra kick in her chest, and before she can even think about dwelling on what that means, she turns on her heel. 

“Goodbye, Cassian.” 

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” 

~ * * * ~

On Thursday, Nesta finds herself at the dining hall. It’s a little late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so luckily the place is blessedly not too crowded, just a few pockets of students talking and laughing at various tables. She’s standing in front of the pastry display when her phone starts buzzing incessantly, and she slides it out of her pocket to find Feyre going off in their sister group chat. 

I just met the most attractive man I have ever seen

I’m not fucking around. HIS FACE 

And he called me darling

He asked me to drinks tomorrow night!

“I personally prefer the blueberry muffins.” 

Nesta snaps her attention to her left to find Cassian standing there, that same wide and cocky grin from the bookstore settled across his face. His hair is down today, soft curls framing his face and brushing against his cotton tee covered shoulders. 

“You again,” Nesta sighs. 

“Isn’t it funny how we keep meeting?” 

“Funny isn’t the word I would use.”

“It’s almost like the Universe keeps pushing us together.”

“Or you’re stalking me.” 

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” Cassian says, tossing a wink Nesta’s way. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“I thought we already established the fact I’m ruggedly handsome?” 

“Pretty sure the only thing we’ve established is that you’re full of yourself.” 

Nesta turns and snags one of the wrapped chocolate chip muffins out of the display case, fully prepared to end this conversation and enjoy her snack in peace. 

“You forgot something the other day, you know.” 

Nesta looks back toward Cassian where he has an outstretched hand between them. There, clutched between his fingers, is the book she went to the campus bookstore to pick up. She blinks a few times at the wide script proclaiming Art Through the Ages, the cogs in her brain tripping over one another and trying to comprehend the sight before her. Her hand begins to reach out to take the book before she snaps it back to her side, her eyes locking back on Cassian’s face. 

“You got the book I needed?” 

“The perfect excuse to find and talk to you again.” 

“Well, I can’t accept it.” 

“Then you can Venmo me,” Cassian says, leaning into Nesta’s space and pressing the book into her hands. “And your Venmo will have your name, won’t it? So it’s a win-win.” 

This close up, Nesta can see all the green vines and gold flecks that make up his hazel eyes. The way his nose sits just off kilter like it’s been broken and set not quite right and the stubble pushing through along his jawline. She can feel the warmth that seems to radiate off his person in rolling waves. It’s a bit overwhelming. 

“It’s Nesta,” she offers, taking a step back. 

“Nesta,” Cassian says, like he’s testing the weight of her name on his tongue. “Well, Nesta, how about that dinner? The offer still stands. Or we could skip straight to dessert.” 

Nesta lets out a snort at the comment. She’s sure the sound isn’t particularly attractive, but she can’t help it. The audacity of this man. 

“Only in your dreams,” Nesta quips, turning on her heel and heading toward the register to pay for her muffin. 

“Is that a promise?”

She pretends she doesn’t hear him as she swipes her meal card and makes for the dining hall exit. She can feel Cassian’s eyes tracking her the whole way. 

Later, when Nesta gets back to her room and is thumbing through Art Through the Ages, she finds a note folded up between the pages. She opens up the paper to find an unfamiliar scrawl, simple black lines spelling out ‘Cassian’ and ten digits. She hesitates for only a moment before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash. 

~ * * * ~

Classes start up on Monday, and Nesta is ready to throw herself back into her books, notes, and work. She has a jammed packed schedule this semester, knocking out the rest of her general education credit requirements needed to graduate on time. The perfect distraction to keep her mind busy. At least, she was able to squeeze in enough classes that actually interest her, including a course on Early Women Writers. 

On Tuesday, she walks into the science building and her chemistry class. She finds a lab table a few spots back from the front, settling onto one of the stools. She pulls her textbook and laptop from her bag and is just typing in her laptop password when she feels a presence behind her. 

“I guess I should thank you for coming through on your promise. The best dreams I’ve ever had.” 

Nesta can’t stop the pained sigh that pulls its way out her lungs. She rubs a hand down her face before turning to the right, just in time to find Cassian sliding into the stool beside her. He has another cotton tee on, his hair once again pulled up into a bun style. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking this class.” 

Cassian reaches into his backpack and pulls out his own chemistry textbook, holding it up as some sort of proof. 

“The Universe strikes again.” 

“So you keep saying, but clearly the Universe has bad taste.” 

Cassian throws his head back and laughs at the comment, surprising Nesta with his reaction and earning them a few curious looks from the rest of the class. The sound is deep and warm, seeming to radiate from deep within his chest. His shoulders shake like his large frame isn’t enough to contain the sound, and Nesta finds herself staring at the crinkles that appear beside his eyes. 

“Alright, class. Welcome to chemistry.” 

A hush falls over the whole room as the professor strides in the door and to the front of the room. She hands a small stack of syllabus sheets to each person sitting at the front to be passed back and a blank seating chart to fill in is passed between the tables. The professor goes through the syllabus for much of the allotted class time, and Nesta makes notes in the margins of hers about the grading system and circles the important deadlines she’ll need to remember. 

“I hope you’re comfortable with where you’re sitting and who you’re sitting with,” the professor addresses the class an hour later. “They’ll be your lab partner for the rest of the semester.” 

Nesta wants to groan as she buries her face in her hands. How did this become her life? As if simply seeing Cassian’s insufferable face three times a week for this class isn’t enough, now they actually have to interact and work with one another. If Cassian’s theory about this being the Universe's doing is correct, Nesta is pretty sure the Universe is just laughing in her face now. 

“Well, would you look at that, Nes,” Cassian drawls from beside her. “Another point for the Universe.” 

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Nesta mutters from between her fingers. 

“As long as we get to cuddle a little beforehand.” 

“Cute,” Nesta says, putting as much dry sarcasm as she can behind the single word. 

“You know, lab partner,” Cassian offers while he stands up and slings his backpack across his shoulders. “I think it’s going to be a great semester.”

[azucanela]

MOVIE NIGHTS & FADING LIGHTS

PAIRING: TODOROKI SHOUTO X FEM!READER

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto evidently has not seen a single one of today’s most iconic movies, luckily, Y/N L/N intends to change that.

GENRE: FLUFF.

WARNINGS: NONE.

NOTE: im actually really proud of this so it’s a birthday gift to myself

BNHA MASTERLIST

MOVIES WERE A LEARNING EXPERIENCE for Shouto Todoroki, watching each one taught him something new. Sometimes it was that there were certain things that simply should not be said, which was a much needed lesson given his blunt nature. Other times it was an odd fact that one character offhandedly mentioned. But the most common observation Shouto had made was that people did illogical things when they felt strong emotions.

Normally, he’d watch a movie once a month maybe. If a friend invited him out to the movies or to watch something at their house, there was a 50/50 chance he agreed to go, so maybe a few times a month. Sometimes the entirety of Class 1A even got together to watch a “classic” as Mina had put it.

It wasn’t really until Y/N that Shouto became an avid movie watcher, though the only reason he did watch movies as frequently as he did was the simple fact that Y/N had decided they would have a weekly movie night. Most nights, she’d pick the movie, mostly because Shouto didn’t really have a preference and the one time he did make a suggestion, it didn’t end well.

He appreciated nights like these, they made him feel... normal. It wasn’t like he’d watched movies much as a kid, most of the time he spent watching TV was spent on the News Channel. So he hadn’t really seen things that were considered staple moments of his classmates’ childhoods. But now he had the opportunity to, and it felt nice.

Y/N just hoped that he didn’t find her annoying after all these nights of dragging him out of the comfort of his room to watch a movie on the TV she’d somehow smuggled into her dorm. She had a feeling he was just coming along to placate her at this point, though he’d seemed to enjoy himself sometimes— his reactions tended to be minimal.

Then again, for Shouto that was normal. But Y/N figured he had better things to do than hang out with her. And yet, he came, every week. The thought brings a smile to her face as she grabs a bowl and a bag of popcorn that had yet to be popped.

There’s a knock at the door, and Y/N is quickly drawn from her thoughts. Coming to a stand, she dusts off her pants before continuing towards the door and opening it to reveal Shouto himself.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

Shouto offers her a small smile, and just like he has every other week, he stands outside her door almost awkwardly. Y/N had found that Shouto wouldn’t enter unless invited inside, when she’d first noticed it— Y/N compared him to a vampire. He hadn’t understood what she was referencing, so naturally, she made him watch an old Vampire movie the following week. 

“Shouto, you know, you don’t have to wait for me to invite you in.” She says, leaving him at the door as she turns around to pick up the popcorn. 

He nods slowly, “right.” Shouto steps inside, eyes drifting around the room like they usually do. As though he hadn’t been in Y/N’s dorm time and time again. “No popcorn?”

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she shows him the yet to be popped, popcorn. “Not yet, I’ll be back.” She says, offering him a smile as she moves to leave.

“Wait,” Shouto says, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stands by the door, “what if I tried to pop it?” There’s a pensive look on his face as he stares at the bag, “do you think my quirk would allow me to do that?”

The complete and utter seriousness on his face pulls another laugh out of Y/N as she looks to him, adoration in her eyes as she hands it over to him, “give it a go.”

He smiles back at her, and reaches into his pocket, “by the way– Mina suggested we watch this movie called The Notebook.” Shouto was unaware as to how Mina had determined he and Y/N watched movies weekly, though he isn’t necessarily surprised seeing as she is the renowned class gossip. 

Y/N on the other hand finds her cheeks warming as she recalls how Mina had interrogated her on how she’d managed to get the prettiest boy in class wrapped around her finger and visiting her frequently. Since they’d started their weekly meet ups, he’d become notably more... present in her life. 

If Y/N was there, Shouto wasn’t far behind. 

Even now, as they stand under the overhang of one of many closed stores, the streetlights the only thing providing any light now that the sun has set, rain pouring down harshly. Shouto is beside Y/N.

He finds himself reminded of something else he’d learnt from the many movies he’d seen in the past few months.

Love makes people do severely illogical things. 

The thought hits him like a ton of bricks, an indescribable feeling washing over him as his eyes fall on Y/N, who stands at his side. Shouto had insisted on staying behind with her despite the oncoming storm. Would that be considered illogical?

Is this love?

He doesn’t know what he feels as he looks at her, but there’s a tightness in his chest, a feeling of freedom— almost a breath of relief to being around her. Shouto wasn’t necessarily sure what it was he was feeling as he watched her extend a hand into the rain.

“It’s raining hard.” She says, brows furrowing as she looks to Shouto, “sorry you got caught up in this with me. You could’ve been home by now.”

Shouto simply shakes his head, “it’s not a problem.” Comes his response, watching as she rubs her arms viciously, attempting to warm herself. Shouto tilts his head at her as he watches, before grabbing her and pulling her to his left side. Y/N seems shocked at the sudden contact but she only looks to him momentarily before realizing why, as he begins to warm the both of them with his quirk. 

“Thank you.” She mumbles out, her arm wrapping around his back as she leans into him, “but we still have to find a way to get through this rain.”

With a shrug, Shouto replies, “we could wait it out?”

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she shakes her head, eyes drifting towards the sky, “I have a feeling it’s going to last a while.” Brows furrowing, Y/N looks back to Shouto with a grin, “we could run for it?”

“What?”

Y/N laughs once more before releasing Shouto and leaving his hold, the sudden loss of warmth causes her to shudder, but she only looks back to him once more before launching herself into the rain. Shouto extends an arm, attempting to grab her and keep her running any further but she’s already heading towards the middle of the plaza. 

He’s left standing these, dumbfounded, arm still extended as he watches Y/N runs through the rain. Shouto can hear her laughs as he watches. Water falls onto his hand, the only thing left unprotected from the overhang. And Shouto finds himself wondering if maybe, he should take a leap of faith. 

“Are you coming?” Y/N calls out to him, drawing him from his thoughts. 

And so, Shouto steps out into the rain, almost instantly his hair is matted against his head by the weight of the water falling on his head as he makes his way towards Y/N, clothes getting drenched in the process. It’s uncomfortable,  but there’s something peaceful about it, something that leaves him shutting his eyes and allowing his head to fall back as rain fell onto him.

When he opens his eyes, they instantly find Y/N, who’s beaming at him as she takes his hand— her clothes are drenched as well, and yet she’s still smiling, and so is he.

Love makes people severely illogical. This was definitely illogical. Neither of them should really be enjoying this, but it was nice in a sense of it’s own.

Y/N grabs his hand, and Shouto allows her to pull him towards the next overhang, a means of shelter before they made another dash for the UA dorms. But before they reach it, Shouto comes to a full stop, causing Y/N to look back to him, puzzled look on her face as she tilts her head at him.

And suddenly, Shouto is yanking her towards him, their chests colliding as Y/N gasps in shock. Her eyes meet Shouto’s water pouring down on the pair of them as his hands come to her cheeks. 

And so he kisses her, pressing his lips to hers, the hands that had been on his chest are no grappling at his shirt in an attempt to tug him closer as the rain falls down onto them— but that’s not something that concerns either of them right now. 

Love makes people illogical, yes, but Shouto was okay with that. 

[harryspet]

Hey I'm can you write like where dark Peter parker kidnaps reader. And she is very innocent. And he just uses a vibrator and overstimulated her. It's just really awkward for me because I have never send an ask before but. You don't have to write it of course. Love your writing!

his toy | peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x reader, innocent reader, non con, kidnapping, vibrator, overstimulation, light bondage, little editing

A/N: This is pretty much what you asked for but I added some plot stuff. Hope you enjoy it!

In which you witness something Peter doesn’t want you to see.

word count: 1.9k

Your hand clamped over your mouth after the abrupt scream left your lips. The man toppled off off the edge of the building and he screamed bloody murder as he fell to his death. You were just coming up to get fresh air like you always did. You listened to the city as you wrote in your journal but, tonight was different. More than different.

The man who had pushed him was standing right there and he pulled off his black masks as he heard you scream. Your heart raced and tears stung your eyes as you recognized him. You knew him as Spiderman but, judging by his all-black appearance, he wasn’t in the mood for protecting the neighborhood.

Peter looked you over from where you were standing by the roof door and his jaw clenched, “I-I’m s-sorry,” You turned around to grab the door handle but, before you could even reach for it, web spread around the handle. You were trapped.

You thought your heart might explode out of your chest as you heard him speak, “You must have some very very bad luck,” Peter watched your shaky figure try not to panic. You looked so … breakable, “You know that guy?”

You instantly shook your head, “N-No, s-sir,” That made Peter a little tense? Sir? He smiled evilly. You didn’t seem that far from his own age, “I-I’m sure h-he was a … bad man.”

Peter took a few steps closer to you, only about five feet away from you now, “Smart girl,” Peter complimented you, “Telling me what I’d like to hear. What if I told you he wasn’t the bad guy? Would that scare you?”

“But y-you’re spiderman-”

Peter clenched his fist, “There’s only so much work can do without violence,” He took a few more steps and you moved away from the door, knowing you were getting out that way, “Fear usually works but some people just end up being useless to you. Like that guy.”

Peter spoke casually as he stalked towards you and you stumbled away from him, “Some people become liabilities like you,” You had seen him murder an innocent man, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go. As you stepped back and you felt the brick wall that lined the edge of the roof, you knew he was going to do the same thing to you.

“I-I’m not!” You rushed, “I won’t tell anyone, sir. I-I promise! Please, I-I have a family!”

Peter cocked his head to the side, shaking his head, “Don’t we all?” You felt dizzy like you might pass out as he closed the distance between you. His hand wrapped around your throat and as you useless used your own hands to pull his away, Peter became amused. As he got close enough to really look into your eyes, something in him shifted.

“Please-” Peter’s hands tightened around your throat and soon you found yourself gasping for air. You clawed at the fabric of his suit as your eyes grew even wide. You thought this was it and that the last eyes you’d be looking into were his.

“Relax, the nightmare begins later,” He told you though, your vision blurring as you slipped away to the darkness. As you went limp, Peter knew he was taking a risk by not killing you but there was a light in your eyes, one that was foreign to him now. He wanted to see how long you’d last with him before it went out.

+

The first thing you felt was coldness everywhere. As your eyes blinked open, light flooded your vision. It was harsh and flickering as it illuminated your body. As you started to realize the coldness was due to being naked, Peter walked the rest of the way down the steps, moving towards the bed you were laying on.

You were in some dingy basement, the only light in the room seemed to focus on the metal bed which made the surrounding room seem like a dark abyss.

You sat up, panicked as he made his way closer. Your throat was killing you and your voice was hoarse as you tried to scream, “Don’t do that,” As you scrambled away, you tumbled off of the bed, your bottom touching the cold cement.

You climbed to your feet and began to back away more but something around your neck yanked you back. Your fingers found the cold metal of a chain there. He was keeping you leashed like a dog and naked like a … “Your neck is already bruised, Y/N, I wouldn’t do that,” You guess that he had gone through your things to find that out. You looked at him with a look of shock and fear before you grabbed at the chain. You pulled, finding it attached to the bed frame.

You care little about the stinging around your neck and more about the superhero that was keeping you in his basement, “W-What are you doing?” You spoke hoarsely, tears already trailing down your cheeks. Peter stalked around the bed, coming towards you and as he did, you climbed back onto the bed to get away from him.

He flashed you an amused look. You acted as if he couldn’t snatch you up and have you for dinner if he wanted. He stood before you, dressed only in a pair of jeans, his muscular chest on full display. You watched as he casually slid something out of his back pocket, a small book that you quickly realized was your journal.

“I’ve been doing some light reading,” He teased you, flipping open to one of the pages, “I see Trevor all the time now because he comes into my favorite coffee shop. I wonder if he knows how much I stare at him-”

“Stop it, p-please.”

Was his plan to embarrass you to death? “I wonder if he knows how much I want to be with him. I imagine he’s a good kisser. I’ve never kissed anyone but, if he was my first, I would probably thank the heavens-”

“Stop it! You have to let me go. I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Peter didn’t expect you to shout. Maybe you had a little more fire in you then he previously assumed, “I know you won’t,” Peter tossed the book to the side and it smack that made you flinch. He used that moment to quickly move forward, grabbing your leg so hard and fast that your head collided hard with the mattress. You struggled, kicking your limbs but each hit you made felt like your skin was colliding with metal. You were only hurting yourself in the process and Peter was waiting for you to tire yourself.

He grabbed both your arms, pinning your wrist behind your own back as he pushed your front into his. The chain around your neck clanged as you tried to shake him away. Before you knew it, your faces were inches apart and you were trying your hardest to look away from him. Your breathing was heavy from all the fighting but Peter was calm. Eerily calm.

One hand pinned your wrist while the other trailed up to your face. He brushed a strand of hair back and you tried not to flinch, to not show any more weakness, “Be a good girl for me and you can go back to fantasizing about your little Trevor,” Peter’s thumb held your face, and he traced his thumb along your cheek.

“Y-You’ll let me go?”

“Say you’ll be a good girl for me,” he demanded and you bit down on the bottom of your lip. As he noticed you hesitate, he reached back to grab a section of your hair roughly. It strained the sensitive area around your neck again.

You yelped, “O-Okay, I’ll be good. I’ll be good!”

“Say my name. Say you’ll be good for Peter.”

He could kill you. He could kill you so easily and would anyone you love even know where to find you?

“I-I’ll be good for you, Peter,” You stuttered over the words as they left your mouth and Peter grinned wickedly. His name on your lips was heaven to him but hell to you.

He let go of his tight grip around your hair before he reached into the rickety nightstand beside the bed. Peter pulled you into his lap as you tried to get a good look at the device he was holding. Your legs were on either side of his body, your arms still pulled behind your back, and the chain tight around your neck.

It was a white wand and you thought it looked like a body massager, “What is that?” Peter didn’t answer as it suddenly shifted on, the mushroom top shaking as it vibrated. He pressed the tip against your exposed breasts and a whimper left your lips. He only pulled you tighter to him as you tried to move away.

Peter watched as your nipple grew harder and wondered what other parts of your body were that sensitive. The wand trailed over your breasts, then down your stomach before it danced over your private areas. Peter knew you had never been touched like this and he reveled in the idea that this was your first time.

The vibrator dipped between the folds of your sensitive mound and you jerked, not because of Peter, but because of the foreign sensation. As you tried to move away from it, he only pushed it further into you causing a shocked gasp to leave your lips. Then, Peter knew it had been a good idea to not gag you.

He was going to enjoy those beautiful sounds you made like you were an instrument that he was playing.

“Such a good girl, Y/N,” Peter praised you though it was getting hard to focus on him. The feeling overwhelmed your senses and sent a warm wave of pleasure through your body. Biting down on your lip couldn’t stop your moaning, “What a sensitive little toy.”

It only took a good two minutes before your body began convulsing as the first orgasm whipped through you, “Oh God!” You cried, “Oh-” He interrupted you by smashing his lips against yours, his arm still keeping the vibrating tool against your sensitive bulb.

He had stolen your first kiss and all you could think about was how good it felt. You hated how your body betrayed you.

It was becoming too much but, as you opened your lips to protest, Peter swallowed your cries with his own mouth. He kissed you roughly, his tongue exploring your mouth and tasting the desperation. You were desperate to get away from the overstimulation. His grip only got tighter and you were forced to ride that wave once again.

“C’mon, give me another,” Peter grunted as he bit down on your neck. As you cried out, you felt another huge release, this time you felt wetness pooling around your thighs. You thought you might have peed on yourself, not understanding that you had just ejaculated, but that didn’t stop Peter from keeping the toy pressed there.

“No more, n-no more, Peter!” You begged and Peter pulled away from the hickey he was making on your neck.

He held your face as he looked into your eyes, “Don’t quit now. I know you can give me more, toy.”

And your head tilted back as your mind went blank for a moment and you were on another high.

+

hope you enjoyed! like, reblog and let me know what you think!

[moral-turpitudes]

Silver Linings: Part 1

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

A/N: Excuse any of my terrible math skills and if this seems rushed. This is the best I could come up with lol, I hope you all like it though!

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Slight Fighting, Descriptions of Drug Use, Drinking, Familial Drama, Fluff, Mentions of Adoption, etc.

Word Count: 3,972

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Adopted Daughter!Reader + Michael Gray x Alfie’s Adopted Daughter!Reader

Summary: After growing tired of hiding, Y/N decides to venture out from the back of her fathers shop, not knowing she’d quite literally fall for one of her father’s enemies who happened to be lurking around the corner. But with tensions growing between the two families, one decision could change the course of their lives as they know it, for better and for worse.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | *Part 4* | Part 5

“Alright Y/N, now when you aim you gotta line yer eyes up with the sight. Take a deep breath, and on that exhale of yours yer gonna pull that little trigger right there.” Alfie said, the teenage girl only coming up to around his chest, her hands shaking slightly as she aimed the small hand gun for one of the flour sacks in the back of the shop. With a small exhale she fired, the bullet whirling through the air and into the target she’d helped draw on it the day before.

“See that’s not so hard innit?” He asked, smiling at the new light in his life.

Y/N heard her father calling for her upstairs, bringing her out of her daydreams from years ago. That was during the first week she’d lived with him after he adopted her from the nearby orphanage. She had no adoptive mother, and no other friends except their dog Cyril, seeing as she had to be practically hidden away on a daily basis. The only time she really went out was to work in her fathers shop, where she’d do her best to avoid being spotted by her fathers business partners-some of which who had strained relationships with him and his men.

Shaking the memory from her brain, she hesitantly walked up the stairs, the creaking of the wood announcing her arrival.

“There you are love. Listen...I’m having Mr. Shelby come by soon so you’ll have to work in the back alright? I know you’ll get me for it later but I’ll make up for it mmkay?” He said, looking his now 21 year old daughter in the eyes. People often found him intimidating, but over the years she grew used to him, knowing deep down he was a sweet person. With every interaction she observed, she could see the pain in his eyes over not being able to really introduce her, knowing it would put her at risk. But deep down there was a mutual understanding between them that it was going to be inevitable that someone would find out, but neither of them thought it would be so soon.

With a sigh, she reluctantly walked towards the back where the other “bakers” worked the ovens and inspected shipments. While she organized bricks of cocaine for shipment, she felt her stomach drop as she realized she’d left her gloves in the front of the shop. She often hated the texture of the bricks as she packed them away, the fabric gloves being her only solace when she was given the task.

Swallowing hard, she nervously crept around the corner, eyeing Thomas Shelby and some of the other blinders in her fathers office as she continued, not noticing the man she collided with as she stumbled back slightly.

“Oi! I’m so sorry sir...wasn’t even fuckin’ looking.” She said, brushing a stray hair from her face and tightening her apron around her waist.

“No problem love, you alright?” He asked, looking concerned as he adjusted his well tailored suit.

“Y-yeah. Just looking for my gloves. I have to go.” She said, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be out for long while the blinders were there, yet trying to not look the dashing man in the eyes.

As she walked away, his eyes followed her to her station where she usually rolled dough and decorated pastries, grabbing her gloves which were tinted white from the previous cocaine shipment she handled earlier in the morning.

“Hey...miss? Before you go...what’s your name?” He asked, a crooked smile spreading across his features as she neared him.

“Uhm...it’s Y/N. What’s yours? You don’t look like you’re from ‘round here.” She said.

“I’m Michael, Michael Gray. I’m with the blinders.” He said.

“Oh....um, well I have to get going. It was nice meeting you...Michael.” She said, awkwardly putting on the gloves as he recognized the powder falling off them.

“What do you around here anyway? I know that’s not flour on those gloves.” He said with a smirk. She swallowed hard before answering, her eyes flicking to the window of her fathers office.

“Um...I bake, and...I organize things. Listen...I really do have to go. I’ll see you ‘round sometime, yeah?” She asked. He followed her gaze to the window, noticing the nervous look on her face.

“Alright. See you around, Y/N.” He said with a wink, walking back to his lookout spot in the corner.

She smirked slightly as she passed him, reluctantly heading straight to the back, the other workers paying her no mind as she resumed packing the bricks.

As she worked, she could hear shouts coming from her fathers office, her stomach tightening in knots at the tension she could see forming in the room. Thomas and him standing close to each other, most likely mumbling threats under their breaths. A few moments later, she saw the men exit the tattered room, putting their razored caps on and storming out the door. Michael ultimately leaving with them, but catching her staring as he looked back towards the room she was in. She smiled lightly as he smirked, shutting the door behind him.

She shook her head as she turned back, getting the rest of her packing done while shaking away the thought of someone like him ever taking an interest. She knew her father dealt in dangerous business, so she wasn’t afraid of the blinders and her father doing business necessarily, but she couldn’t deny that them feuding terrified her, knowing even one slip-up could put her or her father at risk. Blowing their years-long cover.

As she was lost in thought, Alfie walked down after they left, smiling as he grabbed a bottle of rum from one of the crates and locking it back.

“You don’t have to organize all those love. How about we go call it a day aye? I know you’re probably wanting summing’ because your old man made ya work back ‘ere all day.” He said. His words annoying to her ears as of late as she grew bored of her life at the shop and at home. One question forever buzzing in the back of her mind as she continued her monotonous tasks.

“I was wondering something....” She said, taking her gloves off and turning towards him.

“Yeah? Wondering about work or what? I’m all ears now you know.” He said, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.

Her stomach tightened again as she looked her loving, yet over-protective father in the eyes.

“I was uh...wondering how you would feel if I moved out?” She asked, the thought barely working its way through her anxious mind before spewing out of her mouth.

“What?” He asked, his eyes squinting as he cocked his head to the side.

“I-I just think since I’m an adult now, I’d like to have a place of my own. That way I won’t come between ya and the business as much. I’m tired of hiding, dad.” She said, throwing the gloves on the table as she sat next to him.

“What devils gotten into your bones? Have you been sniffing the snow or drinking me rum?” He asked.

“No dad....I just...I just want to be more independent that’s all.” She said.

“I’ll tell ya what...if you pack the snow for the next month I’ll up your pay so you can get you a place. I’ll chip in some too but getting it on your own will be good for ya. I taught you to shoot but I didn’t teach ya about life aye?” He said.

“No not really. But spare me the lectures. Let’s get home. I’m starving.” She said.

“Alright. Let’s get on with it then.” He said, walking with his cane as they made their way to the car.

As the next few weeks passed, she found herself going into work with a smile. Knowing she’d get to work towards her own place, and for the chance to see the dapper blinder who’d been making regular appearances lately, and to her surprise, for more than business reasons.

He’d been sent by Thomas to crunch numbers and talk bets with Alfie, knowing that he was sent to handle more of the legitimate business than the illegal stuff.

But if Y/N learned anything throughout her years, it was knowing when to make herself known.

She waited until Alfie closed his office door, watching Michael walk down the creaky steps as she did a small whistle.

He turned around and grinned, walking towards her, as was becoming their habit recently.

“Y/N, didn’t think you were here, love. Must’ve been in the back again aye?” He asked, quietly. She nodded and led him to one of the women’s lavatories.

“W-why are we in here? I haven’t even taken you on a date.” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Shh. There’s no other place right now for us to go. I haven’t told him.” She said.

“Told who?” He asked.

“My-my father. Alfie.” She said, nervously biting her lip as she removed her hand from his. Crossing her arms over her chest.

“Wait...your father is Alfie fucking Solomons?” He asked, his face hardening at the fact. His usual happy demeanor fading.

“Well, adoptive father. He uh adopted me when I was 16 from an orphanage ’round here. He wanted to protect me...from uh...people like you. I guess he’s had some bad history with the blinders and other groups so I’ve been most my life, just working here to pass the time.” She said.

“People like me? What...are you afraid of me?” He asked.

“What? No! I’ve been around dangerous men all my life. I’m just saying that your blinder cousins may not take a liking to me and neither will my father to you. I just have a bad feeling about it.” She said.

“So...what are we to do? Fucking talk in the bathroom every week or what?” He asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“We’ll do what I do best. We’ll have to hide.” She said. He looked at her with a confused expression as he put his hand on her hips.

“I get off at 4pm and my father won’t be home until late at night. I usually go straight home, but meet me at the warehouse later around 7pm, yeah?” She asked, seeing him smirk.

“Michael I’m deadly serious. If Thomas or my father finds out we’re as good as dead.” She said.

“Fine...I’ll meet you, but I want you to bring some of the snow. Can you sneak it out?” He asked.

“Yeah. Alright, now go, the workers are coming down the hall.” She said, hearing the plethora of Alfie’s men stomping down the dark hall, making it easier for Michael to slip out un-noticed.

“See you then, Y/N.” He said, pecking her cheek before he left.

She rubbed the spot, her cheeks flushing at the brief contact.

“Y/N?” Alfie’s voice rang from the hall, making her heart race as she thought of all the reasons he could be asking for her, internally praying that it wasn’t because he caught Michael leaving.

“Yeah dad?” She asked, quickly stepping out of the restroom.

“Thought ya ran off love. I was just gonna remind ya I’m working late again.” He said.

“Alright, how many nights are you working late?” She asked.

“Well, probably every day for this month. Thomas and the rest of his blinders are damn near making me lose me mind.” He said.

“Oh...ok. Well I’ll keep an eye on Cyril then. Is it ok if I go out to the shops later? Been wanting to stock up for the new place, for whenever I get it.” She said.

“I mean I’m not going to be there so I can’t stop ya can’t I? You can but remember your gun and that knife. You remember how to use it aye?” He asked.

“Yes dad, I can’t really forget stabbing a man for you, nor can I forget putting a bullet through his head.” She said, shivering slightly at the memory of when things got tense at the shop with a disgruntled employee. Alfie had beaten the man unconscious and dragged the man to the back, telling her that it would be good practice. And it was, but after it was done, she vowed to herself that she’d never use such weapons unless she had to.

“Right, well I have to go deal with some business. I’ll let you off at 4 like usual alright?” He asked.

“Okay, thanks dad. I’ll see you...I guess tomorrow depending on how late you get in.” She said giving him a hug before walking back to her station.

The last few hours dragged on as she reminisced over the past couple of weeks. Her heart skipped a beat thinking about how they’d secretly talk and make out behind the shop where her dad couldn’t see, and how on days like today she had to drag him into the restroom as her heart beat out of her chest at the rebelliousness of it all. It was nothing compared to what she planned to get away with tonight, and for hopefully weeks to come, but it was a small step towards her independence, even if they had to hide their relationship from the world.

As the clock struck 4 she headed towards the back of the building, snagging a bottle of rum from an opened crate and replacing it with one that had just came off the line for the night. Shoving the bottle in her purse as she grabbed a rather small brick of cocaine, it being one of the various runts in the pile they’d received that day.

With quick steps, she went out the door and down to the car that was waiting for her. The purse growing slightly heavy as she continued on. Her father didn’t want her walking home alone of course, and so he arranged for one of his men to routinely take her home, ultimately becoming a blessing and a curse for her independence she was so desperately trying to achieve.

“Hello Tim, I have an odd request today.” She said, counting the huge wad of cash in her purse she’d managed to save up well before asking about apartments

“What’s that Ms.Solomons?” He asked, hid old face wrinkling with a smile.

“Can we stop by the housing department? I’ve had my eye on an apartment for a few weeks. Don’t worry though, I’ve already gotten my fathers approval.” She said, pulling off her biggest lie yet.

“Alright, after that do you wish to go home? He asked.

“Yes please.” She said, watching as the streets zipped by.

Once at the housing department, she told the landlord where she’d like to stay and she followed her to the requested location. Her eyes lit up as she saw the rather grand place. It was just close enough that her father needn’t worry too much while also being just enough of a distance away from the shops she loved going to. It was a rather safe area given the town and her fathers plethora of men protecting her, but she enjoyed the new sense of independence as she gave the woman a cash deposit, along with enough for the years rent.

The woman’s eyes lit up as she saw the amount of cash, Y/N rather un-phased given her fathers business.

“Are you sure Ms.? This is so much in advance.” She said.

“Yes. When shall I move in?” She asked. Checking her watch and seeing it was just after 5pm.

“Oh I’d say ‘round any time next week. Here’s your key, just drop by before you begin moving in.” She said with a smile as she got in her car and left.

“Alright Tim, I’m ready to go home.” She said, a satisfied smile on her face.

“I’m impressed. You got this place yourself? Alfie must be proud.” He said.

“Mhmm.” Y/N said, nervously fidgeting with her hands as she remembered the lie. He’d have her neck if he knew she’d already bought the place earlier than he would’ve liked. But what could it hurt?

The minutes passed rather quickly as she was dropped off at her house, walking inside to see Cyril’s tail wagging as she came through the front door. The house was dimly lit and quiet, just as she’d left it that morning. She played with him and made sure his water bowl was filled, seeing as the maid would help feed him later, but she still loved helping wherever she could.

“Ms. Y/N, I have your dress ready. I’ll feed the dog later and make sure the house is kept before leaving. I hope you enjoy your date.” The older woman said, a genuine smile on her face.

“Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me these last few weeks. Here.” She said, giving her a few slips of cash from her purse.

“Just as a thank you. I’ll be moving in next week to my apartment. Dad doesn’t know though so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.” She said.

The maids eyes widened at the cash in her hand, agreeing with a small smile and a quick nod before returning to her duties. As much as she loved this house, she wanted to do things on her own terms. She wanted to meet people on her own terms, and finally not hide herself. To make more friends than just the maid. To start actually living.

With an excited smile she ran up the stairs, putting the casual dress on and doing her makeup, deciding to leave her hair as-is, then anxiously making her way outside. The purses weight tugging at her shoulder as she walked down the quiet streets, her gun in her purse and her small knife in hand.

Once she neared the warehouse, she sat around the back, taking a swig of the rum before Michael got there to calm her nerves.

She watched the sun set over Camden Town, the birds songs ending as the insects buzzed about, the air turning a bit colder as she looked at her watch. It was just after 7pm, her heart sinking in her chest as she thought he’d stood her up. But after a few moments, she heard footsteps, making her panic slightly not knowing who was behind them. She carefully drew her gun, aiming at the man as he walked closer, his hands soon up in surrender.

“Y/N? It’s me. Michael.” He said, a smirk on his face, lowering his hands.

“I figured you were ‘round back, didn’t think you’d try to shoot me though.” He said.

“Sorry. You never know out here.” She said, putting her gun away and retrieving the cocaine and rum.

“You carried all that here? I’m impressed.” He said, inspecting the cocaine as she opened the bottle, taking another swig from it. She cringed internally as the liquid burned her throat. She’d only drank a few times, not to any huge extent, but now that she was older and more capable, she figured she at least could drink how she pleased.

“How’d you score this rum?” He asked, taking a swig from the bottle as well.

“I stole it from my dads stash in the back. And that coke is one of the runts of the batch, it was too small to pack in the big crates. Figured I’d bring the whole thing since you seemed to know about it a couple weeks ago.” She said, smirking at the memory of their first awkward meeting.

“Have you tried it?” He asked, leaning back against the wall of the warehouse.

“No.” She said turning away from his gaze as she nervously brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s easy. Watch.” He said, unwrapping it and shaving off a sliver of the white substance with her knife. He sat it on top of the brick and made sure it was all crushed, forming it in a straight line.

He handed her the brick carefully as she held it up towards his face, him inhaling the powder through his nose in one fell swoop.

“You want me to shove that shit up my nose? Are you mad?” She asked, giggling as she took another swig from the rum.

“Yeah. Can’t hide from everything love.” He said, his words hitting home probably more than he realized.

“Alright, if I die, my fathers gonna have your head on a spike.” She said.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He said, preparing a smaller amount of the drug and holding it up to where she could inhale it through her nose. Her nostril burned as she did so, the foreign particles lacing their way through her system.

She laughed and shook her head, wiping her nose of any excess powder as she looked up at Michael who was chuckling slightly.

“That was so odd. I’m not doing that again. Not right now anyway.” She said, handing him the bottle of rum as she curled up next to him. It had only been about a month since they’d met, but even then, their interactions became more frequent.

Over the next few weeks, it was as if they’d known each other for years the way they got on. His aunt Polly eventually seeing a spark in his eye that wasn’t there before, and the same went for Alfie.

“You’ve met someone. I can tell.” Polly said one night, catching him coming in drunk on more than one occasion.

“Yeah I did. Tommy can’t do anything about it. It’s not his concern so don’t go telling him.” He said as he stumbled into the house.

As Michael grappled with the weight of seeing an adversaries daughter, Y/N had gradually moved things into her apartment with the help of her driver, all under her fathers nose. But she knew that once her room was more vacant, he’d catch on. Knowing if the blinders didn’t anger him enough, her leaving suddenly surely would.

One night after a drunken date with her mystery boyfriend, Alfie confronted her. Holding the small brick they’d chipped away at over the previous weeks.

“Oi! You wanna explain this? No daughter of mine is going to be sneaking drugs in me house. Do you really think I’m dumb? Cuz I guarantee you I’m not. This can’t happen. Not under my roof.” He said, lighting his cigar.

“Well if you didn’t want to pack it anyway I thought I might as well put it to good use. But uh, I’ll be sneaking it under me own roof from now on. I’ve bought a place if you couldn’t already tell from barging in my room to find that.” She said, folding her arms like she often did when she was frustrated.

Alfie stepped closer to her, his eyes not leaving hers as she barely flinched.

“I’ll find out who you’re doing all this for. Once I do, you’ll wish ya never stole a thing.” He said, walking towards his chair he usually sat on in their grand living room.

Y/N shook her head and chuckled to herself, stomping off towards her room. Her mind raced as she thought about what to do, grabbing what was left of her clothes and hurling them into her suitcases, deciding to leave the house for good in the morning.

Alfie sighed and sat back in his chair as he heard Y/N rummaging around upstairs. The sweet girl he helped raise all of a sudden wanting to leave the nest. 

It seemed like everything was fine in their lives until the peaky fucking blinders waltzed into his shop. Not caring who they destroyed as long as they got their money, their rum, or their drugs.

[heliads]

Cherry Bomb

You and Peter Maximoff hate each other. Loathing doesn’t even begin to describe the sheer dislike you have for each other. So why would Peter be so troubled when you were injured in a fight?

masterlist

You breathe in and out slowly, doing your best to focus. Your gaze is riveted on your hands, and under your watchful eye a small spark blossoms to life on the tips of your fingers. You squint in concentration and the spark grows into a flame, dancing along your hand. Grinning, you start to let down your guard, and the flame grows larger and larger, reaching its blazing tendrils up to the sky.

There’s a sudden sound behind you, and you lose your treasured focus. The fire spirals out of control, jumping to double its previous height. Cursing, you shake your head and try to clamp down the flames, watching as they slowly shrink down. Once the fire is gone, you whirl around in anger to face the source of your sudden disturbance.

“What was that for?” Peter Maximoff just laughs. He had appeared right behind you, using his powers of speed to startle you. “I thought you were working on control, Cherry Bomb. Looks like that still needs some work.” With that, he speeds off again, leaving you to grumble angrily after him.

See, you and Peter have hated each other since the second you arrived at Xavier’s School. It was pretty obvious that you had to be there- you barely had any control over your mutation, which allowed you to manipulate fire. Although it was pretty amazing, you needed a lot of help to make sure that you didn’t burn down whatever was closest to you.

You hadn’t hated Peter at first, nor he you. He just seemed like another student at the school, and the two of you never really crossed paths. Once it became apparent that you’d need a lot of help, though, Peter had transitioned to not giving you much thought to dedicating a good part of his day to tormenting you. 

You suppose he had a few reasons not to like you, such as his friends spending a lot of time helping you meant that they spent less time with him, and he kept insisting that you were a danger to the school and shouldn’t be there. You, on the other hand, hated Peter because he hated you, and because he had given you the nickname ‘Cherry Bomb’, which you absolutely despise. Peter had been pretty proud of the nickname, saying that it suited you because you were likely to destroy everything at a moment’s notice, but you couldn’t stand it.

When Xavier calls you into his office, you assume he’s heard about your momentary loss of control over your powers and wants to talk about it. You slump down into a seat in front of him, ready for another lecture, but he just adopts a faint smile. “I’m not here to admonish you, Y/N, in fact just the opposite. Let’s wait for the others to arrive and I will explain further.” Knowing that you’re not going to get yelled at, you relax a little bit.

Eventually, Jean, Mystique, Scott, Storm, and Peter all file into the room. The Professor laces his hands together on top of the desk and starts speaking to the group. “There’s been news of a disturbance in a town not far from here. Apparently some mutant with the ability to grow in size and strength was kicked out of town for his powers, and decided to take revenge by attempting to destroy everything. He’ll come back in an hour’s time, and I believe that we should be there to stop him.”

Everyone agrees, and Xavier leads you all to an awaiting plane. On the ride over, most of you remain silent, with Peter sending the occasional glare to you, which you return with equal animosity. 

You land in a small town, and it is quickly obvious as to how you’re supposed to find the rogue mutant- simply follow the trail of destruction. You and your friends soon come across the man, who has chosen to grow to the size of a giant and wreak havoc on the town. Battle plans are quickly exchanged, and you all set off to your respective positions for the fight.

Your task is to light fires on the giant, thus distracting him from the town. You race towards him, igniting your hands in a blaze that you launch his way. The giant roars in agony, turning away from the buildings to focus on you. Gulping, you throw more fire his way, but you’re so intent on finishing your part of the plan that you don’t notice the giant’s arm swinging towards you. 

When his rocky fist collides with you, the breath is instantly knocked from your lungs and you are thrown into a brick wall several yards away. You find you can’t stand up or find the energy to move at all, and you can only watch as blackness rushes in from all around you.

You’re only aware of a few sensations- pain from your head, after it hit the wall. Blood, trickling down from your wounds. Then, arms lifting you up off of the ground. There’s a worried face above you, one with silver hair that seems all too familiar. The boy holding you starts to run, faster than you can even blink. Before you know it, he’s standing at a crossroads, looking left and right as if to see which way he needs to go. You must have moved a little, for the silver-haired boy looks down at you, and you realize he looks absolutely terrified. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.” He starts running again, and moving at such high speeds knocks you into unconsciousness once more.

When you come to, you are still being carried in the boy’s arms, but he’s speaking to someone. Distantly, you realize you’re back at Xavier’s School. “You have to heal her. She needs help- she was hurt pretty bad. Promise me she’ll be alright!” After receiving the necessary promise of safety, the boy finally allows your body to be taken from him, but not before you notice the fear lacing his voice and the look of panic as he watches you be carried away from him.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been lying in the hospital bed, but the bright light of morning is shining when you finally gather the strength to open your eyes. A student is standing next to you, checking a few readouts. You blink, trying to focus, and you realize that the student is Jean. Your friend smiles when she notices that you’re awake, and sits down next to you.

“How are you feeling, Y/N? You took a pretty hard hit.” You cough tiredly. “I’ve been better. Were you able to subdue that giant?” Jean laughs. “You’ve been unconscious for three days, and the first thing you ask about is the fight? Typical. Yes, we got him under control, with no small amount of help from you.” You relax at that, but then look at Jean curiously. “How did I get here so fast? We had to take a plane to get to that village, how was I here in time to get help?”

Jean grins at you, and the satisfied gleam in her eyes makes you more than a little worried. “Well, none other than your favorite mutant, Peter. The second he saw you hurt, he raced over to you and ran all the way back to school with you in his arms. We didn’t even have to ask him, he just did it without thinking. I should tell him you’re awake, actually. He’s been stressing every second you’ve been unconscious and I think the Professor had to tell him directly to go to class, or else he would have been here all day too.”

You look confusedly at Jean. “That doesn’t make sense- Peter hates me and I hate him. Why would he be so interested in my wellbeing? Last time I checked, he was doing everything in his power to get me removed from the school so he could be rid of me.” Jean just smirks again. “I guess we all have our own motivators.” With that, she turns to answer a beckoning student, leaving you to wonder what on earth she’s talking about.

A few hours later, it has been determined that you are well enough to leave your hospital bed and go back to your classes. It feels great to be up and walking again, after so long lying down. A few friends wave to you in greeting, but you’re headed on a decisive path to one person in particular.

When Peter Maximoff notices you approaching him, he pauses his music and tucks his hands casually in his pockets. “Looks like Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake. I’ve been treasuring these Cherry Bomb- free moments, but I guess all good things have to come to an end.” You feel yourself bristle at his comments, but you can’t help but notice dark rings under his eyes and that he looked more than a little relieved to see you alive and well.

“Whatever you say, Peter. Look, I have to ask you something- why were you so worried about me? You treat me like I’m your worst enemy in the world, but Jean says you dropped everything to carry me back to the school when I got hurt. What’s with the big change?” When Peter hears what you have to say, his carefree expression quickly shuts down and is replaced with the usual malice. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but I was just trying to help. Is it that out of the question that I might actually do something good? I mean, I know you’re sick of me, but come on.”

You take an involuntary step back when Peter raises his voice. “Okay, calm down. I’m just messing with you. No need to get upset.” Peter just rolls his eyes. “Of course you were. Everything’s a joke to you anyway, that’s why you can’t control your powers that well, Cherry Bomb. You just don’t care enough.” That struck a nerve, and you look at Peter with hurt. “I didn’t ask for these powers! I didn’t ask for any of this! How long will it take for you to realize that your friends, and your fellow students, and everyone in this school wants me here! I guess the only problem is-” You stop talking, realizing that you’re taking things too far. 

Peter, however, has already guessed what you’re about to say. “The only problem is me? Of course. Well, don’t worry. If me being here is a problem, I’ll solve it for you.” Your heart drops in your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean, Peter?” Peter’s laugh is cold, and the hurt within it breaks your heart. “I’ll go. Doesn’t that make you happy?” Your eyes widen and you shake your head mutely, but Peter just fixes you with one cold stare and speeds off into the distance.

You feel horrible about what just happened. You immediately head to Peter’s dorm, but he isn’t there. Same thing with his classes, and with his friends, and with any part of the school he would usually haunt. Eventually, you turn to Jean, frantic with worry. “I think I lost him. I think I made him leave.” Jean shakes her head, trying to comfort you but to no avail. “Peter’s probably just at the store or something. Once he cools down, he’ll come back. He’s done stuff like this before, and it never lasts more than a few hours.”

Jean is wrong, though. That night, no one sees Peter, and his dorm room is empty. The next day, he doesn’t show up for his classes, or the next day, or the next. You’re forced to live with the fact that Peter, the boy who saved your life, is gone because of what you said. It doesn’t feel good at all.

One week later, you’re listlessly clicking through stations on the battered old radio in your room when your focus is drawn to one frantic reporter. He’s talking about some freak storm in a distant corner of the country, and you realize with sickening dread that it’s happening right outside Peter’s old neighbourhood. Before you know it, you’re grabbing your gear and the keys to one of Xavier’s cars. It’s time to go find Peter.

By the time you reach Peter’s neighbourhood, you realize that there’s no mere storm damaging the area. It’s another mutant- this time, one that can control the clouds. He’s enveloped the town in fog as dark as night, making it impossible to see anything. You quickly light a fire on your palm, and use it to guide your way through the town.

You walk slowly to the center of the storm, keeping your bearings by walking towards the darkest of the clouds. Sure enough, you find yourself on the outskirts of the eye of the storm, and you realize with horror that there are two figures inside: the mutant, laughing with manic glee, and Peter. The enemy mutant is making some grandiose speech about how he’ll rip the town to shreds. “The worst thing is, no one could stop me. I mean, who’s going to do anything about it? You?”

You find yourself speaking. “He’s not alone.” With that, you extend your arms, flames dancing around them and growing until they’re several feet tall. You step into the clearing, and the mutant looks terrified of you. Peter, on the other hand, smiles, and the two of you charge the enemy mutant.

It doesn’t take long to take care of the cloud controller, and before you know it, he’s running as fast as he can in the opposite direction after swearing that he would never pull a stunt like this again. You extinguish your flames, and realize that Peter is walking towards you. Before he can say anything, you start speaking quickly. “I’m sorry, Peter. Truly I am. I never meant anything I said, and we need you back at the school.”

Peter just nods. “I’m sorry too, Y/N.” You smile at that, and Peter looks at you in confusion. “You called me Y/N. Not ‘Cherry Bomb’.” Peter laughs. “You know, I can still call you Cherry Bomb if you want.” You shake your head, pretending to be horrified. “After I saved your life? Absolutely not!” Peter puts on a mock frown. “As I recall, I saved your life first. That means we’re equals, and I can do whatever I want.” You can’t help but laugh at that. “Maybe so.” You extend a hand to him. “Head back to school with me?” Peter smiles, and takes your hand, pulling you close. “What else would I do?”

[theladyismyshepard]

Myra

@frustratinglyinquisitive Here, have my first (self-indulgent) redhead one-shot :)

You slowly blink your eyes open before closing them again, too bleary to bother. You rely only on your sense of hearing alone, and all you can hear are the familiar drippings coming from somewhere adjacent to you. You hoped it was a leak from some pipe, but you didn’t believe it to be true. After awhile, you couldn’t bring yourself to hope for anything at all.

Not when you had met a blonde who smiled so wide that it could’ve passed for deranged. She was one of the first things you had opened your eyes to when you first awoke in your cage. Her eyes were golden and shining beneath the dancing flames of torchlight. They were also as feral as her smile was.

There was blood smeared across her chin as it dribbled from her lips, and you couldn’t help but realize it was fresh with how bright and liquefied it was as a drop hit her chest. You could practically smell the iron on her breath from where she stood outside your cage — or was it all around you? Just as reality set into your body and joints enough to feel the pounding headache and jolting pains wracking your frame, she spoke.

“Not yet,”

What?

She couldn’t contain a giggle, and you realize your chapped throat still managed to whisper your thought out. She slowly withdrew herself, her fingers uncurling from around the bars. When your eyes zeroed in on the sickle in her hands, your stomach dropped as your hope began to quickly dwindle as she disappeared into the shadows.

Your spirit wasn’t lifted when you heard the buzzing of insects after some time. How long have I been here? It was long enough for the torch to have burnt itself out and for the extra bit of chill to bite into your bones.

The buzzing grew louder and closer and suddenly stopped. It was dead silent except for the drip drip drip and just when it became deafening, slow and deliberate steps cut through. Your breath caught in your throat, and got stuck there as your eyes strained to see through the dark.

A spark had you slamming your eyes closed, too sensitive from the prolonged darkness, but light danced behind your eyelids, painting them red. You heard humming as you briefly squeezed your eyelids shut tighter before rapidly blinking them open, taking in the smirking face of a brunette as she stood over your body, inside the cage, and face just as plastered with blood.

You scrambled back as far as you could go before your back collided with brick. Her eyes were just as golden as the blonde’s but there was little to no emotion shining in them. Her smirk widened however, and you could’ve sworn you saw her nostrils flare.

“You smell so delicious, I don’t think I can wait until dinner.” she moaned out.

You could feel the fear morph your face at her comment, and she laughed brightly, thoroughly entertained. When it died down, her face shifted into into a blank look, her eyes cutting into you.

“What makes you special, I wonder...”

Her eyes narrowed, her gaze intense, but she took her leave without coming any closer, and it left you without knowing how to feel or what to think.

What makes you so special...

You didn’t exactly feel too special as you lied there on the cold ground behind thick bars. As the torchlight slowly snuffed itself out, fear weaved itself between the spaces of your rib cage, and nestled firmly around your heart, leaving you breathless. The tension that settled into your bones left you rigid and achey and unable to move. Your temple pounded, leaving you incapable of even lifting your head.

Drip, drip, drip...

The image of the women’s bloody faces flickered across your mind’s eye and it had you doing a mental check of your own body, surveying for damage of any kind such as missing limbs. It nearly split your head in two to try and recall what had led you to this place,so you just lay there, an incoherent slump.

You didn’t have a keen sense of time seeing as you couldn’t tell the difference between hours and minutes anymore. There were no windows to indicate whether it was day or night, and there was no way to track how long you had been stuck.

Drip, drip, drip...

It was all you could hear for the longest, the consistent dripping echoing off the walls. You began to tremble as the thought occurred that you would soon be spilling and dripping along the dirty floor as well. You swallowed thickly, mouth and throat so dry that it was an actual struggle that landed you into a coughing fit. It wracked your body so hard that it felt as though one of your ribs might burst through your skin; You were coughing so hard that you didn’t even really notice the room light up for a third time.

Tears streamed down your face as you finally were able to regain some composure. You opened your eyes, small droplets clinging to your eyelashes, and saw a glass hovering in front of your face. You were so thrown for a loop that you just sat there in a daze, staring at the glass of — Wait is that water?

Your gaze slowly trailed up the hand that was holding the cup, and your eyes met a third pair of golden eyes that took your breath away in a different fashion than that of the others. They seemed soft, as was the gentle upward curve of her smile. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of blood on any part of this woman’s body and attire.

“Hello,”

You released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, and as you went to take another one, it felt easier and lighter than before.

“H-Hi,” you quickly stammered, unwilling to anger her.

“Drink this... please,” the redhead ordered gently, pressing the glass forward to give you the hint.

Your fingers grasped the glass, and her index finger grazed the side of yours before withdrawing and watching your movements. You maintained eye contact with her even as you brought it to your nose and sniffed cautiously. Instead of taking offense, she giggled knowingly.

Your chest felt light and your stomach felt warm at the sound, almost as if you were about to vomit out butterflies. Again, your eyes connected as you slowly took a sip. The water was lukewarm, but at least it was water and it felt refreshing and rejuvenating on your parched tongue. You greedily sipped until there was nothing more for you, not even a drop.

“Oh, my,” she sighed, her hand on her cheek. “I knew you would need to be watered sooner.”

If you didn’t know any better, it almost sounded like she was upset. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she began playing with her fingers. Her eyes radiated warmth and concern as she ducked her head to look closely at you.

Drip, drip, drip

“Where am I?” You demanded, though the tremor that shook your voice had you more or less begging.

“This is Castle Dimitrescu, it belongs to my mother as well as my sisters and I, and unfortunately this is the dungeon.” she said, shifting uncomfortably, a grimace intact the whole time.

Drip, dri-

The dripping stopped almost instantly, leaving you in absolute silence then. Maybe the leak stopped? Or maybe the blood had finally run dry. You shivered.

“My name is Myra,” offered the redhead, an apologetic smile reaching her eyes.

“Am I going to die here?” You couldn’t help but question, cutting straight to the chase.

For the first time since you met Myra, her features hardened. She slowly knelt before you, unaffected by the dirt pressing and smearing into her black robe. The intensity had her golden eyes glowing as she stared deep into you. Her hand reached towards you and despite flinching hard enough that it jolted your whole body, Myra still moved until her hand was cupping your cheek.

“I told my sisters you are not to be harmed, and you will not be.”

You were like a cornered animal, but the thumb brushing your cheek had you feeling something you hadn’t felt in God knows when: hope. The dread weighing down your spirit and stress weighing down your body had eased the slightest bit, allowing you to breathe properly.

“And your mother?” you pushed, remembering her words from moments ago.

Myra cocked her head to the side as she pondered the good point you had brought up. It also had the blonde’s words reverberating through your head.

Not yet...

“Mother would never upset me by killing my pet.”

It rolled off her tongue with such ease that you almost didn’t register what she had said, but when you did, you had to do a double take. Pet? Her words from earlier that you had let go of suddenly popped into your head.

“You needed to be watered sooner.”

You wanted to argue, lash out and scream that you weren’t an animal, you were a person but then again, you have a faint idea of how they treat humans, so it wasn’t too much of a reasonable argument. But the way she had your face cradled showed that she thought something more of you than others. Myra was your best bet at survival, plus it helped that despite the circumstances, she was a sight for sore eyes.

You could hear phantom drips in the background, but the thumb caressing your cheek caught you carefully by the chin and reinforced eye contact. Her calming aura had you relaxing and going slack beneath her touch, something that had her smiling so wide you were afraid her face would split. If you looked closely, you could see hope swirling in Myra’s eyes as well.

“Don’t worry, you are mine.”

It didn’t sound so threatening, and in fact you were nodding along.

“I’m yours,”

[jamie-leah]

War of Wolves (19)

Season 1

Episode 19 - The Search Begins

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2530

Warnings: Violence, injuries, manhandling, medical talk, swearing, POV Changes

A/N: Here's another! Late as usual I know, but my life has taken an unexpected turn. However, lets hope these updates will not be more regular. There will be POV changes and I know Bucky's part is third person but I call it Bucky's POV because it's easier for everyone to follow! Enjoy Lovelies! Feedback is always encouraged!

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BUCKY’S POV

There’s a pounding in his head that hasn’t stopped since the crash. As his senses start to come back Bucky notices, he’s lying on concrete, the cold seeping into his bones.

About the same time, he realises he’s on the floor he remembers what happened. Bucky shoots up from the floor, causing dizziness but he didn’t care. The only thought he had was you.

As Bucky looks around, he sees the chair you were in empty and the room also empty. Morning had started to break, and he curses himself for losing precious hours.

As Bucky starts to make his way out of the building his body aches as his head keeps pounding in time with his heart.

He finally finds an exit and walks until he comes to a main road. Bucky looks around and breathes a sigh of relief that he knows where he is. With no phone or anything to communicate with anyone, Bucky walks.

He follows the main road as his thoughts race. He can’t help picturing you with Isaac and it makes him sick. The worry for you and the anger at himself and Isaac is almost enough to bring him to his knees, but he said he would find you and he would. He would die before he ever stopped looking.

Bucky felt like he had been walking forever but it was probably only about twenty-five minutes. The older building coming into view. He picks up the pace until he comes to the gates.

Bucky walks right in catching the eye of two men. They look at each other alarmed by the way he looks but Bucky simply says, “go get him”.

The one runs off as the other stays by the gate. Bucky keeps walking afraid that if he stops, he won’t be able to get back up.

As Bucky reaches the door Darren steps out looking concerned. Bucky clenches his jaw before saying, “I need your help”.

YOUR POV

You’re cold. You smell damp. You hear murmuring.

You shift and groan as your eyes protest being opened. You feel what must be springs digging into your back as you make sense of what you’re seeing.

Its quite a dark room, the ceiling old brick and as you follow it the walls are brick too. You sit up fast and groan. You notice you’re sitting on a mattress and metal frame.

You stand up and gasp as your bare feet touch stone. When you get over the shock you notice metal bars covering an archway, the only exit to this room.

It took you a while to comprehend what you were seeing but you finally realised that you were in a dungeon. You’re incredibly confused as voices get louder.

You walk closer to the bars, your feet becoming numb due to the cold until two figures step into view. It doesn’t take you long to see that its Harry and Isaac.

You look at the both of them, “where the hell am I?”.

Harry’s British accent comes out loud in the small space, “This is an estate of mine. I had a lot of extra room here, so I let Isaac renovate a few of his labs here”.

You screw up your face, “am I in a dungeon?”.

Harry chuckles, “my estate is essentially a castle, this place has many hidden places, this small dungeon being one”.

Isaac speaks next, watching you carefully, “no one knows you’re here. It’s just me, Harry and one of my men. The rest of the men don’t know you’re here, so Bucky definitely doesn’t know you’re here. Don’t cause me any trouble”.

You hold his gaze lifting your chin, “he’ll find me”.

Isaac smirks, “no. He won’t”. That’s when he pushes some type of clothing through the bars, “wear that. I have some initial tests I want to run as soon as possible. If you don’t have it on by the time my man comes to get you, he’ll put it on you himself”.

Without another word from either of them they leave. You pick up the clothing and see that it’s a hospital gown.

Its freezing in the room due to the stone so you don’t really want to put it on, but you don’t want to risk anyone else putting it on for you. You strip and quickly put the gown on. You sit on the edge of the bed and wait.

BUCKY’S POV

Darren didn’t even blink when he agreed to help in any way he could. The first thing that Bucky did was call Steve.

“Hello?”, Steve’s voice sounded tired, strained.

Bucky was just relieved to hear his voice, “Steve, its Bucky-“.

Steve interrupts him, “Bucky?! Where are you?! Are you hurt? I saw the car-“.

Bucky just manages to get out, “Steve, he took her”.

There was a heavy silence for a few moments, “where are you?”.

Bucky’s head was still hurting, “Darren’s”.

“Me and Sam will be there as soon as we can”, Steve waits a second before hanging up.

Darren comes back with a woman with a full looking rack. Bucky just sits there on Darren expensive looking sofa.

She comes over without a word and starts attending to the cut on Bucky’s head. Darren sits opposite Bucky and waits for the woman to finish. Before she leaves, she hands Bucky some tablets and water.

As Bucky takes them, Darren asks, “What happened Buck?”.

Bucky stares into space picturing the events as he tells Darren, “Isaac ambushed me and Y/N. I didn’t even see it coming. Rammed straight into us. I held em’ off as much as I could but there were too many of them and Y/N refused to run”.

Darren’s eyebrows raise, “brave woman”.

Bucky’s mouth twitches despite the circumstances, “stubborn woman…He took us to a warehouse about half hour from here. He was gonna kill me, but Y/N convinced him not to. He knocked me out and took her”.

Darren’s jaw clenched, “what do you need from me?”.

YOUR POV

It took about twenty minutes for you to hear footsteps and for another figure to come up to the bars. You can’t make much out other than he’s blonde and tall.

He opens the bar door and his gruff voice comes out, “move”.

“Where’s my please?”, you don’t know if its you being brave, stubborn, or stupid, but the comment comes out just the same.

The guy comes marching in and grabs your arm. He yanks so hard that your cry echoes in the room and you’re afraid he’ll rip it out of the socket.

You fight against him, fear of what Isaac has in store finally kicking in. But it doesn’t matter, you can’t get a grip with your bare feet and your punches bounce off him.

He leads you down narrow corridors and you lose track until he stops abruptly at a wooden door. He opens it one handed and drags you in.

Its like you stepped into a different reality. The room was white, and the floor was tiled. It was like you had entered a hospital. It made the knot in your stomach tighten painfully.

Isaac was sitting at a desk in a white coat. Your eyes slide from him to the glass window in front of him that looked into a room with an MRI machine.

Isaac talks with his back still to you, “put her on the table”.

The man starts backing you up, but you keep resisting. You manage to clip the guy in the face, his grip loosening enough to break free for only a second. Before you can get very far, he pulls you by your hair and throws you into the table.

Your stomach collides with the edge of the table and knocks the wind right out of your lungs. You double over and end up falling to the floor trying to suck in air.

Isaac doesn’t even care. He just walks over calmly as you struggle to breathe and injects something into your arm. You don’t remember anything after that.

BUCKY’S POV

The pounding in his head hadn’t stopped. The dizziness was still there, but Bucky couldn’t keep still. He was pacing in front of Darren worrying about you and wondering how he was going to find you.

There was a knock on the door that made Bucky turn around in his pacing. One of Darren’s workers had guided Steve and Sam to the room.

Steve took big strides over to Bucky, pulling him into a hug, closely followed by Sam. When Sam steps back he says, “we’re gonna get her back”.

Steve nods before asking, “what happened?”.

So, Bucky tells them everything. Once Bucky finishes Steve asks, “you got people on the inside, right? You planted people in Isaac’s organisation a while ago?”.

Bucky nods, “I’ll reach out to them, ask if they’ve seen her or heard anything about where he’s got her. There were also cameras at the warehouse he took us to, pull the footage and see if it tells us something”.

Sam holds his hand up, “we’ll do all of that and whatever else you need us to do, but we need to take you back and get you some medical attention”.

Bucky starts to shake his head, but Steve talks next, “Sam’s right. You can reach out to your informants in the car on the way back home, but you need to get your head checked out. You’re no good to Y/N if you’re injured”.

Bucky nods frustrated with how right they were and how much time its going to waste, “okay, lets get moving then”.

Bucky starts moving towards the door and everyone follows. Steve and Sam get in the car and Bucky follows. Before he closes the door, Darren says, “I’ve got a few people I can reach out to. I’ll let you know if I hear anything”.

Bucky nods, grateful, before slamming the door. Sam hands him a phone to start making calls as Steve speeds back home.

YOUR POV

It was like you were repeating history. You wake up groggy again and you shift as springs dig into your back.

You take in your cell and start to get up before the world tilts causing you to crash back onto the bed. That’s when Isaac speaks, making your heart race, “you’re going to feel dizzy and you’ll probably throw up soon. I need you to rest because I’ll need to take a few more tests in a few hours”.

You manage to murmur, “fuck you”.

Isaac chuckles, “the harder you fight the more I’m going to enjoy breaking your spirit. There’s a bucket in the corner of the room for when you throw up”.

You listen to his footsteps walking away, loud to the throbbing of your head. You try focusing on your breathing, but it wasn’t long before you felt saliva flood your mouth and your stomach clench.

You stumble out of bed and towards the corner. You nearly fall two times before making it to the bucket and heaving. Not much comes out as you stay hunched over the bucket for about half an hour just heaving.

By the time it stops your body is shaking and you have to crawl back over to the bed. You get back on and curl in on yourself, falling asleep to forget.

BUCKY’S POV

By the time they get back to the house Bucky has got in touch with everyone that he can think of, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

He gets out the car more frustrated than ever and once inside he makes a beeline for the office. That is until Steve blocks his path, “I don’t think so. Med wing. Now”.

Bucky doesn’t fight as Steve escorts him towards the medical wing. He asks softly, “how is Peggy doing? I can’t believe I missed everything”.

Steve smiles, “she’s doing great. She’s at the safe house with the kids thinking of a name for our boy as we speak”.

Bucky nods, lost in thoughts, “good, that’s good”.

Steve looks over concerned, “Buck…”.

Bucky reaches for the med wing doors, “go and get the footage from the warehouse and get in contact with anyone I missed in the car while I get my head sorted”. Bucky didn’t give Steve a chance to say or ask whatever he was going to say as he lets the doors close.

YOUR POV

You wake to the noise of the barred door scrapping against the stone floor. You don’t move from your foetal position on the bed.

It’s the blonde guy again, “move”.

Your body still feels weak and shaky. When your voice comes out you don’t recognise it, “go fuck yourself”.

You hear his heavy steps approaching and you brace yourself. Again, he yanks your arm and pulls you off the bed. You don’t expect it and can’t catch yourself in time before your hip and knee collide with the stone floor.

You yelp as pain radiates along your leg. As you try breathing through the pain, he takes advantage and manages to carry you most of the way without much fight from you.

He drops you on the table in the room and Isaac is waiting with another syringe. He wastes no time in using it as you feel the sting in your arm.

They both step back and you start to get off the table, but your limbs don’t listen. You try moving your legs, but you go nowhere. You try moving your arms but still you’re staring at the white ceiling.

Panic starts clawing in your chest as your eyes dart around the room as much as they can. You can feel the cool table underneath you but despite all your strength you can’t even make your fingers twitch.

You even go to ask Isaac what he did but your mouth wouldn’t open. Fear was gripping your racing heart as you hear your blood in your ears like the sea raging on the shore.

Isaac comes into view with a smile, “try not to panic, it wouldn’t do me any favours if you died. I needed to do an MRI with you awake, but I imagined you wouldn’t lay still for me, so I thought I’d make you”.

He nods to the blonde guy and he picks you up. He takes you into the next room and places you on the machine.

During the entire process you try to move, but nothing worked. The loss of control and feeling of helplessness made breathing difficult.

You decided to just close your eyes and picture Bucky. You picture him healthy and in one of his black suits. You try and imagine what he would say to you now. He’d probably cup your face and make your eyes look at his and say, “you’re strong, smart, and stubborn. I know you can do this until I get there, you just need to breathe Doll. Just breathe for me. I will find you”.

It was only when you opened your eyes that you realised a tear had escaped down the side of your cheek and into your hair.

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