#Lifting Gear Inspection

[dutestindustrial]

How often do you need to service your crane?

Listed below are some guidelines for how often cranes are to be serviced

1. Standby or infrequent service crane: Must be serviced annually, with an inspection once a year

This service class covers cranes used in installations such as public utilities, turbine rooms, motor rooms, transformer stations, and powerhouses, with precision in the handling of equipment at lower speeds with long, idle periods between required lifts. Capacity loads can be handled for the initial installation of equipment, and for infrequent maintenance as well.

2. Light service crane: Must be serviced annually, with an inspection once a year

This service class covers cranes used in repair shops, light assembly operations, service buildings, light warehousing, and more where service requirements are light, and speed is slow. Loads vary from no load to minimal load to occasional full-rated loads with 2-5 lifts per hour, averaging at 10 feet or 2.6 m per lift.

3.  Moderate service crane: Semi-annual servicing required, with inspections executed twice a year

This service class covers cranes used in paper mill machine rooms, machine shops, and more. The service requirements in these applications are rather moderate. In this type of service, the crane can handle loads at an average of 50% of the rated capacity, with around 5-10 lifts per hour, averaging at 15 feet, or 3 m, not over 50% of the lift at rated capacity.

4.  Heavy service crane: Semi-annual servicing required, with inspections executed twice in a year

This service class covers cranes used in heavy machine shops, fabrication plants, steel warehouses, foundries, container yards, lumber mills, and much more, in addition to standard duty buckets and magnet operations where heavy-duty productions take place. For this service application, loads that approach 50% of the rated capacity can be constantly handled during the working period. High speeds are desirable for this service type, with 10-20 lifts per hour, averaging at 15 feet, or 3 m, not exceeding 65% of the lift at rated capacity.

5.  Severe service crane: Quarterly servicing required, with inspections executed four times a year

The service class requires cranes that have the capacity to handle loads approaching rated capacity through its life. Applications can include buckets, magnets and magnet/bucket combination cranes for cement mills, lumber mills, scrap yard, container handling, fertilizer plants and more, with 20 or more lifts per hour at or near rated capacity.

6.  Continuous service crane: Quarterly servicing required, with inspections executed four times a year

This service class requires cranes capable of handling loads approaching rated capacity continuously under severe service conditions during its lifetime. Applications include custom-designed specialty cranes that are crucial for the performance of critical work tasks that affect total product facility.  These cranes provide the highest of reliability, with ease-of-maintenance and attention to detail.

Annual, semi-annual, and quarterly inspections are to be performed by crane inspectors with a minimum of 10,000 hours of experience that is related to the maintenance, repairs, inspection, and modification of equipment. 

Looking for crane inspection and lifting equipment inspection needs? Contact Dutest today. 

Dutest undertakes Inspection, Testing and Certification work on all lifting equipment, plant and machinery, all types of cranes, passenger lifts and escalators, goods lifts, forklift trucks, MEWPS and cherry pickers, lifting structures, anchorage points, lifting beams. We also verify load monitoring equipment and undertake both destructive and non-destructive inspection work including weld inspection. We can provide proof load and initial testing if required and services such as bolt torque checks. All these services can be undertaken at our client’s premises, our own premises or remotely if required.

[bbsworld1]

—————————————————————————————————————

“Master?”

————————————————————————

tags: kissing, smut, making out, friends to lovers, dry humping, oral sex, vaginal fingering, riding

summary: After finishing a task your master had given you, you complain to Qimir. Considering you should be your masters acolyte, he’s refusing… with Mae around it seems like he's almost replacing you. Qimir reassures you that everything is alright… but how does he know how your master feels?

————————————————————————

After a long errand run you stop by Qimir, your best friend to boast about your tiring and annoying day. “I should just give up, it’s not like he needs me anymore.” you groan, walking into Qimirs shop. “I’m sick of Mae stealing the spotlight, I mean… I was the original for christ sake.” sounding like a child throwing a fuss. “I know I sound stupid but he should acknowledge my loyalty for once.”

“How are you so sure?” Qimir lifted his head from the machinery he was inspecting.

“All I do is basically finish his grocery list like i’m his mother or something while Mae is out doing my work.” You drop your gear and head over to the seat beside Qimir. “Seems like you’re just giving him a helping hand, I mean look at the bright side, atleast you don’t have to do the dirty work.” Qimir puts down what he was working on to give his attention to you. “Yeah yeah I get it but the whole point was that I wanted to be by his side and help him, I don’t mind doing the dirty work.” You say feeling hurt by how committed you’ve always been to your master. You flash Qimir a look of hopelessness.

Tears slowly begin to form, you close your eyes and take a deep breath to hide it but Qimir catches it. “Hey, hey listen… you are one of the most highly skilled assassin’s don’t talk yourself down like that.” He rested a hand on your thigh for a moment, you didn’t catch the faint blush on his cheeks. “You don’t need to end it now.” Qimir says. “What if he wants me to? It’s obvious enough he has better help. If he keeps training Mae and sending me off, sooner or later i’ll be done for good.” You say, hopeless.

“Trust me, he needs you now more than ever.” Qimir says breathlessly.

“How would you know?” I say leaning closer to him, remembering how Qimir had lightly brushed your thigh just a few moments ago. You had always had a thing for Qimir but you couldn’t ruin your friendship, not in the middle of training to become your masters acolyte.

“because…” Qimir trailed off nervously. “you’re an amazing woman… strongest one I know, gentle and kind and I know he sees your potential to become even better.”

Qimir always knew what to say to make you blush. “Yeah?” You say, out of breath from the close proximity as your bodies grew closer and closer. “Yeah, I always know what someone is thinking.”

“Then what am I thinking about right now?” Tilting your head and flicking between Qimirs lips and eyes. “I think… you want to kiss me.” was the last words whispered from Qimir as he closes the gap. You both slowly ease into the kiss, you slowly move to straddle Qimir in the chair, pressing your bodies against each other. You place one hand on the side of his neck and another dragging through his hair. Qimir lets out a slight whimper as you tug lightly on his hair. You feel Qimir swipe his tongue swipe across your lip, pleading for entrance. You open your mouth allowing him to explore deeper. Qimir breaks the kiss to lift you and carry you onto the random sofa in the back of the shop.

He sets you on top of him, straddling him with his hands on your hips. You bend to place your head in the crook of his neck giving light sucks and nibbling right below his ear. “shit sunshine…” he breathes, eyes filled with lust. Just as you were about to continue you sensed a familiarity with the nickname… until it hit you… “master?” You say.

He smiles with his forehead rested against yours.

“So you finally figured it out,” he grins.

I just kissed my master. The Qimir i’ve known forever was my master. I smack him on the arm. “Hey!” Qimir says, “It was going so well.” “Why are you giving me these tasks? I’m supposes to be your acolyte and you’ve listened to me complain about you this whole time?” I say, ashamed of how I had been acting earlier. “Y/n, I can’t have you as my acolyte because i’m afraid of loosing you and I don’t know what I would do with myself if you were ever hurt.” He admits.

I let a sly smile pass me hearing his words. “Come here.” He says, “why don’t we finish what we started hmm?” He says as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. “mhm, i’d like that.” You say. This kiss is more passionate, filled with deep feelings and meaning.

You slowly begin to rock your hips against Qimirs growing erection protruding beneath the thing pieces of clothing he had on. He threw his head back and let out a strained groan, giving you a clear shot to attack his neck.

You slowly slide your hands beneath his shirt feeling his soft skin as his breathing quickened and his chest rose up and down quickly. “Just hurry up, please, I can’t take much of it longer.” Qimir breathes out. You lift his shirt over his head to reveal his sculpted body, running your hands through his body, “What do you need baby?” You say, out of breath. “Please..” He says. “Please what?” You say. “Touch me.” He says.

You place your hand over his erection. He winces and bucks his hips to get some friction, you palm him through his pants. “Come on, don’t tease me like that..” he says, sucking in a breath. “Patience.” You say.

He reaches to lift your shirt and you pull it over and throw it to the side. Qimir slowly analyzes your body, “beautiful.” He says, at a loss of words. Your blush becomes more prominent. Qimir reaches up to unclip your bra from the back in one swift movement. One hand reaches up to your breast to fondle the skin, attaching his mouth to the other and sucking and nibbling on your nipple. You hiss, tightly grabbing at his hair. He hums leaving vibrations on your chest.

Qimir swiftly flips you onto your back with him looming over you. He leans in, trailing kisses down from your neck to the lining of your pants. He looks up with pleading eyes. “Please, I’ve been needing to taste you for so long sunshine.” He asks, practically begging. You couldn’t say no. “Of course.” You say.

He immediately pulls down your pants to reveal your panties, soaked from his previous actions. “So wet already, just for me.” he whispers, nudging his nose between your thighs.

He slowly kisses between each thigh, worshiping your body. He finally reaches your heat, slowly licking through the fabric. You moan in frustration. “Stop teasing.” You say. He ignores your moans as he slowly pulls down your panties agonizingly. Once they’re fully off he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you down, he began licking and sucking like you were his last meal. Your hand gripped his hair sending vibrations from his moans directly to your pussy.

His head was pressed between your shaking thighs as his hands held you firm against the edge of the couch. One hand held his head against you, nearly nose deep in your cunt. The other gripped the couch cushion so tight your knuckles went white.

“Qi…” Your moaning kept him going. He wanted to taste every bit of you left.

He slowly placed one finger into you, and you reacted instantly. Arching your back off the couch as he was fingering you and sucking on your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came.

He let you ride out your high on his tongue as your juices spilled out. “Fuck, you’re really good” You say in shock. “Looks like we have a problem, mind if i take care of that?” You say, pointing to the obvious bulge leaking precum from the fabric of his underwear.

“I need you.” Qimir says in a faint whisper, crawling up towards you. “You have me.” You say, flipping Qimir over and propping your hips right over his clothed cock. You move over to pull his underwear revealing his erect penis. You begin playing with the tip, tracing your finger around the slit. Your hand then makes its way along the shaft, stroking it. He lets out a breath. You continue like that for a bit. All you can see is the back of his head but you can tell his mouth is slightly opened, whining and whimpering.

“Please I need it.” He says, begging. “Want me to ride you?” You say. He leans in to kiss you, taking that as a yes. You grab his erect cock teasing it along your entrance. He lets out a low moan. “Stop teasing please…” He says, breathing heavy. You finally slide the tip in, adjusting to his size.

Qimir closes his eyes with his mouth hanging open.You begin swaying up and down, small gasps leaving your mouth each time you go down. Qimirs hands move to your thighs squeezing them, they then make their way up. He watches your breast bounce as you move up and down. You kiss him every now and again.

Knowing you can't last long on top you begin to speed up your pace before your legs give out due to exhaustion. The slaps of sounds your body makes when it comes in contact with his, combined with your moans and his gasps sound like a bizarre orchestra. Your legs ache and beads of sweat fall from your head onto his abdomen.

You keep that pace until you slowly start to feel your body and Qimirs tighten. You feel a sudden wave about to crash over you. As you begin to loose your pace, Qimir grabs your hips and bucks his hips into you, reaching the deepest parts of you. You gasp, tugging his hair one last time before you feel his throbbing cock before finally finishing in you. You continue the ride, finally finishing a few seconds after him. You clench as you milk his cock. Clutching each others sweaty bodies.

Your legs finally give out as you rest beside Qimir.

After catching your breaths, Qimir turns to face you, kissing your forehead and engulfing you in a hug. A way of saying 'I love you' without having to say it. It is moments like these where you wish you could freeze time.

“You know… I don’t really mind those little errands you put me up to after all.” You say with a smirk.

Qimir laughs, wrapping his arms around you, kissing you on your forehead. You slowly fall into a deep sleep.

“Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

[amaranthineghost]

| MATCHING PAJAMA PANTS AND LATE NIGHTS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando x reader

ꕥ summary: how lando spends the holiday season with his girlfriend.

ꕥ authors note: didn't know what type of christmas imagine to write tor lando so I just decided to do this <3 also I'm impatiently waiting for the mini vegas helmet of his I ordered (I'm just a teenage girl <3)

ꕥ warnings: suggestive words

THE HOLIDAYS WITH LANDO NORRIS consisted of a few must-do things. ever since he started dating her, there were things he had to do with every celebration, christmas being no exception.

MATCHING PAJAMAS AND LATE NIGHTS ON SNOWY ROADS

a good portion of the season was spent in the warmth of his mclaren, driving through snowstorms with the heat blasting and whatever music their hearts desired. they'd yell the lyrics at the top of their lungs, breaking into laughter with every voice crack and anytime they'd forget a word. lying on the hood of his car to stargaze on the outskirts of the city where light pollution hadn't yet touched the sky. all in their matching pajama pants.

if he didn't have as much money as he did, he'd surely have spent it all on matching sets for the two of them to wear all throughout the holiday season.

he adored the matching sets they wore together, smiles gracing his face as he stared at her lovingly as she wore the patterned pajamas he'd picked out. there was something so heart-warming to see her wearing the same thing he did.

he loved laying around the house in each other's presence, words unspoken would be exchanged through actions such as simply lifting the sherpa blanket one was under to invite the other into the comfort of their warmth, wrapping themselves in each other's arms or slipping into the same hoodie as she laid on his chest. they'd lay on their couch by the apartment window, watching the snow fall through the spot on the window they wiped with their hands.

decorating the christmas tree with ornaments passed down from generations, telling fond stories with each trinket and heirloom in their possession. it inevitably brought them closer to share such a peace of life and tradition with each other that they'd honor closely. he'd tell her stories of his childhood where he'd place various decorations on the tree, watching her inspect them in her hands. they'd been passed down from his parents to him to share with his love, though they'd visit his parents for a portion of the holidays.

ynusername

liked by landonorris and 32,283 others

ynusername I love the winter weather because I've got my love to keep me warm

view all 1,929 comments

oscarpiastri made me third wheel, but didn't even tag me.

ynusername we kind of forgot you were there

oscarpiastri yeah. I know.

user not them forgetting about poor oscar in the backseat 😭

landonorris he's fine

SKIING AND SNOWBALL FIGHTS

trips to various snowy countries and vast mountains were inevitable, despite lando traveling quite often for his career. he'd love ski trips before and even more so with her involved. he'd help her gear up, teaching her the way to do it without falling on her face so she'd be able to keep up with him. starting out, he'd rush to her every fall, cooing at even the slightest bruise forming, kissing it with his cold lips. but as she improved, she could find him bent over laughing, hand on his stomach before he'd trek his way to give her a helping hand.

late nights after skiing turned to snowball fights in the dark between the group that shared the cabin. lando often brushed off his girlfriend's attempts to give him a jacket, claiming he'd be fine. he'd end up getting sick and she'd be the one to take care of him.

landonorris

liked by ynusername and 502,827 others

landonorris ouch ☹️

view all 5,102 comments

ynusername I won the snowball fight

landonorris you only won because you nearly gave me a concussion

oscarpiastri she nearly did us a favour there

user why does lando never wear a coat 😭

ynusername I've been asking the same thing

user bro is just built different

lilymhe why is yn on the ground ?

landonorris I tackled her 😊

user BBYE NOR PQNDO ADMITTINT HE TAKXLED HIS GITRIENR 💀

ynusername the spelling goes crazy

BAKING AND BOARD GAMES

double dates were a frequent go-to thing between the couple and their friends, alex and lily. it was a good time for the couples to hang out and catch up from the chaos from the season. mostly organized by their girlfriends who simply wanted to spend more time together, and the boys being dragged along, mostly alex. lando was the one who had clung to his girlfriends arm, begging him to let her go, and it was only fair to make alex go with too.

they'd frequent christmas markets, with lando spending an unnecessary amount of money on anything his girlfriend pleased because he loved to spoil her, despite the comments of others saying she was using him for it. he'd gladly let her though.

they'd walk with mugs of hot chocolate steaming out of the cup with whipped cream and peppermint sticks. she'd laugh at her boyfriend for the whipped cream on his upper lip, lily joining in when alex had gotten the same style of white mustache. she'd withhold the napkins from his grasp, enjoying the sight before her as lando tried to reach around her back where she'd hide them in her palm. he'd gotten so close to her face, he'd smudge the cream across her lips too.

"that's what you get!" he'd exclaim to her before laughing it off and wiping away the remnants that smeared across her face with the swipe of his thumb. he'd suck off the sweet, watching how her eyes dilated and her throat move as she gulped.

he leaned in close to her ear, whispering to her so the other couple wouldn't hear, "I bet you'd taste sweeter." he'd pull away to watch her face malfunction, as she'd open her mouth but words failed to form as her face became red and flush. she'd end up just shoving him by the shoulder, pushing the napkins into his hands.

landonorris

liked by ynusername, alexalbon, and 628,910 others

landonorris she does NOT mess around when it comes to monopoly

tagged—ynusername, alexalbon, and lilymhe

view all 3,820 comments

user STOP THE DOUBLE DATE

user I know right 😭😭😭 I'm so painfully single

alexalbon yn is on board game ban

ynusername ☹️

alexalbon you bit me

ynusername I'm just a teenage girl

alexalbon you're 22

ynusername don't remind me

user not alex and yn bickering like siblings 😭😭😭

user right?! like the duo we never knew we needed

ynusername he's too ugly to be my brother

alexalbon you'd be adopted.

ynusername 😧

user no one asking what they even made like I wanna know

oscarpiastri something burnt probably

landonorris you weren't even there though

ynusername it was definitely burnt though and all lan's fault.

user yn calling him lan 🥺

ICE SKATING AND CANDLE-LIT READS

rinks set up around london would be occupied by the group of couples who'd find themselves falling over laughing as they tripped over the ice. they'd fail to keep their balance as they skated around the ice. he'd be bent over tying her skates as she watched from over his shoulder, carmen and george and alex and lily as the couples gripped each other for dear life. she'd break out into a toothy smile, exciting looking back at her boyfriend as he'd finish lacing her skates, watching her breath exhale from her nose, the pink across her face from the chilling cold.

she'd stumble on her feet at the unfamiliar feeling of walking across the ground to the gate that'd lead then onto the ice, taking the intial step with her boyfriend not far behind. his gloves hands firmly placed on her hips, making her stomach flutter even though she'd felt his hands on her numerous times before.

they'd fall countless times, racking up the number of bruises on their body that lando would later kiss it better as she laid in bed. candles lit as the only light in the room as she read. she knew it was bad for the eyes, but it was a one time thing—not.

he'd lift the cloth that covered her body, kissing every mark that ruined her even skin, which proved to be majorly distracting to her reading—his plan all along as she'd engross herself between the pages of whatever novel she'd held. moving his warm breath across her skin, from her arms to her waist and hips to the sides of her thighs where her breathing got particularly shallow. he'd groan when she tried to push him away, though he knew not in disinterest.

ynusername

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, and 71,927 others

ynusername

view all 2,928 comments

user THE SNOOPY SHEETS

user id like to think lando sleeps peacefully in her girly bed.

ynusername he does

landonorris I can't believe you just told them that

ynusername I'd post the proof

landonorris YOU HAVE PROOF?

lilymhe post it

ynusername for my queen, yes

landonorris NO

user YN BLACKMAILING LANDO IS CRAZY

user I aspire to be like them

they'd end up at his family's house for the rest of the christmas holidays, spending times in front of the fireplace with boards games at their feet—shed play over lando's shoulder despite being on ban.

eventually she'd shove him from his place and take over—he just couldn't do it like her.

"what the hell?"

"lan, you suck, just let me play!"

"you're banned from playing!"

"ok and?"

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost finds out that you never learned how to ride a bike.

A/N: Thank you for suggesting this, anon. I hope your mother-in-law bought you a bomb-ass bike with a basket at the front and everything.

———————————————————————

“No way.”

“Yes.”

“Not even once?”

“What do you mean ‘not even once’?”

The conversation started when the lieutenant entered your shared office with two fingers bandaged together. Before you could ask what happened, his eyes caught yours, and he instinctively raised his hand, displaying the injury.

He explained that it happened while he and a group of soldiers were repairing one of the barracks. His pinky got caught in a plumping pipe, and because of the noise, they couldn’t hear him yelling at them to stop pushing. So the medic immobilised the fractured pinky by securing it to the ring finger to restrict its range of motion and let it heal.

He reassured you that the damage was minor and nothing to be concerned about, but he appeared defeated by having to bear this for the time being. You wished him a speedy recovery and then addressed the elephant in the room—how would he be able to carry the drill exercise scheduled for tomorrow?

He shrugged and admitted that the exercise had to be cancelled for now. Still, that wouldn’t pose a problem since military procedures are deeply ingrained and not easily forgotten.

“It’s like riding a bike.” He said.

And that’s what struck your current discussion—when you sneered at his analogy and admitted that you wouldn’t know since you never learned how to ride one.

He now stands there, speechless, and looks at you like you’re an alien that just landed on his back porch.

“Did you try and give up, or no one taught you how?”

“Do I look like I give up easily, Lt.?” You ask and shrug with your right shoulder. “No one taught me how to ride one.”

His eyes soften, and he looks out the window.

“Jesus Christ, kid.” He mutters, “Guess we found something else to do for tomorrow.”

“No way.” You state, shaking your head.

“Yes.” He replies and nods.

—————————— >> ———————————

Ghost left you a note on your desk this morning.

It said “warehouse, 10 a.m.” which was both weird and funny, considering how cryptic that message was for the purpose of the meeting.

You approach the warehouse and attempt to open the door, only to find that it’s locked. Suddenly, a sharp “pst!” grabs your attention from nearby, prompting you to follow the voice that’s guiding you behind the building.

There stands Ghost, with a worn-out bike next to him. He’s hugging a helmet with his injured hand and holding pairs of knee, elbow, and wrist pads with the other.

“Where did you find that?” You ask, pointing to the bike.

“In this warehouse; I found it a couple of years ago,” he replies. “I didn’t want to throw it away, so I fixed it and left it there.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You call this ‘fixed’?”

“It may not be a fucking Bianchi, kid, but it gets the job done,” he says and extends the gear towards you. “Put these on,” he orders, “I’ll help you with the knee pads.”

He kneels down, gently tapping your leg, indicating you to lift it.

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” You ask, “All that safety gear?”

He huffs and looks up at you. “Do you want to end up with a fractured pinky like me?”

“No, sir.”

“Lift your leg then.”

He adjusts your helmet and secures the knee pads, ensuring they’re correctly positioned. Then, he inspects the elbow and wrist pads to ensure they’re in the right place. Finally, he gives the saddle a firm slap, indicating you to hop on the bike.

You do as instructed, and he checks the bike, adjusting the seat height, handlebars, and brakes to fit your size. With you gripping the handlebars, he begins the lesson.

“Two things,” he says, raising the corresponding fingers on his uninjured hand. “Balance and coordination.”

“Balance and coordination.” You echo.

He nods, puts his hands behind his back, and paces around the bike.

“We’ll begin with the first one, which happens to be the most challenging, I must warn you,” he explains, “and then progress to the rest.”

“Balance is the hardest one.” You repeat.

“Yes, indeed. First, you’ll have to learn how to balance on that bike. Once you succeed, we’ll synchronise your turning, pedalling, and braking movements. Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Let’s get started then.”

—————————— >> ———————————

He’s right. Balancing that thing is difficult. At first, he instructs you to use your feet to push yourself forward while seated on the bike, gradually progressing to longer strides.

Then he commands you to pedal. He walks next to you, holding one of the handlebars with his uninjured hand and guiding the bike to help with balance. Occasionally, when he feels you have control, he lets go of the handlebar. But every now and then, you waver. And when that happens, he intervenes and puts his hand back on the handlebar.

And this continued until he felt confident that you were ready to give it your first try.

“What if I fall?”

“You will fall.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“You have to,” he insists, “that’s the only way you’ll learn.”

He stands behind you, holding the back of the saddle. He maintains his grip as you pedal, stabilising and guiding the bike. He jogs beside you, encouraging you.

And yes, there were countless falls. But each time, Ghost was there, lifting you up, brushing off the dirt, and urging you to give it another try.

The lesson began at 10 a.m. You have no idea what time it is now. Ghost has been so persistent that he must have also lost track of time.

“Lt,” you call out as you pedal for the hundredth time, “I think it’s time for a break; you must be tired as well.”

No response.

“Lt.?” You repeat.

Silence.

You turn halfway to address him, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Panic sets in, throwing off your balance, and you tumble to the ground once again. This time, he’s no longer there to catch you.

You look back at your starting point—Ghost is standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You look at the bike and then back at him. Your eyes widen. You point your finger at the bike, then at yourself.

He nods and lifts his hand in the air, giving a thumbs up.

“I did it!” You shout and run towards him, guiding the bike next to you.

“I saw,” he replies, and his eyes crease in joy, “but why didn’t you ride it back?”

“I think I need more practice.” You explain.

“We can continue practising after our break,” he suggests. “Good job, kid; I’m proud of you.”

“It’s all because of you, Lieutenant,” you say, “thank you for everything.”

He chuckles and tilts his head.

“Look,” he says, lifting his injured pinky. “This one needs support from this one to heal,” he explains, pointing to his ring finger.

“So I’m the pinky,” you say, “because you, the ring finger, taught me how to ride a bike.”

He lets out a sigh, shifting his gaze to the ground.

“Depends on who you ask,” he murmurs, “maybe I’m the broken one, and you’re helping me heal.”

———————————————————————

[atrueneutral]

'Husband' & 'Wife' Part II (Raphael x Tav)

There's smut in this. [Part I] --- She stared at him.

And he stared at her - waiting for her to strip.

“Is there a problem?” Raphael inquired with faux innocence and a raise of his brow.

Well, no… and yes.

It was neither the act of stripping nor the thought of actually being naked in front of the cambion that delayed her from enacting the first half of her bargain; it was the fact that they had appeared in the entrance hall - and it wasn’t empty.

To their credit, half of the debtors paid them no mind because they had no mind left; they shuffled around in despair, mumbling to themselves whilst the other (seemingly-more-lucid) debtors silently worked on their hands and knees to clean the marble floor with rags and a bucket of water.

Also to their (and Raphael’s) credit, they were clothed.

Suddenly her poor-decision-of-an-offer to clean his House naked became just that: a poor decision.

Another poor decision to add to her List of Regrets…

The List was never to be revealed to anyone, and therefore Raphael would never know how many times his name was mentioned; what he did need to know was that she was a woman of her word (most of the time), and she would, in-fact, clean his house naked for eight hours if need be.

(What-in-the-devil possessed her to say eight hours? Of all the hours! Why not five? Or even two?

One would have sufficed, surely…)

“No, there’s no problem,” she said sweetly, holding eye contact as she began to undo her belts. “It is rather toasty in here…”

His intense, heated gaze wasn’t helping.

Not in the mood to entreat Raphael or the debtors to a striptease, her belts were casually discarded to the floor. Footwear was next in line to be removed, but because her boots did not simply slip off, it became mildly embarrassing as she balanced on one leg at a time and wrestled each foot from imprisonment - all with Raphael watching with crossed arms and the hint of a smirk. Tav smirked, too, albeit with slight sarcasm once she dumped the second boot, and she swiftly moved on to pulling down breeches and smallclothes in one go. She stepped out of the puddle of garments whilst lifting her tunic from over her head, and the pile continued to grow with the added shedding of her brassiere.

All that was left-

“Leave your footwraps,” Raphael commanded, reading her intention of going for the strips of cloth around her feet. He inspected her as Tav straightened to shamelessly stand beside her shorn gear. His brown eyes were unapologetic in their scrutiny, and both she and her arousal unapologetically liked the way the cambion slowly burned a path from her face, down the column of her neck to drink in the sight of her breasts and hardened nipples. Further netherwards they went, trailing along her waist, hips, and thighs to magnetically settle on her sex. “I married well, it seems. You are exquisite. Haarlep does not do you justice - in more ways than one, I’m sure.”

Heat tinged her cheeks (the cheeks of her face, though her other cheeks were warmed from the temperature within the House), and Tav mentally reproached herself; this scenario was leading to danger, which was not good seeing as how the last time she stripped naked in front of a fiend…

“I’m very flattered you think so, husband,” she said with a pinch of haughtiness. “I presume my eight hours has officially begun? Where am I to begin cleaning? It looks as if this hall has been taken care of.”

“You will be cleaning the Archive. You know the way I believe?” Raphael dramatically gestured for her to take the lead down the hall. “After you, my dear.”

Tav stuck her nose in the air and airily began to guide them down the steps and through the passage that led to the dining hall.

“I can’t help but notice that you have yet to thank me for coming to your coin purse's rescue,” Raphael remarked behind her.

“You will get your thanks when I have the breastplate in hand,” Tav replied. “Besides, if anyone should be thanking anyone, you should be thanking me for my offer to do this - let alone in a state of undress.”

“Mm, you are quite right, Little Mouse…” said the cat, his voice dipping into a purr. “Thank you.”

She refrained from glaring at him; there was no-doubt that Raphael was appreciating the view of her assets as they moved through the dining hall and towards the Archive. The loitering debtors strategically fled or turned their backs at their approach, and Tav tried not to pay attention to the worrisome amount of wispy, spectral souls that skimmed through the air overhead.

Thankfully, for this visit, there was no need for her thieves’ tools; the doors to the Archive were open for visitors, allowing her to head straight for the expansive room she had at one time browsed all by her lonesome. During that uninvited drop in of Raphael’s treasures, the Archivist had annoyingly hovered over her shoulder (even after she successfully persuaded him that she was Someone Important), and, by the looks of things, the very same Archivist still had a job.

Not bothering to cover up, Tav stopped a number of feet away from the snobbish servant.

“If it isn’t Verillius Receptor,” the Archivist said snidely after getting over the initial surprise of her nudity. He then smoothed down his hostility once he saw who it was who followed behind and he bowed. “Oh, and my lord!”

“You are not needed - begone,” Raphael ordered in greeting.

Unable to help herself, Tav discounted the Archivist’s presence as she gave Raphael a simpering smile, “I look forward to seeing your treasures up close, husband.”

At the moment of leaving her, she regretted the way her words could be misconstrued as innuendo. Nothing lost on him, her ‘spouse’s’ eyes glinted with amusement - and more.

The ability to sputter like a goldfish was passed from her to the Archivist; his mouth opened and closed as his eyes flicked from her to his lord - confusion apparent. Panic then sprouted, for his delay caused a change in demeanor from Raphael and the servant hastily bowed again before scampering off.

“Close the doors behind you,” added the master of the House.

The Archivist obediently obliged, and the set of doors shut at his exit.

Wanting to avoid Raphael’s stare, Tav appraised the items that sat behind impervious shields. The Amulet of Greater Health and the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength remained on their marble pedestals, but the center pedestal was empty of any item or any contract belonging to a specific person.

Raphael stepped closer. “I’ve yet to find anything to match the significance of what was there.”

“Yes, the contract of your Crown’s courier,” Tav answered. She rotated to face him, and her heart stuttered; Raphael was closer than expected - well within arm’s reach. “Congratulations, by the way. As I understand it, you’ve achieved a number of victories since gaining the object of your heart’s desire.”

“Yes, but, as is natural when a desire is fulfilled, another must take its place.” His eyes drifted to her lips, and the rapid beating in her chest hurt. “Would you like to know my latest heart’s desire, Little Mouse?”

“Please share - unless you’d like me to find out through the reading of your diaries.”

His expression turned calculating at the recounting of her indiscretion, and Raphael invaded her space further with a single step, his head leaning in for her ear as he had earlier in the armor shop. A chill coursed through her when the back of a finger ghosted along her arm. “It’s my heart’s desire that each pedestal be cleaned to pristine perfection.”

He pulled his smirking (and stupid) handsome face away, and Tav quelled her own heart’s desire to punch it.

Snap!

At their feet, a bucket of sudsy water and a number of rags appeared from a plume of smoke and embers.

“Be sure to do a better job than the debtors - I’d hate to have to punish my wife.”

Tav internally fumed; he thought to lord himself over her? When there is no contract between them? She could win right here and right now; she could forget the breastplate! She could leave - leaving Raphael a thousand gold short with a breastplate he didn’t need or want, and with the remnants of a bargain to be made between him and the dwarven shop owner!

Tav mentally burned the List of Regrets (to avoid adding her next decision to it).

Oh, she’ll show him! She’ll make him beg!

“I’d hate to be disobedient.” She smiled demurely as she gracefully lowered to a crouch while looking at him. Her head came to be at the level of his crotch as she picked up the rags and then the handle of the bucket with the same hand. Her eyes fell from his face to consider what lay beyond the fabric of his breeches, and Tav caught a sliver of her lower lip between her teeth.

She rose without a second glance to the cambion and swayed her hips on her way over to the first exhibit displaying the Amulet of Greater Healing.

Raphael prowled after her.

“Oh, does my lord husband have nothing better to do than to watch his wife clean?” Tav asked as she stepped up the few stairs. She set the bucket down on the top step, just shy of the pedestal’s base.

“Past experience has told me that I can trust none else in this House to see to it that a mouse doesn’t get into mischief,” Raphael answered, landing at the foot of the stairs and effectively blocking her path from leaving the golden, fenced-in enclosure in which she stood.

“I’m sure the mouse meant no harm in seeing where the cat - no, pardon me, the fox - conducts his business.” Again she crouched, and Tav stuck out her backside as she grabbed a rag and dunked it into the foamy water. The rag was rinsed of any excess before she arranged herself to begin.

“Had there been harm, the mouse would have suffered for it.”

“Duly noted.”

She would clean to the best of her abilities, and she would do it whilst posing in the most provocative manner possible. Currently, this meant placing herself beside the pedestal - her position remaining low as she spread her legs and hovered above the floor on the balls of her feet, giving pedestal and floor an eyeful of her sex.

Nothing for Raphael, of whom she did not bother to acknowledge while ‘focusing’ on her task.

Hand and rag slowly moved up the smooth, arched portion of the pedestal before making its way back down again, wiping the marble of any accumulated dust and grime. When it came to more ‘stubborn areas’, Tav decided to add a bounce to her body in rhythm to her vigorous scrubbing.

“What are you doing, Little Mouse?” Raphael inquired with a substantial drop in his pitch.

“I’m cleaning in the nude - per the terms of our agreement,” Tav said pleasantly, moving to re-dunk her rag.

“Do you typically clean in this manner?”

“No, I typically clean with clothes on.”

“You know my meaning.”

Tav shifted the bucket over and threw a smirk over her shoulder as she once more sunk down and spread her legs - providing the front of the pedestal en eyeful of her front and the cambion a nice picture of all that her backside had to offer. “No, Raphael, I’m afraid I don’t know your meaning.”

“Then let me speak plainly - do you typically clean as if there were a cock beneath you?”

With the bucket slightly out of reach, and because she hadn’t rinsed her rag fully, Tav squeezed a nominal amount of water from the cloth, providing Raphael the illusion that her sex was soaked to the point of dripping.

“Not typically.”

She heard a low growl behind her, which pleased her to hear in more ways than one as she progressed on in her cleaning of the pedestal’s surface. After a handful of minutes, Tav got to her feet to return to the bucket but was stopped by a new directive.

“Move on to cleaning the center pedestal.”

The roughness of his voice drew her attention, and Tav knew she was doomed to live out her fantasies - if not solely due to the look Raphael was giving her; his eyes were dark and glazed over with want, and he gripped the stiffened outline of his cock through his breeches.

The devil was unraveling - because of her.

Tav grabbed her rag and bucket to then sidle up to him.

“Do you typically get aroused while watching debtors clean, Raphael? I wouldn’t put it past you,” she murmured whilst glancing from his eyes to his parted lips - the top of which was frozen in a partial curl.

“Only when watching you,” he replied huskily.

Tav tightened her hold on the bucket handle, lest it slip from her fingers and she make a genuine mess. The urge to kiss and taste that mouth of his was churning within, but she could not give in per the rules she created; he must bend and break first.

“I see.” She smiled as she stepped past him, and Raphael trailed after her to the center enclosure where the empty pedestal awaited to be cleaned.

Tav was at the top step when she paused and thought better of the placement of her bucket. She pivoted and slowly strutted back over to Raphael, who, yet again, acted as a guard to the section’s entrance and exit. The bucket was gently set down to the side, and she half-kneeled before him while she drowned her rag within water. With her eyes on that-which-couldn’t-be-ignored, Raphael capitalized and worked to free his erection from confinement.

It was then that a string of happenings happened within seconds of one another; Tav came face to face with the cambion’s well-endowed and well-engorged cock, her mouth went dry somewhere in the middle of ringing the water from her rag, and there was the painful realization that she might end up as the one begging.

Raphael languidly began to stroke himself - precum gathering at the tip.

Needing to clean and possessed by desire, Tav leaned in and swiped her tongue across the exposed head of him, causing Raphael to groan and twitch. She looked up, meeting brown, dilated pupils that were filled with longing, and there was the cursory thought that he, with his fiendish arrogance and pride, would simply take what he wanted rather than-

Tav’s musings were cut short when Raphael’s other hand wove itself into her hair.

“Tav.”

The sound of her name was perhaps the closest she would hear to a plea, and her response was automatic. Tav licked her lips before bringing them around the head of his cock, taking him into the heat of her mouth and planting her tongue against him. The rag was dropped and forgotten as her hand came to replace Raphael’s in wrapping around his shaft, and she took over in pumping him slowly, causing an audible breath to leave him. His hips reacted, matching her pace, and his fingers entwined in her hair - adding a gentle pressure to the back of her head as it moved.

Raphael’s heady gaze emboldened her to gradually increase her pace - her tongue circling and licking at his head, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked. His shaft became slick with her saliva, assisting her in her strokes…

And then she stopped with a teasing smirk. He growled in disapproval as Tav removed his cock from her mouth, and she did not blink as she snatched her rag and stood.

“Forgive me for getting distracted - I’d better go clean what was requested,” she rasped.

Every purposeful step she took away from Raphael and towards the pedestal caused her cunt to throb with need, and Tav decided to play out her fantasies; she would be the one to bend for him.

Up the few stairs she went with his eyes never leaving her, and she began to leisurely wipe down the top of the pedestal.

Oops! How clumsy of her to drop the rag behind the massive obstruction!

Needing, of course, to retrieve her item, Tav bent over the pedestal, positioning her stomach against the cool surface, and she made a half-hearted attempt to reach the rag while presenting herself to the cambion.

She gently wiggled her ass in invitation, and, at the sound of a burst, bootsteps became jingling bootsteps in their approach.

Her wiggling ceased the moment she sensed and felt Raphael behind her. The fabric of his clothes pressed against her bare skin, his cock nestled between her legs, and a delightfully warm, clawed hand splayed across her back to then follow down the line of her spine. The hand palmed her ass before giving her a firm spank.

Tav yelped in surprise and twisted to glare at the fiendish, winged and horned form of her ‘spouse’.

“A punishment for being so careless,” he said lowly, treating himself to a handful of her smarting cheek. “I warned you, did I not?”

“I suppose you did,” Tav conceded with a sigh. Her expression changed to include a charming smile as she batted her eyelashes. “But, be a dear and get me another rag so I may continue in my duty?”

“No,” Raphael said. His other hand gripped her hip while the hand on her ass traveled to her aching sex. Fingers slipped between her soaked lips and across the sensitive bud of her clit, causing her to jerk and keen. Raphael practically purred at his findings, and Tav gasped when two digits pushed inside her after a moment of exploration. “I have my mouse right where I want her - squirming under my claws.”

He began to pump, and the mouse squirmed as she held onto the pedestal.

“Have you always wanted this, my dear?” Raphael asked, curling his fingers to elicit a cry of a moan from her lips. “Why else would you offer what you did?”

“Yes, I’ve thought about this - too often…” Tav admitted in between breathlessness.

The claws at her hip dug further into her flesh, and Raphael hummed - sounding positively pleased by what he heard in the middle of positively pleasing her with his fingers. Once she was substantially wound up and to the point of nearly-begging, the cambion removed his digits, leaving Tav feeling empty and needing to be filled.

Eagerness and anticipation spiked her blood at the feeling of his ridged cock sliding between her lips. He coated himself with her desire for him before the head of him pushed at her entrance. 

“As have I,” Raphael said, easing himself inside her walls with a shudder.

“Oh, gods!” Tav moaned. The size of him stretched her, and she choked on breaths as they both acclimated to one another.

He began to move, ripping pleasure through her body while both of his hands gripped her hips.

She clung to immovable marble as the devil she knew fucked her from behind. Raphael buried himself within her cunt with each thrust, and his rhythm seemed to match that of primal need. Her head turned to look at him, and his eyes ensnared her with a blazing fire that held flames of possessiveness.

“My Little Mouse,” he growled.

Danger manifested before her, and the meager amount of wisdom Tav had fought to keep her mouth shut - to neither confirm or deny his claim over her.

But every other aspect within her stupidly liked how it sounded…

“Oh, my lord husband! My Archdevil Supreme!” she exclaimed, causing Raphael to shudder again.

Well.

Her wisdom tried.

As he continued to fuck her, Tav wished to have access to her clit to help push her over the edge, but even if she was not to come undone herself, there was immense satisfaction to be felt and seen in the cambion’s undoing. He became absorbed in having his way with her, which was an ego boost as much as it was a turn on, and Tav was confident that her time for sexual bliss would come in the hours ahead.

Cleaning the House was no longer a priority for either of them.

“You should also know how often I’ve thought about you coming inside me - filling me with your seed...”

In exchange for her confession, Raphael growled something feral. A hand roamed across her skin before pushing into the small of her back, and she was held to him and pedestal both as his pace signified that his climax was nearing.

With a last, rough jerk of his hips, Raphael finished and spilled inside her cunt - his fingers trembling against her skin while every drop seeped into her womb.

His hold left her as he leaned forward and braced himself upon the sides of the pedestal surface. He panted over her, getting his bearings, and Tav was stunned when the cambion eventually leaned over to plant a kiss on her shoulder before slipping out of her and stepping back to give her room to move.

Tav peeled herself away from the marble, leaving perspiration behind.

“I would get my rag…” she cheekily remarked. “But I’m afraid I’m not done soiling this pedestal.”

Raphael’s head snapped to her, and he ravenously watched as she hopped up to properly sit upon the marble top, her legs spreading to showcase his come that leaked from her.

“What's next, dear husband?"

[meowzfordayz]

to be in love

Author’s Note: not much to note… 😅

to be in love

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: could you write a comfort fic about Giyu?? (only if you have time ofc)

~faqs~

“What’s on your mind?”

You eye Giyuu for a long second, not quite focused on how blue and earnest his stare is, softness flickering from your face to your hands to your face again. He’s used to waiting. Used to long stretches of doubt and hesitation; of watching the gears turn in your head as you calculate the pros and cons of showing yourself to him — the reassurance you seek tempered by a deep, creeping fear of But what if I don’t deserve it?

“Nothing?”

He raises an eyebrow as you wince at your questioning inflection, your lie clear as day, his fingertips calloused and cool as they reach for your wrists.

“I don’t know,” you amend your response, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter to you,” he asks lightly, “Or to me?”

You shrug, “I mean, I guess it matters to me,” your wrists twisting in his grasp, thumbs stroking his pinkies, “But it doesn’t have to matter to you.”

With a low chuckle, Giyuu lifts a stern finger to your chin, coaxing your heated cheeks to meet his searching gaze. He adores these moments, seated across from you at the dining table, sometimes curled up together on the couch, occasionally lying side by side in bed, his eyelids growing heavy as your tentative voice murmurs in a familiar tone Giyuu? As much vulnerability as you’re willing to give him is how much patience he has. He’s greedy, after all, for your trust in him — for the intimacy of overcoming that ringing weight of Am I enough?

“Talk to me. Please.”

“You’ve been in love before.”

He’s quiet, your statement quivering in his chest, frowning when he realizes just how bright your eyes have become, tears threatening to burst through your delicately kept tension.

“I have,” he says, heart clenching as you struggle to look away, “But they weren’t you.”

“Giyuu,” you deadpan, cracking a wry smile even as tears finally begin to fall, “That has got to be the most cliche answer in the book.”

“Oh?” he smiles back, smearing your tears with tender fondness before they drip off your jaw, “There’s a book?”

“I know it shouldn’t bother me because we both lived plenty of lives before we met. I know that. I know that what’s past has passed, and that I should be grateful for that past. I should be grateful for the lives that led us to each other. But I… can you really, truly be in love with me? With your whole heart?”

Silence seeps between your damp skin and Giyuu’s touch, your words processed and contemplated, inspected and prodded. You hold your breath, a bird perched to take flight, his faint smile and adoring eyes never leaving your own watery stare.

“I am really, truly in love with you. With my whole heart.”

“How can you be su-”

“Yes. I have loved before you. I have loved hard. I have loved with what I believed was my entire being. And yes, I have been heartbroken. I have yearned for what was no longer mine. I have wished to reverse time, to try again, to prove I am better than, more than, whatever separated me from my lover.” His smile broadens, undeniable warmth caressing your tears as he continues, “But my heart is complete. There are not bits and pieces of it lost to regret. There is not a single speck of my soul lingering, stalling, hoping to be with anyone else. I am in love with you, and I intend to spend the rest of my life this way.”

“This way?” you whisper.

“Just like this,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead, “Here. In love, with you.”

“But what if-”

“There is no what if,” he interrupts gently, “Not for me. There’s your amazing laughter and your gorgeous smile. And your eyes, so beautiful, so full of love. There’s how cherished I feel by you, and how much I feel I can cherish you. There’re so many things about you, about who I am with you, about us… I can’t guarantee much, but I do know there’s only one of you. And I know how lucky I am to be loved by you; how lucky I am to love you. I find, as we spend more and more of our days together, that I care less and less for what if. You, you’re it.”

Giyuu can tell, the moment your tears begin to glisten with affection and hope. The moment the hardness in your gaze begins to dissolve, the insecurity and coldness in your demeanor melting to a radiant glimmer. He understands how difficult it is, accepting love that you feel is beyond your right — accepting love that you still struggle to believe in. And he knows it’s possible. Knows it’s possible to be loved so completely, so effortlessly, with all the effort in the world, that there isn’t room for fear, for loss, for doubt. That is how you love him.

“I love you,” you grin, licking at the corners of your mouth, saltiness coating your tongue, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” he declares, a brilliant, endeared sound, enamored with the clarity of the emotion in your eyes, “I love you.”

You kiss him slowly, hands cupping his face, another shared laugh closer to forever.

[starsofang]

Finish Line

Street Racer!AU / Part 1

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Returning to the racing world in a new city proves to be futile when one of the racers has it out for you. He's determined to take you down, and you're determined to win.

TW: will be added for future parts, reader has a biker name but does not have a referenced name otherwise

A/N: if you’ve seen blade runner or cyberpunk, those were the vibes i’m going for. but basically all street racer!141 are in this, pray for me <3

The radiant glow of luminescent neons flooded your vision as you lifted yourself off of the bike you’d ridden into town, casting arrays of purples and blue along the span of your skin, reflecting blinding shimmers off of the glossy shine of your bike.

The city was boisterous around you. The streets filled with a variety of people covered in racing gear or alternative twists in their style. All sorts of glitzy colors adorning their bodies, mirroring the image of the neon city and blending them in. Crazy was the best word to describe it. Hectic, maddening hysteria that littered the city like a plague.

You stood in the midst of it all, taking in the booming voices that carried through the air of excited participants in the race that was soon to begin. It was a frenzy even being in the city, and you found yourself sticking to the side of your bike and opting to watch instead of join. After all, you knew nobody, and this was your first race – at least, your first one in a long time, and in a new city on top of that.

You’d never been in a place so lively before, and perhaps that was the appeal to it all. People were excited. They treated street racing like a sport rather than the crime it was. Illegal, unhinged, dangerous.

It was the most life-threatening sport one could get into, and you were one of those unfortunate souls who had a knack for speed.

“Takin’ it all in?” An unfamiliar voice geared its way towards you through the chaos, and when you looked over, you saw an older man with kind eyes and a heavy-set beard. Upon further inspection, you noticed his left leg was purely robotic, all metal and fancy tech, a neon outline tracing along the ridges and curves.

“It’s a lot,” you breathed in response, earning a hum of acknowledgement from the mystery man.

“Sure is,” he agreed, though his wide smile and twinkling eyes made it seem as if he preferred it that way. “You racin’ tonight, doll?”

You glanced over at your bike from beside you. Purple, matching the fluorescent city, and fast as hell when you knew how to control it. “I am. First race in a while. Are you?”

The man chuckled lowly, shaking his head. He tapped his knuckles against the cool metal of his leg, giving you a cheeky smile that poked through the fur on his face. “Can’t race with a leg like this. People might think I’m cheatin’.”

The tone of his voice was teasing, and it brought your own laugh out. “I wouldn’t say it’s cheating. Maybe just a bit of modification, is all.”

He laughed again, and the sound of it eased the original tension that consumed you from the sight of a new crowd in a new city. “I like the way you think, doll. I’m John. John Price.”

Your eyebrows raised at the name, and you stared at him with a look of surprise and awe. His hand was outstretched to shake yours, and when you shook off your initial shock, you reached out to grab it.

John Price. Even in other cities unlike this one, like your own, John Price was a name whispered amongst other racers. A true street racer, one that took win after win like it was easy. In his day and time, he was the best of the best, and if you knew he was in your race, it was promised fate that you would lose to him.

Nobody knew what happened to him after he disappeared from the racing crowd, but judging from the robotic leg, you could piece together the picture.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you greeted politely, your hands clasping together to give each other a firm shake before releasing. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” he hummed in amusement, feigning humility. “Didn’t take it that others knew about me in other cities.”

“How’d you know I wasn’t from here?”

“Oh, I can tell, doll. You looked like a poor lamb walkin’ into a wolf’s den, comin’ here,” he teased, and you shifted on your feet in embarrassment. “No need to fret. I’ll introduce you to a couple of the other racers, get you more acquainted.”

You weren’t sure why he would bother to do so. This race was a competition, and getting to know the other racers you were about to go up against wasn’t exactly in your books for the night. He seemed to recognize the muted confusion, though, because he smiled and beckoned you with a hand to follow him.

“It’s good to know who you’re competin’ against,” he explained as you walked alongside him. Your bike handles were between both of your hands, steering it beside you, too uncertain of the new area to trust anybody to leave it be. “Good to learn their tricks so you can use it against them.”

“Why exactly are you telling me this?” you asked, and he chuckled.

“Haven’t had a new racer in a while. Not a promisin’ one, anyway. Forgive me, but I tend to get a bit excited when somebody new joins the races.”

That made sense, you suppose. He didn’t race anymore, so he thrived off of the thrill of every race. If he couldn’t join, he could certainly watch and observe. Price probably knew all of the ins and outs of every street racer without their knowledge.

You followed him down the bustling streets, passing by crowds of colorful people who were nearly bouncing off the walls in anticipation. The looks you got along the way had you uneasy, but most of them were more curious than cruel, taking in the sight of your bike and the flashy, purple protective gear you wore.

Finding yourself at a rundown looking building that was littered with a vivid glow, you entered what appeared to be a garage. It was filled with various other bikes, as well as an insane amount of toolboxes lining the walls with spare parts scattered carelessly.

Propping your bike up with its kickstand, you stood a bit straighter when Price called out to a group of men on the other side of the garage. One was working on a bike, while the other two were lounged lazily on a beat up couch, bickering with one another.

The sound of Price’s voice seemed to send them into immediate submission, and they stood, making their way over to you.

They were… certainly a mixed pack, weren’t they?

The first man you took notice of was decked out in a bright blue that glowed in curvy patterns along his gear. His hair was shaved into a messy mohawk that flopped languidly atop his head, and his smile was crooked and toothy, creasing his eyes into wrinkly crescents.

The second one had a warmth to him, despite the edginess of his gear. It was deep red and meshed well with the tan of his skin, and just like everything else in this city, provided a neon blaze that you swore would cause you to turn blind at some point.

The third one was incredibly off putting. Cold, stiff, and eyes that bore into you like a knife digging in your skin. It was laced over with poison, threatening to invade your veins and taint your bloodstream. His eyes were the only thing you could see, for the rest of his face was covered by a painted balaclava, the mouth of a skull covering his own. Dark and dangerous, a racer you grew wary of when the time came for competing.

“This here is Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. They won’t bite,” Price assured. You highly doubted that.

You gave them a polite nod of your head, and Soap clasped a hand on your shoulder, beaming at you. His smile was nearly as blinding as the rest of the city, and you wondered briefly if it hurt.

“New comer, eh? Ever raced before?” he asked in enthusiastic curiosity.

“Yeah,” you replied, and Gaz released a low whistle. When you shifted your eyes to him, he was looking at your bike.

“Looks like you have a new competitor, Ghost,” Gaz teased. Ghost didn’t seem amused by it, his eyes continuing to stare you down in silent disapproval.

“Unlikely,” he rumbled dryly.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him. Ghost was already giving you the information to know you needed to steer clear of him, both on the streets and off. He was competitive, and you could practically see it burning through his irises, like a raging fire that you had no way of putting out.

It was unfortunate that you were also just as competitive. You had your reasons for returning to racing, and you’d be damned if a man like Ghost attempted to sway you off track.

“Guess we’ll have to see, Ghost,” you chirped. His eyes narrowed in warning, pupils near black from the way he was scoping you out and silently pulling you apart in the clouds of his mind. Price snorted at the tension, but made no attempt to stop it. After all, he liked friendly fire – though, this wasn’t exactly as friendly as it was fire.

“Right,” Ghost grunted, cocking his head at you. His posture was menacing, and you would be smart to ease off the high horse, but you didn’t falter. “Don’t exactly think I caught your name.”

“Maze,” you offered.

Of course, everybody in the racing world only ever went by their biker name. Everybody’s had meaning, a reasoning for being called that. Maze was a name that was pinned to you without so much as a say, based on how effortlessly you could maneuver your way through tangled webs of roads and corners in the midst of chaotic races.

Ghost was a name unheard of, and surely, there was a baleful reason for it.

“Maze,” Ghost repeated with a tongue full of smoking venom. “I guess we’ll see, then.”

It was a threat if you ever knew one, and from the way the others remained perfectly unphased by it, a normal one at best. This was who he was, his true colors, dark and gloomy in comparison to the bright vivids that painted over the city.

Before you could say much else, a blaring sound filled the air, sharp and deafening. It was a shrill in your ears, lacing your eardrums with discomfort

Price’s hand clapped on your back and he gave you a promising grin.

“Best to ready yourself up, doll. I’m excited to see you work your magic.”

You hauled your bike back out on the crowded streets, where electrifying voices shocked through the air like a vice. It was overwhelming, but nothing you weren’t used to. Races were the heat of most cities, and many people partook in the frenzy of events with dripping exhilaration, gathering together in a heap of hectic mess to place their bets on who would come out as the victor.

Tugging your helmet over your head didn’t do much to quiet down the noise, but it allowed you a blanket of dull security, giving you a chance to breathe. You prepared yourself by lining your bike with the others, and when you really studied your surroundings, there were dozens. Each and every bike was crafted with their own unique design and theme, and the drivers occupying them were just as otherworldly. You felt almost like an ant in a big world of antsy animals.

Your gloved hands gripped the handles of your bike, tight and tense, and you sucked in a long breath before releasing it, allowing your shoulders to relax.

Looking around, you noticed Soap was perched next to you on his own bike. When he took notice of you, he propped up his visor to show off his eyes, and from the way they crinkled, you could only assume he was grinning at you. His hand lifted, propping up his thumb in a weak attempt to wish you good luck.

You gave one back to be a good sport, but you knew once the alarms went off and flags were raised, this would be a warzone. There was no friendly competition, only bloodshed and battle.

Ghost’s bike was settled somewhere in front of you by a couple of lanes, and you took a moment to read his body language.

He was just as stiff as before, his shoulders pulled taut and his hands gripping the handles so tight, you were sure his knuckles were white beneath his gloves. His bike was as black as his attitude, nearly disappearing in the night if not for the bright lights reflecting off of them, and his gear matched perfectly with it. The helmet he wore mirrored the design of his balaclava you saw him in, with delicate, white swirls painted on to the mouth of the plastic and etching up to the top.

When you looked at him, he was already looking at you. Even under his visor, you could feel the intensity of his stare, like a looming shadow threatening to pull you by the ankle and yank you into a world of suffocating darkness.

You stared back until he turned away, noticing the small head shake he did to himself, but not minding it.

Competition. This was a competition. May the best racer win.

The wait for the call was dreadful. It racked your bones with unnerving anticipation, edging you towards the fall of a cliff, threatening to push you over. It was a game, body rigid in impatience, but when the sound of a gunshot fired through the air, it all melted away, replaced with premeditated determination.

Instantly, the sounds of revving bikes and screeching tires filtered through your helmet and bled into your ears. Your own joined in the mix, hand quick to accelerate your bike in motion, surging you forward. It was a rush of adrenaline, like a drug shooting through your bloodstream, and it willed you into a state of starved aggression.

All thoughts that had plagued your mind were brushed aside and replaced with nothing but the thought of winning. The prize money was a wealthy sum, and that alone was enough to have you weaving in between the other racers, leaning your body forward for some extra leverage.

Buildings passed by you like a quick blink, the various colors whipping by like a flash. Your vision was filled with the backs of other racers ahead of you, as well as the neon signs that littered every street corner, holograms of food and pretty women from the diversity in night business becoming your most perceived line of sight.

The other bikers were brutal. It showed in the way they tried cutting you off with a sharp flick of their bike when they noticed you trailing behind them, your front wheel nearly kissing their back wheel. It was an aggressive fight for dominance, and for a brief moment, you feared you were biting off more than you could chew.

This was an entirely new city, one you weren’t accustomed to, and these were new riders. You didn’t know the streets like you did back at home, nor did you know the layout for shortcuts. You didn’t know how to adjust to the neon oasis that filled your sight with blinding lights.

The only thing you knew how to do was fight back. And fight back you would.

When you saw the opportunity to speed past the racer in front of you, a man in an all orange suit, you took it. There was a gap so small you were crazy to try and fit through it, but you curled your hand around the bike handle, revving forward and sliding past him so he was on your tail.

You hoped that if Price was watching somewhere, he was somewhat impressed.

The twists and turns of the streets were difficult to maneuver, but not impossible. It was definitely a fight to control your bike on the sharp corners that required lots of tilting of your own body weight, but once you made it past the first couple, it proved to be much smoother than you thought.

The more the race went on, the more your muscle memory of riding came back to you, and it was a thrilling fun rather than a daunting spiral. It coursed through your veins like a fever, and the adrenaline pumped through you in earnest, causing you to feel alive.

The back and forth of you weaving in and out of open vessels caused you to end up in second place, and the only racer ahead of you was none other than Ghost. Now, other riders, you were confident in defeating, but Ghost was a lovely challenge.

He had a couple of yards on you, and the way he controlled his bike was a near work of art. He was positively beautiful at it, and now you were starting to understand his biker name.

Ghost, because he could disappear in the shadows of the night, never to be seen again. Nobody could catch up to him, because he was a spirit in the night riding on a cloud of shadows and devilry.

Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew, because your hands revved up one more time, your upper body leaning impossibly forward on the curve of your bike, and you were determined. If nobody could catch up to him, then you wanted to be the first.

Swerving through impossibly small streets and side alleys, he was becoming more clear in your view. If you could get just a little closer, you’d be neck and neck. With the promise of a finish line approaching, you’d have to do it soon.

Bit by bit, your bike gained proximity. You were nearly right by his side, and the sheer power of it all had your heart thumping like bombs in your chest. He was there, right there, and your win was hanging by a thin string.

Ghost’s head whipped over to look at you when he heard the sounds of your engine, and whatever expression he wore under the helmet, you wished you could see it.

As if fueled by anger, he gripped his handles a bit tighter. The two of you waltzed in a dance of back and forth, fighting for the title of victor. The street was a straight shot now, and you could see the faint holographic sign that hung above the finish line, indicating the near end of the race. It glowed at you, taunted you, beckoned you towards it like a siren of the sea. It sang pretty songs to you, desperate to grab hold of you and claim it as theirs.

The two of you were tightly bound together the closer you got, so close you could practically feel the heat of carbon as it left his exhaust. It scorched you like a blazing fire, but it only proved to encourage you more.

You fought and fought for dominance. The crowds of people waiting at the finish line were as crazed as madmen, shouting and waving their arms, desperate to see who would win.

Just as the finish line became approachable, Ghost surged a few mere inches in front of you, as if waiting for the opportunity. It was a warzone when the race ended, and you slowed your bike to a stop. Taking off your helmet, you gasped for air that was stolen from you from the pure, intoxicating adrenaline, glancing up at the lit up scoreboard that glitched with a chromatic listing of all places that racers fell into.

You were second, Ghost was first.

You wanted to win, yes. But second place was as good as they came for the first race, and you were elated.

The sounds of people celebrating nearly tuned out the angry sound of boots stomping your way. You hadn’t even had a chance to get off your bike before a hand was grabbing hold of your shoulder, whipping you around to come face to face with Ghost. His balaclava remained, even under the confines of his helmet that was no longer there, and his eyes were bristling with those same flames from before that had shifted into a dangerous blaze.

“The fuck was that?” he spat, words stabbing into you like daggers.

“A competition,” you replied calmly, perhaps a bit too cockily. “Was it not?”

Ghost leered at you, shoulders dropping and rising with the heavy breaths he took. His hand was curled into a fist in the collar of your gear, keeping you in place. It tightened its hold, and he leaned closer to your face, glaring into you.

“You need to fuckin’ watch yourself, Maze.” He spoke your name like a sin, as if announcing the Devil himself. “Pull that shit again and you won’t live to see another race.”

He promptly let go of your collar, shoving you away in the process. You could do nothing but watch as he stormed off, out of sight and out of mind. Like a Ghost.

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 6)

Word Count - 3k

Summary - TF 141 has regrouped at their safe house, and in the past two weeks they have been of trying to figure out their next move. Doc and Ghost finally have a little talk about their night together.

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn

A/N - hi

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3  ❤︎ Part 3.5  ❤︎ Part 4 ❤︎ Part 5 ❤︎ Part 7

Masterlist   

The two of you were back in the garage the next morning. Ghost getting up significantly earlier than you did; leaving you to wake up alone and slightly chilled from the morning air. 

There was also a delicious ache between your legs that wasn’t normally there. 

Ghost was servicing one of the armoured vehicles to make sure it was ready to go when the squad needed to move. It’s matte tan painting normally nothing significant but you couldn’t help but feel some sort of familiarity with the vehicle. While taking stock of your medical supplies you stared at the lettering on the side of the vehicle trying to pinpoint where you had seen it before. 

“Riley,” you called out, eyes still locked on the bolded lettering on the side of the hood. He paused what he was doing to look up at you. With narrowed eyes, you said, “Why do I feel like I’ve read about this ATV before?” You recalled reading about a vehicle being swiped from a convoy a few months ago in one of the weekly newsletters the military put out. 

“Uhh,” you could’ve sworn there was a slight blush underneath that mask, “Yeah, we stole it. Wasn’t our intent at first, but figured it would be a waste of an opportunity if we returned it.”  

You made your way to the stool beside him, “‘We’ as in?”

“Soap and I…” he thought for a second, searching for the right word, “commandeered it on our way into an active combat zone. In the report, we said it was a hostile.” he shrugged. Everything here was stolen, sure, but it was mostly little things like rations and ammo; which he had mentioned took forever to compile. The other vehicle was just a modified truck. This was an Oshkosh MPAP; equipped with a turret, and bulletproof windows, and was worth a million dollars.

And these goons just took it.   

Despite his seemingly nonchalance demeanour, there was clear pride in the set of his shoulders. You also knew he and Soap chuckled about it on their way here to stash it.   

“What did Price have to say about it?” you inspected the manual for the ATV to see all it came with. There was a hesitance from him and you lifted a brow at him, “What will Price have to say about it?” you reworded the question, getting the sense that Price doesn’t know. 

“I doubt he’ll even notice,” Simon set back to work, reaching for something and tightening it with a wrench. 

The rest of the squad arrived later in the morning and Price undoubtedly noticed. In fact, he pointed right at it, eyebrows raised but didn’t say a word. 

Soap pretended to be just as shocked, “How did this get in here?” 

Ghost did a good job of redirecting everyone’s attention, “We’ve got almost a week's worth of food reserves.”

Gaz swung his gear over his shoulder heading towards the makeshift barracks, “You leave any hot water for us?” he asked Ghost. 

“Nope,” he shot back dryly, failing to mention there was never any hot water to begin with. He shoved a finger in Soap’s direction, “You better get in there next. I can smell you.” 

“It’s a musk,” Soap retorted, feigning offence.  

“Go stand downwind of me,” Ghost strained as he looked an ammo crate into one of the trucks.  

You couldn’t smell Soap from where you sat but you were sure every one of them smelt like a little ripe from all the traveling. They looked weary from it. 

A strange feeling of unspoken uneasiness hung overhead all of you. Everyone was purposefully avoiding the obvious fact that we didn’t have a solid plan.    

When Gaz returned from his shower, he had a strange look on his face. A mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He had pulled a a pack of cigarettes from his pocket throwing them to Soap, “You win,” he said bitterly. 

“Really?” Soap caught the pack, immediately putting one in his mouth. He turned to Ghost, “You’ve just made me a very happy man.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ghost looked genuinely confused. He glanced at you with questioning eyes, wondering if you had any insight into their exchange.

You offered him a subtle shrug.  

Price was talking quietly with Laswell outside the garage. With dark bags weighing down his eyes, accompanied by a frown, Price looked uncharacteristically tired. Knowing him, he probably didn’t get the best sleep last night. It was us against the world right now, and since he was our captain every single one of us was looking to him for direction. It was a lot of pressure for one man. But there was a good reason he was Captain. He was level-headed and experienced. This probably wasn’t the first time he found himself in this situation either. This was just another Wednesday for him. For all of them. 

Except you. 

You don’t belong on a task force like this. You weren’t even sure you were meant for the medic life anymore. Lord knew you couldn’t save anyone when it mattered. 

Your teeth sank into your lip as you pondered your life choices so far. The hair on the back of your neck began to tingle and when you looked up to see Ghost watching you from across the room. His eyes revealed nothing before he dragged his attention back to Soap.               

Price called for a meeting after everyone was a little more settled in, “We’ll need to lie low for the next few weeks. Keep our footprint to a minimum,” Price took a seat on the bench next to you, swiping a hand down his face, “Laswell said that the brasses have been keeping it tight-lipped about our situation. So either they don’t know and someone is working on this alone or they do know and don’t want it getting out,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Which one is worse? I don’t know.” 

If they do know we risk giving ourselves away by trying to make contact. This was going to be a waiting game. 

We were in this alone and the thought of the world being completely oblivious to our disappearance was frightening. The idea of your family never knowing what happened to you left just as fast as it came. 

“Until we come up with a plan?” Gaz sneered, his eyes hardening making it evident it was hardly a question. 

“How long will that take?” You asked, your knee bouncing in a clear show of anxiety. 

Laswell cleared her throat, eyes peeking over the laptop she was sitting in front of, “I’ve got a few contacts on US soil who are doing some internal investigations. I won’t be able to exchange information with them as often as I’d like but they’re good at what they do,” She assured, this usually perfect braid falling loose down her shoulder. “I trust that they’ll be able to find some leads.”

“How long with that take?” Ghost repeated your question.

Laswell huffed, “I have no idea.” 

“Let’s aim for a few weeks at the very least,” Price said, lifting a fresh unlit cigar to his mouth. 

“We’ve only got a week’s worth of food,” you exchanged a look with Ghost, who was already looking at you, his dark eyes unreadable. Before the rest of the team got here he had donned his mask, making it all the harder to gauge what exactly he was thinking. 

“Ahh,” Laswell flipped her laptop to face the rest of us. You leaned forward and squinted at the bright screen with multiple windows pulled up, “There’s a little townlet three hours from here with no military presence. We can go into town to stock up when the time arrives.”

Two weeks. Two whole weeks passed and Laswells weren’t any closer to finding out who Specter was, and everyone was getting antsy. She did, however, discover that we have all been flagged as deserters. 

Price and Gaz were out doing recon every morning, and every time they came back with the same news. Which was no news.  

You and Ghost had gone into the little town Laswell aforementioned nearly every day since that first week. You spent most of your time at one of the schools there. It was a symbiotic relationship where you were providing medical services wherever you were needed in exchange for more medical supplies. All the while Ghost went off on his own sometimes coming back with food other times with information on the movements of the military. “For your safety” he wasn’t able to tell you who exactly he was meeting with for this information. 

You were cleaning the wound of a smaller child, her dark hair and wide glassy eyes flitting to everything that moved. Considering how her wound looked a week ago she was healing well. In a few more days there will be nothing left but a pink scar. You couldn’t understand each other because of a language barrier but there was mutual respect between you two. She couldn’t have been older than 10 but her eyes showed she had seen more than her years. Her eyes would sometimes glaze over and would stare far beyond what you could see. Her mouth would loosen and she would murmur to herself. A prayer, you were later told by a woman who spoke English. It was unsettling to see someone so young so grown. 

That’s what growing up in a warzone will do to you. You chastised yourself, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Here,” you secured her bandage showing off your work to her. Her delicate hand grazed it, her face void of emotion. With a slight bow of her head, she left. You watched as she disappeared back out the school door. 

You felt someone take a seat beside you, her identity easily discerned by her scent of pepper and rosemary. “Her mother would have been so devastated to see her like this,” she spoke softly, her accent almost undetectable. She was one of the teachers at the school, and also the one who let you use her classroom as a makeshift station when she didn’t have any classes. 

She seemed like a great teacher, artwork and previous school projects lined her classroom walls. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that she was using the past tense. Your mouth opened and closed as you fought to find the right words, “She’s too young,” too young for this kind of life. Too young to be seeing death. Too young to be this broken. 

“Is anyone ever old enough?” She began helping you pack your supplies, offering you a new medical kit for today’s services, “We are having trouble getting shipments in so this is going to be the last time we’ll be able to pay you back.” 

You tilted your head at her, “What do you mean by troubles?”    

She smoothed out the wrinkles from her shirt, “They’ve put up checkpoints at every roading leading in and out of eastern borders. It is almost impossible to get transport trucks through,” Her blue eyes had grown tired in the last few days.

You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. If there is anything I can do to repay you, anything at all, let me know.”

She smiled and shook her head, “You’ve done more than enough,” she leaves you to turn her attention to a group of students coming in for her next class. 

Ghost returned to the school a few hours earlier than he usually did, his pace hurried, “Grab your stuff. We’re getting out of here,” he panted like he’d run the entire way back to the school but he was already moving to pack your supplies back into your pack. 

You looked up at him, eyebrows knitting together, “What’s wrong?” 

“A convoy was sighted three hundred kilometres to the east,” he didn’t wait for your reply before he slung ur pack over his shoulder and strode for the door, “And they aren’t insurgents.” 

Which means they’re American. And they couldn’t know we were here. They would take us all back in, and the last thing we wanted was to be getting into gunfights with our own. 

Ghost opened your door for you, “Get in.” 

You gave him a side glance before stepping up into the truck and letting him slam it shut behind you. Apart from the sound of the rocky road underneath the wheels and the whir of the engine the ride back was silent. You watched out your window, turning thoughts over in your head, debating whether the conversation you’ve been wanting to have with him but never the time, was worth it. 

Since that first night, nothing more has happened between you too. There hasn’t been the time for a conversation about it. Let alone actual sex. Still, a conversation needed to be had at some point. You wanted to know what he was thinking. He was always difficult to read and never shared his thoughts and feelings with anyone.  

“What’s on your mind?” Ghost spoke first, sensing your hesitation, his eyes flickering between you and the road. 

“A lot,” you tried laughing but it came out more like a sigh, then shrugged, “I guess mostly…about that night,” you started off.

His eyes widened before he quickly turned to face the road again, “Go on.” 

“We haven’t discussed it, or… haven’t really had the time to explore what it means. If it does mean anything. Don’t get me wrong,” you caught yourself, “There really isn’t a worse time for something like this,” it wasn’t like things had grown awkward between the two of you in the last few weeks, but you weren’t sure how you were supposed to be feeling. Or how he was feeling. Doubt had crept into the corners of your mind in the last few weeks. 

Maybe it was just a distraction for him. 

Your breakfast soured in your stomach at the idea.      

The clouds overhead began to turn a sombre grey, bringing with it the threats of a storm. 

Beside you, he’d grown impossibly still. His shoulders were taut with discomfort, “If you’re going to say it was a mistake just do us both a favour and say it.” 

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, “Was it–” you swallowed, “Was it a mistake for you?” 

“No,” he spoke with conviction, “No, it wasn’t.” 

Just as fast as the air left your lungs, they were filled, “Ohh,” you released a sigh, your head falling back onto the seat. 

“Once we get ourselves out of this we can talk about it all you want, but–”

“But, now isn’t a good time,” you finished for him, agreeing with the statement.  

“I don’t want you to think I used you like some sex-crazed caveman,” he shifted, the light of the day dwindling as we rolled down the road, the shadows from the trees creeping closer and closer to the truck. 

“I dont…” you started but he was already pulling the truck over to the side of the road. 

“I need you to know that the moment we get back to society that this,” he unbuckled his seatbelt and gestured between the two of you, “Isn’t going to end. I care for you but I need you to stay alive. So, I’m deciding for us to put things on hold because neither of us needs the distraction. It wasn’t a mistake. Do I wish I had waited until I was able to fuck you in a real bed? Kinda.” 

The first few drops of rain splattered onto the windshield, fat and heavy. 

He released the strap on his bulletproof vest to his chest and reached for my hand, “Feel this,” he brought my hand, dwarfed in his, to his racing heart. The heat radiated off his body, “That is what you do to me. Every time you look at me, or speak, or enter a room. I feel like I  can’t breathe around you. I’m terrified of you, and the possibilities that come with you,” he squeezed your hand, and he took in a shuttering breath, “And when you look at me like that,” his voice dropped and his eyes searched yours before bringing your hand lower, where you felt his member hardening. 

Your cheeks heated and you felt your own heart quicken its pace. 

The sounds of the rain became a rhythmic beat as it began to downpour, and without the windshield wipers to wipe away the downfall it was nearly impossible to see to the outside. 

He let out a low, agonizing sound when you gave him an experimental squeeze 

His attention flicked to the clock on the dash, his eyes darkening, “If I had been a smart man I wouldn’t have told Price we were leaving early. So if we take much longer it’ll raise questions,” he pulled away from you, slowly, like it was taking every sane part of him to do so, “And I’m sure you don’t want that.” 

You shook your head. You did not want to talk with Price about your extracurriculars. 

He took one last look at you, “Fuck sake,” he lifted the bottom half of his mask and pulled your lips to his. It was a chaste, desperate, open-mouth kiss. One where his hands dipped your head back to gain better access. His thumbs cradled your jaw, his fingers curling in your hair. 

It was just like the last time you kissed him. He was all fire and heat. He was explosive. 

When he finally pulled back, his lips were wet and rosy, his eyes half-lidded, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere?” he said lowly. 

You couldn’t help the sheepish smile, “I’m here.”  

His Foresight - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎@mymommmy ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎  @xheera​  ❤︎ @lockleywife​ ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae  

[saintship]

humbly would like to request konig seeing s/h scars on his s/o for the first time :’)

fun fact i got dumped one time over em one time, my ex saw em on my thigh and was like “yeah no”

First of all I’m hunting this fucker down, what the hell??

People who get stranger’s IP’s do your shit

I’m so sorry that happened to you, that little boy did not deserve you, I hope you enjoy<3

SIDE NOTE I saw a headcanon on tiktok saying “König is NOT shy” And I kinda loved that so I tried to explore it a bit

Warnings: S/H scars, revealing of traumatic events

König x Reader

Outer Patrol

Of all the assignment you cycled through, outer patrol was the easiest on the eyes. The forest surrounding the base consisted of thin birch trees packed together, so that slivers of sunlight would reach through and grace the east grounds. Your favorite was the early morning outer patrol with König—he shared your fascination with the forest, and slung a loose arm around you when it had been truly freezing last winter.

Now, in the warmth of July, the sun casted its light aggressively through the gaps of branches and leaves, the humid air clouding your thoughts.

The sticks and leaves crumpled under both of your boots, König bringing up the rear on the narrow path.

“Do you think there are bears out here?” You murmur, looking carefully through the gaps of the trees.

“Nein. We make too much noise..” König pointed out. The camp certainly made itself known during artillery drills.

You hum, letting the air settle in silence again. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, causing König to nearly topple you over.

“Hey!”

“Sh!” You hold up a gloved hand, staying as still as possible. Slowly, you lifted the other to point ahead of you, where a fox pawed at the ground, investigating the lush grass.

“That’s not a bear.” König’s whisper nearly made you laugh, but you swatted his shoulder instead, smiling.

“He’s so cute..” you whisper. The fox lifted its head, spotting the two of you and bounding away quickly.

“I guess it’s not too loud for him.” You turn around and walk backwards to face your partner as the path widens ahead.

“Maybe we’ll see kits in the spring.” König said softly.

“Aw..” You cooed at the thought, smiling.

The path continued, but there was a faint fork that led off to the right.

“Have you seen this?”

König shook his head.

You pushed back a branch, stepping through the threshold. The path was littered with overgrown ferns, bushes, and a few fallen logs you had to vault over. Finally, the path opened to a clearing, where a small stream expanded into a large pond nestled underneath a trickling waterfall. The rocky ledge slanted down, the falling water sparkling beneath the late morning sunshine.

“Oh..my god..” you breathed. You turned to see König’s reaction; he was transfixed on the water, his eyes shining under the dark paint and hood.

“This is insane..” you knelt by the water, removing a glove to feel the temperature. “Not bad. I bet people used to swim here.”

Suddenly, König’s pager buzzed, and he was broken from his trance to retrieve the device from his hip.

“König, outer patrol..” He greeted.

“Price is tellin’ me to inform everyone off base to not come back until the afternoon; apparently we’ve got more people than we’re supposed to have on the property, and the hounds are here earlier than he thought.”

Simon’s voice rang gruffly through the transmitter, sounding irritated.

“So just don’t come back for a few hours, yeah?”

“Ja.” König replied.

“Thanks, Ghost!” You called from where you knelt at the water.

“Whatever.” The line clicked, leaving them alone with the sound of running water again.

“Well, we couldn’t have been in a luckier spot to stay put.” You stated, pulling off your backpack. You set down your gun next to it and hugged your knees, watching the water.

“That is true.” König conceded. He shed the bulk of his gear, along with his weapon, but remained standing, wandering along the shoreline. He knelt for a moment, seemingly inspecting something, before standing again and tossing a stone sideways, the rock skidding a total of four times before plunging into the water.

“Woah!” You got to your feet, walking over to him. “You could go Olympic..” You found a stone that seemed thin enough, turning it over in your ungloved hand.

“Just turn your hips. Put your soul into it.” König instructed, enacting his ridiculous stone-skipping stance. You laughed a bit, but followed his direction, skipping the rock twice.

“Ha!” You threw your arms up, connecting your hands with König’s for a double high five.

“Not bad..” He chided.

The sun rose in the sky over the next hour, you and König perfectly content with skipping rocks, wrestling, and splashing each other. All the movement combined with the beating sun made for a layer of sweat underneath your uniform.

“Wish we could swim; I’m melting..” you laid on your back dramatically, feeling the warm stones through your shirt.

“Why not?”

“Because, we have work, and someone might- hey!” You sat up, gaping as König lifted his shirt. He was careful to keep his hood on, but dared to strip of his pants, boots and socks.

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but smile at his tenacity.

“Just to my waist!” König gestured to his bare torso, his black briefs and hood being the only fabric left on him. You watched as he waded in, the muscles of his back enough to have a warmth climb your neck. You look away, feeling uncertain about ogling your coworker.

“It’s so nice!”

You turned back to see him hip-deep, running his hands back and forth along the surface. The definition of his chest and shoulders was criminal, accentuated by the patterns of light reflecting off the water’s surface.

“Come on!”

“No way!” You grinned, trying to hide the sense of dread the idea brought onto your mind.

“I am willing to use force!”

“Oh, god..” you sighed, removing your boots and socks. You waded to your shins, rolling up your pants so they didn’t get wet. The water was cool, washing away the sweat prickling on your legs. “Happy?”

“I don’t think so..” He sang, wading back to the shore. The water cascaded down his lower stomach, along his thighs. You found yourself furiously studying the pebbles at your feet, rendering you unaware of König’s attack.

He lifted you from the water with damp hands, ready to drop you in the further depths. You yelped, laughing but terrified of coming back with a soaked uniform.

“Alright! Alright!” You shouted. “I’ll get in, crazy!”

A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, which sounded right by your ear as he set you down. You had felt the muscle of his chest through just a layer of fabric; the thought enough for you to avoid his eyes.

With all the laughter, you almost forgot the reason you didn’t want to undress in the first place. While König returned into the water, you pulled off your shirt, your sports bra being the only covering for your chest. The high-waisted underwear that you wore so your belt didn’t dig dents into your skin acted as bottoms, but you were hesitant to remove your pants. König noticed your labored breathing, returning to your side again.

“You don’t have to..if you really don’t want to.” He said gently, holding out a surrendering hand.

“No, it’s not..I just..” you sighed, irritated, and sat down in the sand.

“Is there something bothering you?” König’s gentle question shouldn’t have made you shrink the way it did.

“I’m sorry I pressured you, I didn’t-"

“König, it’s not your fault.” Your words escaped a bit snappier than usual, your shame building into frustration. “It’s..there are parts of myself you haven’t seen. Things that might upset you.”

König continued to look in your eyes, his concern drifting to confusion.

“There is nothing I would hold against you..” he assured. “If you want to do this, you shouldn’t hold yourself back, it’s alright.”

His words grounded you. He was right; a bodily feature is not grounds for hiding yourself away for the rest of your life when you don’t want to.

You nod, finding it easier to just get to it. Your belt came off first, the sound of the sliding leather deafening in the air of trickling water and chittering birds. Sliding your pants down your legs, the scars stretching over your thighs seemed especially defined under the sunlight. You discarded your pants, resisting the urge to cover yourself. You heard an intake of breath from König; a noise of realization.

“That is why you didn’t want to?” He asked gently.

“Scars like these don’t sit well with most people.” You murmur. Standing, you wade fully into the water, letting the water come up to your shoulders. König followed quietly, the same depth with his height letting the water only reach his sternum.

“I don’t think of you differently.” He admitted softly. “I’m honored you trust me to share something like that..I believe you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

You study his eyes for a moment, the water around you soothing your worries. “Really?”

König nodded, then let the silence stretch its legs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you wanna go under the waterfall?” König asked.

You smiled. “Your hood will get wet..”

He hummed in realization. “I suppose you’ll have to go under for two?”

You laugh gently, swimming toward the waterfall with a splash at his chest. The water fell gently, soaking your hair and cooling your scalp.

“That’s nice..” you murmured, your eyes closed. “They’re totally going to know..”

Opening your eyes, you spot König already looking your way. The water is deep enough here that the edge seams of his hood are dipping into the water.

“I think it was worth it..”

You know he doesn’t mean it was worth it to escape the heat. Or threaten to dunk you underwater, or watch you tilt your head back under a glittering waterfall. You’d admitted something raw—deeply personal. There was a tie that bound you now, separate from that military based trust that everyone shared. With the others, you’d devoted the sacrifice of your body; your role in the fight. But to one Colonel, you had devoted your mind.

[written-with-blue-ink]

Good morning, Blue. Since Gaming requests are on hold until the poll ends, how about I start with a Cyno request? Please kindly consider this Cyno request: Based on Cyno's 'Least Favorite Food' voiceline about his desert rations. The other Matras start noticing Cyno eating a pinkish jelly from a jar after mealtimes. Upon inquiry, they find out it was a jar of Zaytun Peach jelly you, the General's wife, made after he made a comment on how tasteless the rations were.

Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

Hey hon! Finally got to one of your requests! I hope you enjoy it!

Cyno X GN/Fem Reader

Sweet as Sugar

“Have you seen the General Mahamatra,” one of the newer guards asked, hands still reached out to absorb the warmth of the fire.

“No, he left sometime after dinner, he’s been doing that a lot more lately than normal,” the other responded. “He didn’t use to do this, I think something might be up? I mean, this person we’re hunting was in the same Darshan and similar year as the General… Maybe they were friends and this is upsetting him?”

The newer member nodded, looking at the direction General Cyno went before pulling himself up. “I’m gonna go looking for him. Feel free to stay here and tend the fire.”

The other nodded, watching the other walk off towards the nearby stones before turning his attention back to feeding the flames.

“General Mahamatra Cyno,” he called out, turning the corner as he let his fingers run against the aged stone. “Are you al…”

The new scout wasn’t really sure what to expect, he most certainly wasn’t expecting to find sitting in a corner General Mahamatra Cyno, one of the most terrifying men in Sumeru, huddled around a jar and mid-putting a spoonful of pinkish preservatives in his mouth. Their eyes met, catching them both off guard before the newbie said, “Yeah… I’m just gonna go now…”

- A few days prior - 

“What’s wrong?” The voice rang in his ears and a warm hand reached across the dining room table and placed on his. Her hands were warm and just the placement on his made him melt. 

“Nothing really,” he looked into your eyes as he grasped your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m just gonna miss you and your cooking on this upcoming mission.”

He looked into your eyes as he watched them narrow in the way you did as you thought, shining as gears turned in your head. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he continued, squeezing your hand before returning to the meal. 

- - -

Cyno didn’t normally sleep in but he would the day before he had to go on another mission. Rest was needed for these long journeys and his back felt better on your shared bed than on the sleeping mats they used, plus the extra time with you was exactly what he wanted. 

He felt the sun rest on his skin as he reached out but felt nothing there. He opened his eyes, the world partially blurry, to see no one next to him, an empty half of the bed. He pulled himself out of the covers, feet placed on the floor, and walked up to the door. As he pulled the food open, the smell of sweetened and stewed fruits hit his nose. 

He walked down the hall, eyes looking to the kitchen as he watched you stirring a pot and humming to yourself. Hips swaying side to side in rhythm to the spoon’s movements. He didn’t say anything, walking past you and starting the water to do the dishes. 

“What are you doing out of bed,” you question, not even looking towards him as you stir the concoction in the pot, “go rest and enjoy your day off.”

“I am enjoying myself; I’m with you,” he says, scrubbing the few dirty dishes in the sink. “What about you? Why aren’t you in bed?”

You hum, lifting up the spoon and inspecting the pink mixture. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night, about missing my food. I decided I would make something for you.”

Walking over, you lift the spoon towards his lips which he happily takes. The sugary fruits were stewed and dissolved in his mouth with minimal effort; releasing all the tension from his shoulders as he melted. “Zaytun peach preserves. I’ll make something to accompany them, I’m just not sure what yet…”

His eyes watched you in admiration. Stepping closer, he stretched upwards and placed his lips on yours. The taste of sugar was still in his mouth as he placed his hand on your forearm. As the two of you released, you couldn’t help but quip, “Well, at least I know I added enough sugar!”

[megamindsecretlair]

Qimir x reader 🥺

Ask and receive, anon! Have you been peeking at my drafts??

We Are the Night - Chapter 1

Masterlist Chapter 2

Pairing: Qimir x Jedi!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Tame, nothing explicit. There's teasing though, if you squint. Possible dark elements, but always consensual. Corruption kink. I spit on Star Wars canon. I will borrow some of Osha's backstory, but some things will be changed.

Summary: You end up crash landing onto the planet that Qimir calls home. He rescues you, but you have no way of going home, no way of letting anyone know where you are. Qimir talks a good game, but can you trust him?

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3,406

A/N: Ahhhhhh, this show has rotted my brain and I'm not even an enemies to lovers girlie! But I need that man like a bad habit! Toss a coin to your bloggers by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged howling in my asks.

Taglist: @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi

Loud, obnoxious beeping roused you into consciousness. Your eyes were gritty, dry, seemingly glued shut. But you forced them open anyway. Light from overhead seared your retinas and you shut it with a groan. You licked your dry lips and tried to turn your head.

Stars, your head was killing you. Achy. Unsettling. The beeps and alarms weren’t going anywhere, however, and you were the only one in this tin can. You didn’t remember passing out. 

You wracked your brain trying to think of what happened. But the last thing you remembered was…talking to…setting coordinates for…fuck, it was on the tip of your tongue to say it but you couldn’t find the words. 

The alarms were starting to pulse in time with your headache. You took a few deep breaths, staring up at your ceiling, which was just a glass dome overlooking the galaxy. You were speeding somewhere and it couldn’t be anywhere good if the alarms had anything to say about it. 

Tears pricked your eyes but you didn’t have time for any of that. You grunted and groaned as you climbed off of your floor. Just sitting up knocked the breath out of you. Struggling to your feet took tremendous strength that you just didn’t have. 

Your hand clutched onto the vinyl pilot’s seat as you pulled yourself to standing. A sharp pain pierced your side. The ship lurched to the right and you stumbled, knocking your shoulder against the side of the cockpit. You cried out. Everything hurt!

You gritted your teeth and found the energy to look down, inspecting yourself. You still wore the same outfit, cargo pants, a black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and your utility vest. A dark red stain spread across the expanse of your cargo pants. Your shirt soaked up much of the blood, too dark to distinguish between the two. 

You lifted the edges of your shirt to reveal a gushing wound in your side. The sight of your own blood nearly made you swoon. There was so much. You looked towards the floor where you had been laying. There was a generous pool there. Your heart sank. How long were you out?

The ship lurched again, metal ripping, gears shifting, and you stumbled forward. Your navigation panels were all over the place. Red buttons flashed, the alarm screeched, and the other screens blinked on and off. If nothing else, you were in deep fucking trouble. 

You cried out as you flopped into the pilot’s seat. The ship you were in was careening decidedly down, though you weren’t sure why. Out of the corner of your eye, there was movement. You looked to the right to see a bit of smoke. 

You leaned your face against the window, trying to look as far as you could at the gaping hole in the escape pod’s wing. Escape pod? The hell? 

The ship gave a decidedly crude groan and shutter that did not sound good at all. You flipped through your switches trying to turn the damn alarm off. You were woozy, feeling lightheaded and sick, but you needed to think. Now that you were awake, the pains and aches in your body started vying for your attention.

Your foot hurt like hell, your side was killing you, and there was a damn crick in your neck. Focus. Focus. 

You pressed the button to open a wide range channel. “H-Hello? Anyone out there? I’m in trouble,” you said. Your voice was strained, dry, and you coughed from disuse. You knew that you didn’t want to draw the attention of bad characters like pirates or opportunists. But anything was better than imminent death. 

“Please, I don’t know where I am,” you said into the comms. Nothing. No static. Tears gathered in your eyes once more. If you weren’t a failed Jedi, maybe you could figure out a way out of this. Maybe you could have used the Force, meditated and connected with someone, anyone, who could come rescue you. 

You hung your head. There’s no use crying when your life was in the balance. So you swiped at your tears, careful not to smear blood on your face, and refocused on the job at hand. One of these damn switches had to turn off the alarms. 

You grabbed hold of the steering wheel, pulling back on it. No such luck. The ship gave a shudder, a groan, a keening whine and then boom! The ship spun out of control. As the ship twisted and turned, more black smoke emanated from the right wing. Said wing was flung from the ship, spinning away from you faster and faster.

“Oh shit,” you whispered. It wasn’t necessarily needed to fly, but it kept your ship balanced and steady upon take off and arrival. How the hell were you going to land now? 

Shit, shit, shit! You strapped on the seatbelts on your seat and held on as the ship spun and spun. Spun so fast it was a dizzying array of stars overhead, making you sick, Making your stomach flip and flop and threatened to upchuck whatever your last meal was. Whenever that was. 

The ship stopped spinning as if it had been yanked by an invisible chain. Now, it just careened forward, plummeting as you felt the drop in your stomach. A blue planet loomed before you. The sun was on the far side of the planet, illuminating wondrous and endless blue. 

Shit. The last thing you needed was to land on an ocean planet. No land for miles in any direction, no navigational charts to pull you to safety, and no way to communicate that you were there. You didn’t want to die alone on a planet like that. Starved. Pathetic. 

You closed your eyes as the ship rushed towards that planet as if it were calling you there. A beacon. You had nothing but precious few seconds to think about your life’s choices and how you arrived here. At the forefront of it all, if you had just stayed with your mothers, would you have still ended up here? 

The front end of the ship began to burn up as your shields started to break down. The force and speed of your descent made the cabin burn up from entering the atmosphere. 

It was all in sickening high resolution. You watched your final moments like a holo-program, can’t watch but unable to look away. Metal plates began to break away from your ship. One flew into the windshield with a hard thud. The ship dropped down, so that you were nearly vertical staring at the expanse of water.

As you got closer, you realized that there was something worse than heading for a planet made of water. That same planet having jagged and rocky islands. You were too far away to scan for any signs of life. Equipment too badly damaged to run a digital scan. 

You prayed and prayed and hoped that the Force had mercy on you as you went crashing down. You missed a large island by yards, plunging into the murky, deep ocean. Your body snagged against the seatbelt, digging into your chest and sending fresh waves of pain down your body from the wound in your side. The inertia after the initial crash smacked you head first against the window to your left. 

Darkness filled your eyes as you blinked, watching as the ocean swallowed you whole. Alone. With no one to even know you were there.

When you awoke, you sucked in a deep breath of air as if you had been drowning. You settled back against the bed with a soft sigh, trying to recall such a horrid dream. As if you had been lost on a random planet, alone and afraid.

You flipped over in bed, side protesting in pain. You looked down at yourself. Your vest was gone and your shirt had been cut across the hem, giving you a midriff. You went to sit up, but a sudden rush of nausea made you lay back down and take deep breaths.

Your head swam with a headache that hurt enough to make you chew bricks. You rubbed your head, feeling your feverish wet skin. Your vision swam. It could be shock or it could be because you tried sitting up, but you closed your eyes and immediately fell back asleep.

When you woke up again, it was slower this time. A soft, rushing sound was off in the distance. You blinked your eyes a few times and let your vision settle naturally on the room around you.

You were in some kind of cave? Underground surely. Natural by the look of the jagged rocks surrounding you. You were lying on a bed. Not the most comfortable mattress in the world, but it beat even the Jedi temple in terms of stiffness. 

How did you get here? You had no memory of climbing into this place. Or finding a bed. Or stitching yourself up. Your hands floated over your side, feeling a faint scar as if you hadn’t had anything there at all. 

You remembered being in pain. You remembered being on the ship. It was all still so fuzzy, but you remembered that you were desperately trying to escape a different planet. You were on a ship with Sol.

Fear punched you in the throat and then dragged icy nails across your chest. Sol. Yord. Jecki. A sob caught in your throat as you thought about the horrible, awful cruelty of it all. The merchant who was not a merchant. 

You winced as you recalled your last few hours. Or was it days? You, Sol, and Jecki had barely gotten away. Your sister attacked you on the way back to the ship, fighting to get away from her master. 

Mae went on about her misconceptions about you. Spit had flown from her mouth with the absolute venom pouring off of her in waves. How she blamed you for everything. You for leaving. You for abandoning them. You for groveling like some dog before the Jedi. 

“Shut up!” You had yelled and you fought and fought. Mae was always better at using the Force. She had knocked you flat on your back. You had came to moments later, Mae nowhere in sight.

You ran for the shore as best as you were able, wound in your side preventing you from jogging faster. You had to get to Sol and Jecki before Mae did. 

You found Jecki’s body lying face down on the ground, three neat wounds in her chest still smoking. You covered your mouth with your hand, biting back tears and a scream. You were going to kill Mae, if it was the last thing you did. 

Escaping the planet was a blur. Sol hadn’t left yet. But Mae found you on the ship first. She beat you again, catching you unawares like a newborn baby. She pushed you into an escape pod, hit the eject button too quick for you to stop her. Next thing you knew, you were thrust off into space, banging on the window as if it would make a difference. Once more, you were looking up to Mae as she looked down on you. The pod went into hyperspace, off to who knew where. 

You curled in on yourself as you relived those moments. The fear, the anger, the betrayal. Mae was going to complete her goal. She was going to kill Sol and leave you with no one again.

“You’re awake,” a soft voice said.

You flinched, sitting up in bed nausea be damned. A man stood in the entrance to the cave-like room, wearing a white shirt and dark pants. His hair hung in tendrils in front of his face and he had short facial hair. 

He carried a bowl with steam rising from it. “Thought you might be up and brought you some soup,” he said.

“You,” you whispered.

How could it be? You had escaped. You were far from him. How was this murderer here? Walking freely when your friends were dead? 

“It’s not poison if that’s what you think. That’s no fun,” he said. His voice was deceptively calm and relaxed. One would almost call it lazy. 

He placed the bowl beside you and then backed away slowly, hands out, palm side up. He moved across the room until he sat down on a stump, picking up tools.

“Where am I?” 

“I could tell you…” he said, letting his words hang in the air.

“So?” You asked.

He looked back at you and smirked. “Wrong question,” he said.

“What?” You lowered the blanket from your chest, having covered yourself when Qimir entered the room. His back was towards you, there was nothing he was going to do for the moment. 

“Ask me what you really want to know,” he said. 

You ran your tongue over your canine as you looked at him in an all new light. How the hell did he know what you wanted to ask before you did? 

“How did you find me?” You asked.

“I felt you,” he said, looking up at you through his eyelashes. 

You slowly lifted the blanket back up to your chest, feeling his words rush over your skin. He was repulsive. A murderer. Evil. His words shouldn’t sound like…that or affect you like…that. 

“Not many can find this planet. It’s long forgotten on most star maps. Early this morning, I felt an approaching presence. I went outside and saw your ship, lit up like a star. Wasn’t hard to find the wreckage from there,” he said.

You wanted to call him a liar. That was what evil murderers did. But you felt nothing but the truth from him. “Thank you,” you said and looked away from him, hugging your middle.

He saluted you with two fingers from his temple and returned to whatever it was he was doing. You felt silly looking at his back. His wide back. You’ve gotten a few glances at a rough, razed scar on his back. You wondered about it but kept your mouth shut in case he was sensitive about it. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You were worried about his feelings? He was the one who had kidnapped you, brought you to this cave, and offered you poisonous soup. You didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him. 

“What is that?” You asked. Your curiosity would always get the better of you. That helmet scared the absolute taste of your mouth, but you were also deeply intrigued by it. The shape, the color. The teeth.

“Eat your soup and I’ll tell you,” he said. How the hell could he know you weren’t eating? His back was still turned towards you.

“You project your emotions,” he said. Your name slipped from his lips softly. You shook your head. 

“I do not,” you said.

Qimir chuckled and went back to fiddling with his helmet. You waited a few more moments, looking between his helmet and the bowl of soup. You didn’t want to risk sudden death, but you also really wanted to know about his helmet.

You kissed your teeth and grabbed the bowl of soup. It looked sort of appetizing, filled with soft fish and veggies. You grabbed the spoon, swirling the soup around and around the bowl. 

“You can do it,” he said. Your eyes flicked to him, and he was half turned in your direction. You scowled at him as he smirked at you. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, rising to his bait. You drank straight from the bowl, letting the herbs, spices, and flavor explode on your tongue. It wasn’t half bad for a planet with no land animals. 

Qimir smirked when you came up for air. He tapped the top of his helmet. “Cartosis. Handy against lightsabers,” he said.

“How do you have a lightsaber?” You asked. When you left the Order, you had to give yours up. You felt terrible. You had worked so hard on finding the right crystal, building your saber from the ground up. Designing it to fit perfectly in your hand. 

“You’re full of questions,” he said. 

“You’re full of non-answers,” you countered.

He tilted his head and conceded the point. “I used to be like you. Young, stars in my eyes, believing in the Order.”

“Is that how you got the scar?” You asked. Fine. You couldn’t help it. 

“I believed in someone I shouldn’t have,” he said. 

He grabbed his tools, gathered them in a box, and then stood up from his seat. “It’s like a sensory deprivation headpiece, like we used as Younglings. You should try it on,” he said. He smirked at you like he knew what your answer was going to be. 

“I’m not trying that thing on,” you said.

He smirked and you hated that look on his face. “What are you so afraid of? That you might look into the Force and have it stare right back?” 

“Is that what it’s for?” You asked. You didn’t need to get into the gritty details of your connection to the Force or lack thereof. It was about mental discipline. It all but faded from your fingertips the moment you stepped out of the temple for good.

“If you’re that curious, take a look,” he said. He smirked one final time, heading off to wherever he came from. 

“How long are you going to keep me here?” You asked.

He stopped at the entrance to the room and looked sideways at you. “That depends on you,” he said.

He left the room, leaving you to stew in your thoughts. You finished off the rest of the soup. If it was poison, at least it tasted good on the way down. Left to your own devices, there was nothing to do but either go back to sleep or stare at the helmet.

You looked at its crude design. Designed to incite fear and command respect. You recalled how fluidly he moved. How precise he was in his maddening dance of ruthlessness. How sure of himself he was.

You’d never been sure of anything in your life. You always felt like an outcast. An outsider. You floated between groups of people, never belonging to any of them. Strangely, way deep down inside, you felt a certain…pull here. A deep settling in your bones.

You shook your head, fighting off that wayward thought. You had to focus on getting out of here. Of finding his ship and escaping before he grew tired of you and killed you. 

Your eyes flitted to the helmet once more. As if it were silently calling you. Taunting you. If you strained to listen, you could just make out a voice. 

Screw it. What was the worst that could happen?

You placed the bowl on the chair in front of you and crossed the rocky floor towards Qimir’s workbench. You grabbed the helmet and sat down, staring at it. Slowly, you brought it over your head. It was larger than you thought it would be, but somehow so small you started to hyperventilate. 

All you could hear was the sound of your rapidly increasing breaths. You couldn’t see anything out of the helmet. Only feel. Hear. Your hands clutched the side of the helmet, feeling like it was crushing your skull with every breath that you took.

You felt a lazy eye open somewhere. Like you were staring at some great beast, who’s body spanned the universe. And it turned that eye on you. In a panic, you screeched and tore off the helmet, tossing it onto the desk and backed away from it. You nearly fell off of the ledge trying to get away.

You stared at the visage. The harsh smile gleaming silver. It was turned on its side, face plate towards you. Mocking you. 

You turned your back from it and leaned against a stony wall. Jagged pieces of rock bit into your palm but you welcomed the pain. Welcomed the reminder that you were alive, by the grace of Qimir, but alive. And you still had your wits about you. You were not going to let him corrupt you.

You believed in right from wrong. You believed in the side of the Jedi. If nothing else, you knew that you would never, ever side with the likes of Qimir.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

[warriorofthought]

Litte Recruit

Summary:  Sergeant Bucky Barnes teaches recruits and maybe he has a favorite one.

Word count:  4438

Warnings: mention of gun’s

Sergeant Bucky x Recruit Reader

Tonight, you and other recruits gathered around Sergeant Bucky Barnes in the armory as he demonstrated how to properly inspect a firearm. “You must always ensure that your gun is in functioning order.”  Bucky said as he pushed two fingers in and out of the empty mag of the marksman rifle, his fingertips making a languid rolling motion within the aperture to check for any defects. “Rack the bolt several times.” As  Bucky’s large and manly hands expertly handled the weapon, your thoughts were in the gutter.

You shake your head to organize your thoughts but it's almost impossible.

Bucky's deep, baritone voice interrupted your daydreaming when he said, "You never know when you'll be caught with your pants down in the field," as he turned away and started moving down the line towards you. You gulped as Bucky's hands rested on your shoulder, a faint blush dusting your face as you tried to maintain composure and focus on the firearm demonstration.

Your focus is abruptly torn away when  Bucky moves his hand to the hammer. As his fingertips gripped the hammer, you had to fight the instinct to squirm with how  Bucky's touch made your body tingle.  Bucky noticed this and decided it necessary to make a remark as he pushed down the hammer to demonstrate. "The hammer, when properly cocked, should not shake or jiggle,"

"Not shake or jiggle" you whisper and nod.

"Indeed,"  Bucky continued, pointing at the trigger, "Your trigger pull should be slow, consistent, and smooth." As he lifted his hand away,  Bucky took note of the way your gaze followed each movement of his strong, masculine hands.

You try to focus on Bucky's speech.

Bucky's hands moved towards the top handguard, turning the rifle sideways to allow inspection from the muzzle end. "Your weapon must also be clean."  Bucky pulled a cleaning rod from his drop-leg holster and poked it down the barrel to inspect the bore.

Bucky's hands ran through his hair as he continued to lecture, his fingers playing with his locks. Your gaze is drawn away from the lecture when  Bucky's hands start to fiddle with the straps of your vest, his thumb pushing into the Velcro, "And always keep your gear in good working order."  Bucky looked at you pointedly as he adjusted the strap over your left shoulder.

You nod a little bit embarrassed that you didn't put it properly on.

Though you tried to remain focused, every movement of the big Shield Soldier was simply mesmerizing to you. You felt your cheeks heat up again when  Bucky put a firm hand on your shoulder. "Are you still with me, recruit?" He asked, his voice full of authoritative confidence and power.

“Yes, sir.” Your voice firm.

Bucky nodded, his hand sliding down your arm. Your body tensed, your pulse racing as  Bucky's hand gilded downwards. The Soldier didn't seem to notice as he leaned in to look at your ear piece. "And finally, you must always maintain situational awareness."  Bucky adjusted your earpiece and whispered something in your ear.

"You've been listening well tonight."  Bucky's warm, raspy voice sent a shiver down your spine when he said this directly into your ear. He pulled away quickly and put his hands in his pockets, a faint smirk forming on his lips as he looked down the line to the next recruit.

As you look around. You can see that no one has seen the little interactions between you and the  Bucky.

No one seemed to have noticed, and the Sergeant looked unphased by the intimate moment. The recruits were still entranced by his demonstrations, their attention fixed on his skillful handling of the firearm. After a moment of silence,  Bucky barked, "Alright, that's all for tonight! Dismissed!"

You quickly pack up your items in preparation to be dismissed. As you were about to leave, Bucky called out for you to stay behind.

On his call. You stand still and wait for the others recruits to leave the room. 

The other recruits leave the room after being dismissed by the Sergeant, leaving you alone with the big Shield soldier in the empty armory. "Come here,"  Bucky said, calling over to you.

You walk up to Bucky, feeling a little nervous at the way he was looking at you. The Shield Soldier leaned on the work table, his broad, muscular body nearly filling the narrow space. Bucky's gaze remained fixated on you, his blue eyes burning into yours.

You stare back at Bucky, the close proximity between you and the big Soldier making your heart pound in your chest. The faint scent of gun oil and cigarette smoke filled your senses as  Bucky's blue eyes looked through you.

"Is something wrong? " you ask hesitant.

"I have something to tell you", Bucky said in a low, sensual voice, "And it's important that no one else hears." As Bucky looked down at you expectantly, your breath hitched in your throat.

"Okay" you nod.

Bucky leaned in closer, a faint blush spreading across his weathered face as his lips brushed your ear, "I want you." He whispered, "All of you." Though his words were direct, the tone of his voice made your heart skip a beat.

"uhh…." You say speechless.

Bucky continued to look down at you as he waited for a response, his intense blue eyes taking in every detail of your face. The big soldier's gaze was unrelenting as he continued to study you.

"Why?"

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly at your question. The big soldier remained quiet for a moment before he answered, "Because you're mine."  Bucky's words landed with a heavy weight in your stomach as he took a step towards you. His imposing presence made you shiver slightly.

You take a step back and your eyes lock with him.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed you as you took a step back. The big soldier took a step forward, pinning you between him and the table.  Bucky brought his hands to your arms and held you close, his hot breath caressing your neck. All you could do was swallow and nod.

"Maybe..... " You swallow and try to sort your thoughts " what about the other recruits?"

"I like you best,"  Bucky said, his hoarse voice filling your ears, "You're special to me." His hands shifted downwards towards your hips and his fingertips grazed your waist, "I want you to be mine."  Bucky pressed his lips to your neck as he said this, his big hands caressing your hips possessively.

"what when i don't want that?" you question confused.

"Don't think for a second that you don't love it."  Bucky pushed you against the worktable, your back pressed against its metallic surface as he leaned in. His lips kissed your ear and he whispered, "You want me. You need me." The big soldier's lips caressed your earlobe, his breath making your body tingle.

You breath quicken and your eyes flatter close. 

The big Shield Soldier stood back and looked into your eyes, his blue eyes smoldering with desire as he took in your flushed expressions. With a firm grip,  Bucky lifted you onto the worktable, his face move closer to yours.

"Sergeant " you whisper.

"Bucky," the soldier corrected, his lips never leaving yours, "Call me Bucky." As he brought his strong arms around your waist, "Only I get this from you."  Bucky brought you closer, his masculine body pushing you down on the worktable as his hands ran up and down your thighs.

Bucky used your vulnerable position on the worktable to keep you as close as possible as he brought his hands higher up your thighs. He squeezed and rubbed your soft skin, his raspy voice a mere whisper as he said, "You're so soft."

"You... You are so big " you stutter and nervously lick your lips.

Bucky chuckled as his lips left your ear and kissed your neck briefly. "That's why you love me," the big Shield soldier murmured, his grip tightening on your thighs. 

Then you heard footsteps and you froze 

Bucky stopped what he is doing and looked down at you.  When he heard the sound of footsteps, Bucky's body tensed and he moved quickly to cover you. "Shhh," he whispered, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to locate the source of the footsteps. As he tried to figure out who was approaching, his hands remained around your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You're mine, remember that."

You nod slowly.

Bucky kept you close as he tried to listen past the heavy pounding of the blood inside his ears. His raspy breath was warm against your neck, as he kept his body flush against yours. Though your mind was running wild with possible scenarios,  Bucky was hyper-focused on the approaching footsteps, his blue eyes shifting between the various doorways entering the armory.

As he continued to listen to the approaching footsteps,  Bucky looked back down at you and whispered, "Stay calm."  Bucky kept his body over yours and his hand over your mouth. He remained tense as he listened intently to the footsteps, his mind racing with thoughts of who may be approaching. His head was slightly tilted, his neck muscles tightening as he waited to see who might walk through the doors.

Your instincts took over and you quickly pushed Bucky away. As  Bucky stumbled back, your eyes went wide when a pair of footsteps entered the room. "Hello, Sergeant," the woman spoke softly as her eyes swept the room, "What are you doing in here so late?" As the woman looked around the room, she did not notice you hiding under the worktable.

You close your eyes for a moment and relax. Then you follow the action again.

You opened your eyes shortly after the woman entered, your eyes darting between the two as the woman's voice tried to allure the big Shield soldier.

"Hello, Bucky," the woman said in a sultry voice as she moved closer to him, "I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing in here all by yourself? You were so busy with the recent recruit training, I didn't want to interrupt you." The woman moved closer to  Bucky, her hand touching his broad shoulder and her lips moving ever closer to his ear.

Your eyes widen slightly. 

Bucky's eyes fluttered with surprise as he stepped back from the woman's touch. As his mind tried to process what was happening, the woman pressed her body against his and whispered into his ear, "Let's go somewhere more... private." She pulled him close and nuzzled his neck, her voice a lustful purr as she said, "Do you like what you see?"  Bucky was unable to respond, his voice catching in his throat as the woman continued to seduce him.

Your heart becomes heavy. You try to look away and hope that Bucky meant it seriously with you and does not respond to the woman.

Bucky took a step back and cleared his throat but the woman followed him, her voice becoming more desperate as she spoke, "You've caught me looking at you,  Bucky. You must have known I'd be attracted to a man like you?"  Bucky could feel the woman's warm breath on his neck as she looked up into his eyes and tried to kiss him. "Do you find me appealing?" She asked.

In Bucky's mind, you appear a scenario is playing out. How hurt you are by what he did.  In his mind he sees you ignoring him not looking at him anymore. When he lets other people touch him. 

The thought that you don't want him anymore, if he cheats on you now, hurts him. 

Bucky looked at the woman with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. As the woman continued to try and seduce him,  Bucky closed his eyes and pictured you ignoring him. The image hurt him as it drove home the reality of what was happening. Bucky's brain was filled with scenarios of you ignoring, avoiding, and moving on from him. The thought of him cheating on you hurt him deeply and made him realize the gravity of what he was doing.

In his mind,  Bucky began to see you more clearly as he pictured what you looked like when you were upset and distraught.

The thought of hurting you was not something Bucky could bear again, and his eyes widened with panic in his mind. He imagined seeing you sad, cold, and distant, and the image made him feel physically ill.  Bucky looked at the woman in front of him, his brain filled with thoughts of you as she slowly traced a line down his jaw, "Do I appeal to you? Do I make you feel good, Bucky?" The woman's voice was soft and soothing as she tried to seduce  Bucky, her warm touch on his skin making him shudder involuntarily.

The woman's touch feel disgusting for  Bucky. 

"Please stop,"  Bucky whispered, his eyes filled with discomfort, as he tried to move away from the woman. The big Shield soldier tried to push her away but she persisted, her grip on him tight as she leaned in closer, "I want more."  Bucky tried to get away from the woman but she held on even tighter, her hands running up and down his body as she spoke, "Don't you want this? Is my body not attractive enough for you?" Her words were a stark contrast to the feelings  Bucky was experiencing in his mind.

You can see the panic and discomfort in  Bucky's eyes. So you decide to help him. Unnoticed by the woman, you go to the door and then open it, pretending to enter the room. 

The relief was palpable in  Bucky's expression as his eyes locked with you when you opened the door. His face turned to annoyance and disgust as the woman continued to try and seduce him. He tried to push her away once more but the woman held onto him, running her hands down his broad physique and leaning in closer to speak in his ear.  Bucky was clearly uncomfortable and not comfortable with what the woman was doing.

"Sergeant, that's a training room. Such a thing should not be done here " you question as a recruit.

The woman turned to look at you with surprise, her lustful expression transforming into one of shock and horror. "But, Sergeant," the woman said, "Surely you're a man of action. Why not enjoy yourself? Why not take a pretty woman to your bed and enjoy something new?" As the woman's voice became more demanding, and her grip on  Bucky became tighter,  Bucky gave you a pleading look from the corner of his eye. "For God's sake,"  Bucky whispered, his tone quiet and tense, "help me."

"Even though I'm just a recruit, I see that, you, Miss. Cross the border of the Sergeant. Or should I get help. I'm sure you won't like it"  you say firmly. 

The woman's expression went from shocked to angry, "Help from who? What is a little recruit going to do about anything??" Her voice was stern as she looked down at you and moved closer to  Bucky. "I have everything under control," the woman hissed, her tone a stark contrast to your calm, polite demeanor.  Bucky looked over at you with a desperate look in his eyes and gave a slight nod.

"I can go to the general, I'm sure he will help with this." You prompt.

"And what will you tell him, little recruit? That Sergeant  Bucky was trying to enjoy the company of a beautiful, younger woman?" The woman leaned in closer and tried to whisper in  Bucky's ear, as her tone became more seductive and inviting, "Or will you keep your mouth shut and let us have our fun?" The woman began to inch towards  Bucky's lips, her breath warm on his skin.

"I won't go. He is uncomfortable with you."

"Oh he does enjoy me," the woman purred seductively, as her hands began to wander and explore  Bucky's body. Her expression turned to amusement as she continued to try and seduce the uncomfortable big Shield soldier. "He's just playing hard to get," she whispered, her voice an inviting purr as she leaned in closer to  Bucky's ear. "Don't you enjoy this?" The woman's warm breath was on his neck and her hand began to caress the bulge of  Bucky's muscular biceps. Annoyed you stand between the two. "Woman, you're breaking the rules."

The woman looked confused as you stood between the two but her seductive expression changed to a cruel frown as she responded, "Who are you to question me? A lowly recruit?" The woman looked back at  Bucky and continued to try and seduce him, her voice becoming more demanding and aggressive, "I thought soldiers enjoyed a good time with a woman. I'm trying to provide Sergeant  Bucky with some stress relief."

"He don't need a whore like you that don't know when's enough "

The woman's expression turned dark as she looked back at you, her face filled with a mixture of hurt and annoyance. "Excuse me?" She spoke sharply as she looked back at  Bucky, "Are you implying that I'm a whore?" The big Shield soldier looked back and forth between the two of you as the woman continued to attack you with her words, her expression full of anger. "A recruit... calling a woman a whore... do you know your place?" The woman took a step towards you and spoke sternly as she looked down at you.

"I know my place but clearly you don't " you say calmly.

"Well then, since you know so much," the woman said with a snide grin, "how about you tell me, little recruit, where is my place?" The woman looked at you as if she was daring you to respond, her tone sarcastic and mocking. Your calm manner, however, seemed to only exacerbate her annoyance as she waited for you to respond.

"Your place is outside this room" gently and reassuringly your hand points to the door.

The woman looked at you in shock as she processed what you said and took a step back, clearly offended. She looked back at  Bucky, her face filled with anger as she saw him looking at her with a stern expression. Her eyes suddenly widened as she looked back at you, her voice taking on a threatening tone, "And who is going to make me leave? You, little recruit?"

"When the Sergeant wants that, yes." your eyes stay firmly on her's.

Bucky's face remained stern as he looked at the woman. The big Shield soldier seemed to be contemplating your words a moment before he spoke up and said, "The recruit's right, I would like you to leave." The woman looked surprised as  Bucky spoke up, her expression turning into one of anger and annoyance. "And if I refuse to do so?" The woman's words were a stark contrast to  Bucky's, as she stood defiant in front of the big soldier.

"I'll help you out then" you say strongly. 

Bucky looked surprised when you stepped up for him, as the big Shield soldier was not expecting support from a recruit.  Bucky looked at you with a grateful smile, as he didn't want to have to cause a scene with the woman. As  Bucky's expression turned to a smile, the woman's expression transformed into one of anger and disbelief. The woman looked at you angrily and spoke sharply to you, "Little recruit, who do you think you are?"

"I'm a recruit, nothing else" you say calmly,  " you should go now." 

Bucky looked at you with gratitude and respect as he saw how you remained calm in front of the woman.  Bucky's eyes darted between you and the woman as he remained alert in case the situation escalated. The woman looked at you in annoyance and frustration, "A recruit is telling me to leave? Do you know who I am?" The woman shook her head and continued to look at you with anger as she spoke, "I'm not going anywhere."

" I don't know who you are, but I have treated you with respect. And I think it's time for you to go"  you say strict but calm

The woman looked surprised at your tone but remained defiant, "I don't think it's time for me to leave. I believe I'm making Sergeant Bucky very happy, and if he wants me to stay for the evening, then I will stay." The woman looked at  Bucky and spoke seductively to him, "Don't you want me to stay, sweetheart? Don't you find me desirable?" As the woman continued to try and seduce Bucky, Bucky looked over at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

You nod and gently grab the woman's arm and lead her out. The woman looked down at your hand on her arm with surprise, as she had not seen you move towards her. As she turned to look at you, she spoke sharply, "Don't touch me, little recruit." But your grip remained firm as you pulled her out of the training room and into the hall. Despite her protests, the woman couldn't stop you and had no choice but to follow your lead.

The woman looked frustrated as she was pulled out of the room but Bucky's eyes lit up with relief when he saw the door closed.  Bucky looked at you with appreciation as he spoke, "Thank you, little recruit."  Bucky's face was serious as he looked at you and spoke, "You did not have to step up for me."  Bucky's tone was firm when he continued, "I am a big boy, I could've handled her myself."

"I'm sorry if I've crossed a line" 

Bucky's eyes softened when he looked at you and he shook his head, "It's alright, little recruit. I appreciate your help."  Bucky's voice was calm as he spoke, the big soldier seeming like a different man entirely after the event with the woman.  Bucky looked at you with a grateful smile and continued speaking calmly, "You handled the situation well, I could tell she was trying to goad you into conflict."

"thank you, then i go now, good night Sergeant" 

Bucky's face suddenly brightened when you spoke, "Good night, little recruit."  Bucky gave you a warm smile, his voice soft and gentle, as if the previous events did not even happen. As you turned to leave,  Bucky spoke up to you, his voice slightly firmer with a hint of irritation, "And do not tell anyone about this."  Bucky's tone was still soft but there was a warning in his voice, his voice becoming more serious as he spoke, "Do you understand?"

"I understand, nothing has happened here," you nod. 

Bucky looked relieved when you responded to his order, his expression becoming more relaxed and calm. His voice returned to the soft tone he was speaking in before, "Good, thank you. Now go on, I should go back to my room before I run into more trouble."  Bucky spoke with a smile, seeming to have completely forgotten about the woman who had just tried to seduce him. But before he turned away,  Bucky spoke once more, "Thank you, little recruit."

As you walked away, Bucky watched you go, feeling a rush of emotions he wasn’t used to.. relief, gratitude and a strange warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew he should just let you go and call it a night, but something about the way you had stood up for him lingered in his mind.

Sighing, Bucky found himself wandering the halls until he eventually stumbled upon you again, sitting alone on a bench outside, gazing up at the stars. You looked peaceful, your face relaxed as the cool night air played with your hair. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in your own thoughts, but when he approached, you glanced up, startled but quickly relaxed when you saw who it was.

“Sergeant,” you greeted softly, a gentle smile on your lips. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Bucky shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Not really. Just... thinking.” He paused, then added “About tonight.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. “It’s okay, Sergeant. You don’t have to explain. I’m glad I could help.”

Bucky smiled, a rare and genuine smile that reached his eyes. “You’re a tough one, little recruit” he said, his voice soft with a hint of admiration. “Not many would’ve stepped in like that. You didn’t even hesitate.”

You shrugged lightly, feeling a bit bashful under his gaze. “You looked like you needed help. Sometimes, a little push from someone is all it takes.”

Bucky chuckled at your words, finding comfort in them. “You’re right. I guess I’m not used to people looking out for me.” He looked at you with an appreciative smile. “But you… you’re something else.”

He sat down beside you, the bench creaking slightly under his weight. You both stared up at the stars, the silence between you feeling natural, not awkward. It was quiet, but it wasn’t empty.. there was an unspoken understanding that made the moment feel right.

“Y’know, little recruit,” Bucky started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’ve seen a lot of things in my time. Been through a lot. But someone standing up for me, like you did? That’s... rare.”

You glanced at him, noticing the sincerity in his eyes. “You deserve it, Sergeant. Even soldiers need someone in their corner.”

Bucky nodded slowly, mulling over your words. He reached over, almost instinctively, and ruffled your hair lightly, a playful gesture, one that spoke of a newfound fondness. “You’re alright, little recruit,” he said, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “I think I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you.”

You laughed softly, feeling a flutter of pride. “Guess that makes two of us, then.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet night and each other’s company. Bucky’s hand brushed against yours on the bench, and instead of pulling away, he let it rest there, finding comfort in the small but significant touch.

“Thanks again,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

“Anytime, Sergeant,” you replied, smiling at him. “I’ve got your back.”

And with that simple promise, Bucky knew that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d seek out the “little recruit” who had unexpectedly become his quiet source of strength. Tonight, sitting under the stars with you by his side, everything felt a little bit lighter, a little bit more hopeful.

[moon-my-beloved]

Run: (Eventual 141 x Vamp! Reader, but first let’s start from the beginning. 🕯️)

Bloodied, injured, and exhausted, Laswell finds herself in the last place she would like to be lost in: the woods. After escaping what was supposed to be her ultimate death, Kate wanders off into the wilderness in hopes of finding refuge. She is unlikely to make it out of this situation alive.. at least that’s what she thought.

TW: blood, mentions of a gun shot wound, reader can be considered as fem but anyone is welcomed to read it! that’s pretty much it babes. xoxo

— September 15, 1996. Location: Unknown

If you were to ask Kate Laswell where she would be in the last twenty-four hours, she wouldn’t even muster the thought of being in the most unpleasant and unfortunate positions. Nothing surprised her anymore, not when you were doing work that’s perceived as illegal, unethical, and dangerous. Kate knew this. She understood this job would bring unavoidable losses, sacrifices, and risks. She knew it as soon as she signed those papers to get her hands dirty. To keep the world safe from such cruelty she had and has to see. This was her life now and she was okay with it.. That was, until now.

Kate had no fucking idea where she was going. She had been running for god knows how long once she heard the sound of booming voices echoing through the hallway as they made their way into the small base. Slamming, kicking, and taking doors down to the ground from the other side of the building. She had been finishing up her last report when she and her team were ambushed. Things taking a dark turn before the gears in Laswell’s head could even process what was going on. ‘So much for being under high surveillance.’

She didn’t manage to get much. Just her laptop, a few files that read ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ in red bold letters, an already messed up USB along with a crappy radio in hopes of getting in contact with the agency before she was bolting to the nearest exit she could find. Her colleagues were long gone, she knew it. She heard it.

She didn’t have much time, barely managing to escape bullets flying past her while throwing her leg over the sill of the window and deciding that it was a safe enough jump for a three-story building. Her ribs making immediate contact with the grass and soiled dirt in an attempt to shield her prized possessions from meeting their ultimate death.

Managing to catch her breath, she shot up. The denim of her jeans and shirt soaking up all the mud from the fall. It was uncomfortable the way the material stuck itself to her skin, but that was the least of her concerns at this point. The wet ground made an irking ‘squelch’ with each stride she took, sprinting through the trees mindlessly to wherever the woods would take her. If she even got far enough.

‘Just keep running Laswell. Run and find somewhere to hide.’

And that she did. Chanting those two sentences over and over again like it was a damn prayer. Running to the woods was probably a bad idea, but where else would she have gone? The base was just a small pebble in the middle of endless trees. It was pitch dark and it was getting cold. No noise at all except for the ringing in her ears and the rustling of leaves she left behind. You could only go so far with adrenaline running through your veins before it eventually runs out.

She must have been far away now. At least enough to catch her breath now that she feels her body crashing down from that pure bliss of epinephrine. Strands of hair sticking to her forehead from exhaustion. Not even noticing the big crimson spot forming on her thigh but hell could she feel it now. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead by now.

She must have gotten hit when she was trying to get out. ‘Shit. Okay, okay, everything’s going to be fine.’ Hissing through her teeth, she reaches out to inspect it. Leaning down against the trunk of one of the many trees and lifting her leg to get a better view. The glow of the moon blessing her with enough light for her to see the big gaping hole in her jeans. Did it go through? She had no idea. Too busy focusing on not face-planting on the dirty ground as her sight grew dim with the amount of blood she had lost. Skin glistening with all the sweat she was accumulating despite feeling more cold than usual. A shiver running down her spine and teeth clattering against each other. She felt like a whole bucket of ice just got dumped on her.

‘Getting eaten alive by nature wouldn’t be such a bad way to go,’ She thinks to herself. But before she could feed into the thought some more and become one with the food chain, she zeroes in on a roof. Seemingly making itself known from behind the leaves of the too tall trees.

‘She can make it. Just a little further.’

She takes a deep breath as she pushes herself off the trunk, biting down on her bottom lip to keep a cry from slipping into the night. The pain was getting worse. A hot, almost burning sensation spread throughout her thigh and body. She tries not to put too much pressure on her leg and slowly walks (more like drags) her way down the dark trail just enough to catch a better glimpse of the house. It’s big. It’s undeniably huge the more she gets closer to it. It’s not just a house, it’s a manor. What is a manor doing in the middle of the woods? Well, with how old and unkempt it looks, she wouldn’t blame anyone if they mistook it as one with the trees considering how roots, stems, vines, and leaves seem to be sprouting from every corner of the walls. It looks abandoned, that's for sure. No one would live in the middle of nowhere where there’s no food source let alone transportation.

Taking a look around, Kate sees nothing. No neighboring houses, cars, or bicycles that would hint at any sign of life. Not even a rolled-up piece of newspaper was left scattered on the ground. It’s secluded, but so out of place that it makes Laswell’s gut twist with uneasiness. Either no one lives here or nobody knows this place even exists. The thought alone just makes her more hesitant to try and figure out the truth. The unbearable pain only got worse the more she stood there thinking of what to do next.

‘Fuck it.’

If she was going to die, she would at least die with some dignity left in her. Mustering up all the strength she could, she limped her way towards the door. Dread filled her senses once she noticed that she would have to climb a few steps of stairs before she could finally reach the handle. Trying not to put too much pressure on her bad leg, she settles on hopping up the stairs with her good one. Her body must have decided that she had enough once she made it to the last step and before she knew it, she was falling into the abyss, her ears ringing endlessly until there was nothing but darkness.

⛰︎↟ ⛰︎↟ ⛰︎↟

The first thing Kate notices when she wakes up is the softness and warmth surrounding her. The smell of something sweet and earthy filling her nose as she ponders what it might be. Patchouli? Lavender? Maybe it’s vanilla bean.. whatever it is, it’s comforting. An overwhelming sense of tranquility washing over her body as she shifts onto the other side of the cushion– wait. Cushion?

The realization dawns on her as she sits up abruptly, eyes flying open in confusion and fear. She was on a couch, a nice one. Pillowy cushions with a smooth texture to them as she traced her palm against the velvet fabric. The ringing in her ear interrupted her yet again as a pained groan slipped past her lips now that she was fully conscious. She sits there for a while until the tinnitus stops, hand pressed up against her head as she frantically takes in her surroundings. She was inside the manor, in the living room from what it appeared to be. The interior of it was much more.. beautiful. A complete contrast to what it looked like from outside. A dim, golden glow cascading over the room with how the lamp beside her shined. Across from her there was a fireplace, freshly lit on that she could still feel the heat of it lingering in the air. In front of her there was a table, shiny wood reflecting on itself. Everything looked so antique. Whoever lived here was either filthy rich or was stuck in the eighteenth century.

Her train of thought was disrupted when she heard the sound of a voice, head whipping to see who was the source of it.

“Finally awake?” The figure asks, tray in your hand as you carefully inch closer to her. “Didn’t know what you prefer so I sett-”

“Don’t come closer,” Kate states, twisting the blanket around her fingers and pressing her back against the corner of the couch. “Who are you? Where am I?” She sputters out, a hint of demand in her tone. For all she knows, you could be someone out to kill her. Laswell couldn’t risk herself putting her trust on a complete stranger. Let alone one she couldn’t see. Your face was completely covered by a veil of some sorts, only managing to catch a small silhouette of your face with how the material pressed up against your features. Your choice of clothing was rather modest and old-fashioned. You weren’t one for color, Laswell assumed. The color black consuming your form from your long-sleeved shirt down to your long black skirt, boots barely peeking out from under the material.

“You mustn’t move too much, wouldn’t want you to open your wound after all my hard work.” You said, dismissing her questions while carefully setting the tray down against the table, and pouring her a cup of tea. “It’s herbal tea, it’s good.” You added, carefully pushing the porcelain cup towards her as you kept your distance. Wound? Oh. She must have hit her head pretty hard when she passed out, throwing the blanket off of her to reveal her bandaged thigh. It didn’t even hurt anymore, eyebrows furrowed and mouth gaping with bewilderment. It felt like she never even got shot. Had she come across a witch of some sort?

“Uh.. thank you?” She mutters, leaning a bit to grab the cup carefully to take a sip of the warm beverage. Mhm. It’s delicious. Usually, she preferred to drink coffee on days where missions like these kept her up until the crack of dawn. Yet, here she was drinking tea with an odd stranger after almost getting killed. An awkward silence filled the room, followed by the sound of her sips as you sat across from her in an armchair. Legs crossed with your hands placed in front of your lap, not particularly looking at her but your body language signaling that you were acknowledging her presence. “You were gone for quite some time. Thought you would never wake up,” You finally said. Head turning to face her. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Yeah.. I ran into some trouble..” It wasn’t a complete lie, she wasn’t about to spill private information to you just because you’ve been polite to her so far. It all could be an act. You can never be too sure.

You must have detected her uneasiness towards you, getting up suddenly to exit the room before coming back with her belongings. “I didn’t peek through your things if that’s what you’re worried about. Whatever your dilemma is, that is none of my concern,” You said rather abruptly, dropping her stuff beside her. Kate was ready to throw a glare at your direction for handling her things with no care just to see your covered face already facing her. She might not be able to see you how you look, but she can feel your eyes pinning her in place through the fabric like an unseen force. “I can take you to an area where your friends can come and pick you up,” You explain, reaching out to grab the radio and tapping your fingernail against it. “If you promise me one thing.” You say, tone eerily stoic. “Never come back here, understand?”

Feeling paralyzed under your gaze, she nodded. Clammy hands gripping onto her things as she threw her legs over the couch. Feet planting against the patterned carpet. ‘Where were her shoes?’ As if you read her mind, you drop her muddied boots next to her. “I’ll wait for you by the door. Hurry up.” Before she could even manage a word, you were rounding the corner of the living room and disappearing into the shadows of the enormous manor.

‘She needs to get the fuck out of here.’

Without a second thought, she hastily put her boots on, not even caring to properly tie her shoelaces. Her thoughts were all over the place. First, the mission was an absolute failure that cost the lives of people, and probably much worse for those who didn’t manage to escape. Second, she wanders off into the wilderness in hopes of finding an empty flat to hide in until she could contact the damn general only to faint and find herself inside someone else’s home. Now, she’s here. Struggling to get in contact with the intelligence unit. Just her luck.

“This is Kate Laswell, do you copy? Over.” Static. That’s all she’s been hearing for the past five minutes and her patience was wearing thin. “This is Kate Laswell, CIA communications analyst. Do you co—”

A voice from the other end of the line speaks. She recognizes that voice. Joseph Allen, chief of the communications department she works for within the agency. “Bravo-4, we hear you loud and clear Laswell. What’s your status?” Allen asks, a hint of concern laced in his tone that makes her feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. “It’s good to hear you, Allen.. I-I’m doing okay. A bit roughed up, but alive and well,” She stammers a bit, clutching onto her things before taking a deep breath in. “Don’t worry Kate, we’ll get you out of there in no time. Sending a chopper your way. Hang tight.” The man reassures her, stating how there would be a few soldiers waiting to bring her back. With that, she bids her goodbyes to the chief, swiftly grabbing her things, and slowly approaching you.

The door was cracked open beside you as you waited for her arrival. Silently, you beckon her to go first. The bright light and melody of birds chirping greeting her as she takes her first steps. A new day has come. It was nighttime when she stumbled upon your house, but now that the sun has come up, she has a clear view of the environment. Trees as tall as ever, a bit less intimidating with light now. Her boots stepped on dried leaves with fall inching closer, a crisp, cold wind hitting her face sending shivers down Laswell’s spine. Everything was much brighter, more alive.

That feeling of peace was short-lived, hearing you close the door and start walking off into the woods without even looking back if she was following. You hadn’t mentioned where exactly you were taking her, doubt sending warning bells in her brain not to follow you. Burying her nerves, the woman caught up to you, keeping her distance as she trailed behind you with a wary look. This was probably the only chance for her to get home, she couldn’t risk losing it. ‘This job would bring unavoidable losses, sacrifices, and risks.’ She reminded herself.

⛰︎↟ ⛰︎↟ ⛰︎↟

Laswell didn’t know how long the two of you were walking for. An hour at least from how her feet were starting to get sore. This whole time, you haven’t said anything. Not a peep or glance her way. You were undeniably quiet. In fact, a little too quiet for her own comfort. With every step you took, it was like you were floating. Pristine and soundless. The crunch of leaves being heard by her own movements. Creepy.

Finding the courage, she spoke up. “How long have you been here for? It’s well hidden from the outside world.” She inquired, making a show of looking around to distract herself from her own self-consciousness. Shockingly, you halt in your steps, almost like you weren’t expecting her to ask questions, let alone about you.

“I’ve been here for most of my life. It was my family’s home originally. They’ve passed long ago now, leaving me with it.” You admit. Irritation lacing your tone at the mention of your parents. Must not have a good relationship with them. She couldn’t blame you, her relationship with hers was rather.. complicated. She barely saw them but on days she did, all she saw was disappointment and disgust. Partly because of her job, and the other half when they found out that their good daughter didn’t meet their traditional standards. She was fine with that. Sometimes she couldn’t bear to see their faces let alone hear them. It was for the best. Still, she felt bad for asking.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I did-” You wave a hand dismissively, turning around to face her. “No need.”

Laswell didn’t ask any more questions. A few minutes passed by before you stopped in your tracks. “We are here.” You announced. Nothing seemed to be too out of the ordinary, it was much more spacious, trees surrounding the empty land they were on, a few rocks covered in moss along with a few violets blooming in purples and whites. Perhaps this was a common area for hitchhikers to be rescued for those who got lost. ‘You probably encounter plenty of people carelessly wandering into the woods.’

“Well, this is where we go our separate ways.” You say, turning around without a goodbye and beginning to walk back into the endless path. Not putting too much thought into it, Laswell calls out for you. “Wait!” She shouts, watching you stop, and turn around to meet her nervous gaze. “I just wanted to say thank you.. for everything.” Laswell admits, a gust of wind passing between you two as you continue to stay silent. “I never got your name, I’m Kate, Kate Laswell.” She says, almost breathlessly. Anticipation filling her senses as you grab onto the corner of the piece of cloth and lift it up. Immediately, she’s struck by the void of your eyes. A small smile she could only describe as sad decorating your face before you opened your mouth.

“Don’t worry, you’ll forget.”

Laswell didn’t have the chance to ask what you meant before her knees buckled, making her lose her balance and fall to the ground. Black dots taking over her vision. She was immobile, unable to speak or move as she watched you disappear into the trees. Laswell felt herself being disassembled from her own body, a voice in the back of her mind begging her to get up. She couldn't. Her vision slowly dimmed, a force luring her into the abyss again until she couldn’t reach the top of the ocean and let the darkness consume her as a whole.

(A/N: I’ve had this whole idea planned out already for quite some time but never really could commit to it, until now!! I’m so happy I got to finish it after months. Hope you guys enjoy! <33)

[billythesimp]

Found Family

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎...

Prompt Idea: A child is found by the Belobog crew in a hollow and taken back to their work site. Cue how each would interact and babysit the kid.

I wanted something wholesome since Belobog Industry is my second favorite factor. Victoria Housekeeping being number one for now!

Gn!Kid since it was easier to write.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙

tw: slight angst? , very much fluff

While some workers were clearing out the rubble of another one of their machine’s drills. They followed the protocol given to them for a safe work environment within the hollows- protective gear, keeping an eye on their environment, and most important of all; Watching out for any ethereal in the area. While cleaning and prepping their machines, an alarm for distress goes off somewhere, some nearby workers giving each other a look before calling in for a higher up to join in their inspection.

It wasn’t abnormal for machines to break or require maintenance, but since their tech was highly advanced and used rather expensive parts, it was always important to check in if a distress signal was real or another one of Grace’s children having another outburst. After all, they did have that incident a couple of weeks ago, they couldn’t be sure until they really looked.

Upon further inspection of where they left the boring machine in question, a worker gasps as they pull out their walkie talkie, another rushing forward on the scene as their boring machine along with another drilling machine are crowding around what looks to be the size of a small Bangboo. But upon further inspection, it turns out to be more surprising.

“Hey, we need someone down here stat! There’s a kid on the site!” 

At first, Grace was more so worried about the news that one of her machines had sent out a distress signal. She arrived shortly after receiving news that her children had found something. Of course, she would be planning on scheduling an inspection to ensure nothing had affected their wiring but what she hadn’t expected was to be greeted by a little kid looking at her from behind one of the boring machine’s legs. She blinked slowly before the gears started turning in her head before lowering to the child's level, a soft expression on her face while trying to cox the child towards her and away from the potential danger.

“Hey there, dear. Come here, we won’t hurt you.” How did a kid get on site nonetheless, a  hollow at that. Slowly she was able to grab the kid, lifting them to her hip before requesting that PubSec be contacted for a lost child report.

While PubSec had filed the report and suggested in taking the kid with them, the little kid had suddenly grown attached to Grace. Fear in their little eyes as they hid behind the women’s legs, grasping her tailcoat. Grace then suggests that since she had entered the hollow most likely nearby, it would be best to try to find any parent or guardian nearby the hollow looking for a kid. For the time being, they would take responsibility for watching the kid. "Come on pumpkin, lets get you in the office, it'll be nice and refreshing in there. Better then inside that hollow I bet."

⋈ At first it seemed like a good idea, but after a while Grace started to realize just what she had gotten herself into. While she did have a hand in raising Koleda after the disappearance of her father, Koleda was a lot older than this kid here. She would constantly chase after the little one, warning them to be careful around her workshop and stopping them from leaving the office- as to not have any injuries with any machinery outside and in. It reminded her just how energetic children could be, let alone human ones. But she still gets those heartwarming memories of Koleda as a kid, wondrous eyes as she wandered around her dad’s shop. 

⋈ Sometimes, at random, Grace will feel the little hands tugging at her coat wanting her attention. She’d get little things they would find. A cool rock, some old wrench she lost a while ago, even a loose screw that she doesn’t know where it came from. Of course, she kept them in her pockets, smiling as the kid shyly expressed their glee and skipping away to either watch the workers out the window or find some more things around. Grace wishes she could show this kid around the place, taking notice of all the little things they take an interest in and try to explain to them what they do or what they are for. 

⋈ Though she doesn’t mind their presence that much and in fact enjoys it a lot, taking care of the little tyke reminded her just how hard it really was so she agrees that she enjoys her controlled chaos that comes with her mechanical children. But who can say no to that cute chubby smile of theirs. 

“Ah, Pumpkin! Don’t touch that, you could get hurt. Oh geez, don’t look at me like that. You knew it was off limits… ah why do you have to be so cute- how about I show you outside a little? Will that make you happy pumpkin?” The little kid stares with large eyes, blinking while nodding their head, reaching to take her hand which Grace doesn’t miss. Gushing about how cute they are skipping alongside her. 

Ben may look really intimidating at first, with that scar on his face and those gruff grizzly bear genes of his, but he is a softy at heart. So when others see him, they always perk up and show him respect, not wanting to get on his bad side even when he’s only passing by or addressing a concern of his in the workplace. He doesn’t mind this reaction, it’s almost expected at this point but sometimes even the little things catch him off guard. Especially when some kid comes running up to him to give him a hug.

“Teddy!” The gleeful squeal of a child catches his attention, turning in time to see a little kid escaping Grace’s grasp to run towards his looming figure. Sure they have many bear workers on site, but why would this kid go after him specifically? “Huh? Oh hello there little cub. What are you doing here?” 

“Teddy! Teddy!” They bounce on their toes as they take a hold of his hand, nudging it happily as Ben could only gruff out a confused snort. “I’m not teddy? My name is Ben, Ben Bigger.” Before Grace could apologize for the interruption, the child's eyes sparkled up at him before grinning wildly, “Benny!”

⋈ Affectionately known as Benny now, Ben tries to resume his work but is now followed around by the little cub, the kid imitating him from time to time only to turn into a fit of giggles as they pretended to be watching something else when he turns to look at them. Of course, it was a cute sight, a grizzly grin on his muzzle from time to time as he watched his step with his newest crew member. Many of the other workers found the sight rather cute, Ben wandering around to ensure stock or filing reports while a small child wearing a hard hat trails behind.

⋈ When entering a dangerous area or going up a lift, he made sure their guest was close behind him, holding their hand or even carrying them on his shoulders so they can have a better view of the construction sight. While they are given a piggyback, they will run their little hands over his fur and mumble about how soft Benny is. He doesn’t mind seeing as they are just a kid, though he just hopes they don’t make his hair look too unkempt and messy. Ears flicking as they giggles and curl up against his head in a small snuggle. 

⋈ “How’s the view up there?” He asks looking up at them with his one good eye, hands grasping his fur firm enough not to hurt but stay put. They are on one of the scaffoldings with some other workers, taking inventory. “Huge! I wanna see it all!” Ben only grins before returning to the matter at hand, one of his workers mentioning how the kid makes Ben seem more friendlier, many having approached him to ask about the kid or greet them both, said child waving shyly at everyone while cowarding behind Ben. All the wild, Ben notices an increase of work production as of the last hour. Hmm, wonder why.

⋈ All together, Ben is rather gentle and caring with the kid, being more gentle and soft spoken when addressing them. He does his best not to put them in danger all while keeping them entertained, even involving them in the more fun projects like mixing paints. His ears flickering whenever the childish glee of ‘Benny’ is announced, little hands taking his larger paws while they speak about what they did in their very broken, little English. 

“You mixed some more paints? That’s great! Maybe one day, you’ll be a hard working construction worker with that attitude.” He crouches down to their height, ruffling their hair while they smile at his praise, “I can already see it now, you might even be a better worker than me.”

“Benny the best! Number 1!” They cheer, Ben’s claw pressed against his chest as a heartwarming feeling engulfs his heart, rosy flowers seeming to appear around him before his attention is called upon.

“Let’s get moving now, can’t be late.”

It was roughly around lunch time, Anton meeting up with Ben to hand in any files he had gathered from the workers in the hollows as well as any inquires for the next move on construction and demolition. But when he spots a little kid munching on a sandwich, a lot of questions run through his mind. Whose kid is this? The President's? But isn’t she a little too young to have kids? Of course he needed to find out, waltzing up to see what his bro is up to now.

⋈ The moment he steps up and makes eye contact with the little one, he doesn’t know it but he’s scowling. Anton has a habit of looking scary when he is thinking or even when he’s trying to figure something out, so to the kid they look like a scary man. Eyes start watering before Anton can get a word out, leaving him to panic and wave his hands about. 

“Whoa whoa whoa! Hey there kid, didn’t mean to scare you! Look! I’m friendly, see!” He crouched down, smiling nervously while trying to cheer them up, Ben watching in amusement while eating his own lunch. Anton tries his best, pulling at his cheeks, messing his hair up or even trying to crack a joke. Soon, the kid could only stare in confusion at this stranger, wondering why he was being so… weird. 

“Anton, stop, you’re weirding them out.” He pouts, seeing that Ben was right. But at least they aren’t crying, fixing his original problem, “Sorry about that kid, names Anton! Who are you, little bro?” Blinking, they only look at him before trying to hide behind their sandwich, munching slowly as they choose to ignore him. Anton’s ego has been hit. 

⋈ He’s not bad with kids, though he’s not good with them either. He’s always cautious with them since he’s seen some odd children in New Eridu. But after getting to know them from what little they spoke and what Ben and Grace had told him, he seems to have gotten to a point of understanding with them. That being said, he’s making sure they are in the best care there while they still are waiting to receive news from their parents. During lunch, he’s offering them his best snacks, proud of himself that he’s slowly gaining their trust. Or even offering to show them around while Ben is on his break to give the bear a rest. 

⋈ Whilst showing them around, he plays little games with them, chasing around the Bangboos they point out, running circles around the many tables and chairs in the break areas, even giving them wild piggyback rides that leave them laughing and squealing. If not piggyback rides, he’s tossing them up in the air and catching them playfully, the excitement on their face making him even more happier. They started calling him, ‘Big brother Anton’- boosting his ego a little as he started addressing himself as such to other workers he comes across, many looking on in confusion as he trails after the little tyke to keep an eye on them like a big brother would. 

⋈ That being said, he knows when to reel in the playtime when he needs to be serious or careful for their safety. He always has an eye on them, steering them away from the dangerous machinery and preventing them from running into other workers carrying heavy parts and pieces. Of course, he does scold them but he does it out of care that they could end up getting hurt if he doesn’t keep a close eye on them. And they seem to know this too, always apologizing before sadly looking down to their dirtied sneakers, scuffing them on the hard concrete. 

“Hey, look at me kid. You’re not in trouble, ok. I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. Do you like having a boo-boo?” He gently holds them at an arm's length, leaning towards them as he speaks softly, thumb rubbing their forearms. They slowly shake their heads no, on the verge of tears after almost running into another worker carrying a large panel of glass, tripping in front of them. Had Anton not been quick, the worker would have stepped on them or worse, tripped and dropped the glass on them leaving them open to being cut up by the shards.

“I don’t wanna see you hurt, so know when I yell at you or scold you, it’s because big brother Anton is looking out for you and wants to keep you safe, ok!” He smiles gently at them, pinching their cheek as they blink the tears away and nod in understanding. It takes them a little but soon they ask him an important question, “Will big brother always protect me?”

“Sure thing, kid. As long as I’m around, you’ll be safe!”

While the trio address their findings and wonder what they should do now with the kid since they all need to get back to work, their president has finally returned from one of her meetings to hear that there is a kid on site. Finding her trusted employees and her closest family, Koleda is surprised to see that the rumors were true, freaking out once the kid spots her. Grace only greets her with a smile, waving as she approaches.

“Hi sweet pea! Come meet pumpkin!” Koleda flinches once the child approaches her, staring up at her before taking a hold of her pants and tugging them gently. “Eh, let go of me. Grace! Why is there a kid here? Children should not be on the construction site, you know what will happen if the press hears about this!?”

“Calm down Koleda, Pubsec is working hard already to try and find their parents. In the meantime, we’re taking care of them. Besides, a lot of the crew love them, what a cute bundle of joy!” Koleda sighs before looking down at the kid beside her, the kids stare never letting down before they point at their face. “You're like my age.” Oh boy, was Koleda about to have a field day with this one. 

⋈ Usually Koleda is treated like the kid in the situation, after all she is pretty young to be running a business but she’s proven herself to be rather mature and grown for the task at hand. That being said, she doesn’t get along with children. So this new kid is nothing more than an obstacle in her routine. She is constantly being followed by them, annoyed at how many questions they ask or how they touch things that they shouldn’t touch. The amount of times she had picked a fight with this kid is insane, but of course they don't escalate into huge fights, really just calling names and pointing. The one time the kid kicks her after she called them 'small brain', Koleda pulled out the timeout card and grounded them to her office, calling for Grace who only laughed at them both.

⋈ The only thing she can think of doing is giving them something to distract them. Still has some old toys from when she was a kid in her office, little blue trucks and yellow cranes. But once giving them over to the kid, she starts nitpicking them about how they should be playing with them, explaining their roles as they aren’t race cars which is what the kid had assumed from the second they got them. So now Koleda is stuck playing with them while trying to find an excuse to leave, which seems to be non existence. 

⋈ She hates to admit it, but she likes bossing them around sometimes. It’s not everyday you get to boss around someone younger then you, making them get things for her here and there like files or tools. But still, it’s the moments when they call her ‘Cool Big Sis’ that she can’t help but find this kid alright. Usually, Grace is her big sis; So seeing that someone finds her as a good sister figure, she’s gotta show off a little and show them whose the boss around these parts. That’s right, Cool big sis is!

⋈ After a long day of venturing and eating and meeting so many people, the little kid finally settles down a little. Of course, it starts hitting them that the day is starting to end and workers are leaving to go home, they grow lonely and sad, sitting on Koleda’s couch in her office. Blinking away sleepy tears before curling up on the cushions, taking a nap before Koleda comes back. Finding the child sleeping peacefully, she drapes a blanket she had laying around on them, realizing that it’s an old one from when her dad was around, leaving it in his office for when she would fall asleep as a kid. Patting their head, she resumes her work beside them, remembering how her dad would do the same for her when she was their age. She can’t help but think of them as a mini me, smiling sadly before a knock at her door catches her attention. 

“Sweet pea? It’s grace, PubSec is back! They believe they found the mother of little pumpkin here!” Grace walked in once Koleda lets her in, aweing at the sight of the little one cuddling up to Koleda’s lap who looked flustered to having been caught snuggling up to the kid after deeming them an annoyance. “W-What? Oh, ok then. I’ll get the out then- Don’t mention this to the others-”

“No promises Sweet Pea~”

“G-Grace!” But she was long gone, the door closed leaving her to pick the kid up, adjusting them on her hip so they could rest their head on her shoulder. Koleda strokes their head before leaving, muttering out a sad,

“Let’s get you home now, cub.”

Arriving at the gates of the main construction offices and sites, a PubSec officer stood along a rather distressed looking women, Ben and Anton with the lady comforting her until they caught sight of the three wandering over. The sight of the kid brought tears to her eyes, crying out their name before running up to Koleda. “Oh my, Thank you so much! I’m so sorry if they've been a bother, I was so worried when they didn’t come home.” Koleda handed the kid over, still sleeping but once in their mother’s arms, almost recognizing who it was curled in closer with a larger smile on their face, sighing in relief as they continued to doze off. 

“Eh, it was nothing. They are a great kid, though a troublemaker if they can wander off unnoticed. We did our best to make sure they didn’t get hurt, let alone the fact that they ended up in a hollow of all places.” Shaking her head, Grace apologizes for the inconvenience but the mother couldn’t be happier to have their child back and safe. Before leaving, she thanked Koleda one more time, ironically patting her head with a gentle smile, “You’re parents must be so proud to have raised such an amazing girl. Thank you again for watching over them. Goodbye now.”

They only watched as she left, child in hand who only woke up long enough to stare at them at a distance, PubSec officer joining them for a safe trip back home as it was already pretty late.

“Buh-bye big sister. I’ll miss you.” They smiled tired, Koleda only waving back, a small frown on her face as they turned the corner and left. 

“Bye kid, see you around.”

“Maybe we’ll see them again sometime. They are a sweet kid, huh sweet pea.”

“Yeah, maybe… But that’s wishful thinking. How about we all get heading home and relax after today.” Everyone nodded, together heading back on site to finish up what needed to be done. But they'll never forget them, that's for sure. Neither will the concrete after they had ran across it several time. Yeah, really troublesome that kid was.

[07/13/2024]

Zenless Zone Zero Belongs to Hoyoverse*

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 8

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note:Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You leave the motel under a cloud of reluctance and relief. You have little to your name but your wallet, phone, and a few snacks. Hesitation keeps you stagnant behind the wheel, hovering over the address saved on your maps. This is it, hit start and accept your fate.

You put your phone on the passenger's seat as the automated voice directs you. You shift into gear and pull out. Disbelief fades to indifference. You don't have the energy to feel. 

You follow along, in autopilot, until the GPS announces your destination on the right. You slow down and look up at the large house. Of course. He's rich. Dirty rich.

You pull down the long lot and stop to the right side of the double garage door. You don't get out immediately, you lean back and close your eyes. You try to sort through your thoughts. It's not that big of a deal. Sleep here, go to work, find anywhere else to be during the day.

There's a rumble on the seat beside you and you snatch up your phone. You drag your thumb across the screen to answer, too late to change your mind. It's him. Of course it's him.

"Don't say a word, sweetheart," Lloyd looks down his nose at the lens, "I just need you to see this."

He switches cameras and you squint as he points it at a familiar wooden door. No. The brass numbers confirm his location; your home. Former home.

His hand knocks on the door as he shifts the phone in his hand.

"Lloyd! Stop. No, don't–"

"Fair warning, sunshine, I got you on mute, so if you're tryna change my mind, it won't work." He knocks again, pounding on the door.

As the door opens, Lloyd's fist flies from the edge and snaps Johnny's jaw. You watch the other man stagger and grip his cheek, only for a moment, before swinging back at his attacker. The picture skews as Lloyd dodges and his foot hits Johnny’s chest and sends him onto his ass.

"Think that's about even," Lloyd clucks as he enters your apartment and steps over Johnny.

He leads with the lens, giving you a glimpse of the front room as he inspects it. He finds his way into the bedroom and hums. He goes to the dresser, opening a drawer then shutting it as all he finds are Johnny's briefs. He slides out the next one and picks out a few neatly folded panties.

"You keep a nice place, sweetie pie," he remarks. "Boring…" he comments as he examines a pair of your cotton panties.

You want to cry. You want to just wilt away to nothing. Why is he doing this?

The camera blurs in a smear of colours suddenly and Lloyd grunts. You hear Johnny and a struggle. Banging, clattering, and clamoring. You hear them locked in contention, helpless as you're stuck staring at a wall.

Another growl and an unsettling thump. The phone lifts and Lloyd snorts as you get a glimpse of him, his nose slightly bloody. He puts the phone down and you hear the drawer snap shut.

"See ya soon, baby cakes," he says, slightly breathless, "make yourself cozy… don't miss me too much."

He taps the screen and the call ends. You gape at your phone and whimper as you slump forward. Shit. You're totally fucked and you have a feeling Lloyd knows exactly that.

You lock your phone and sigh. Well, no going back now.

You get out of the car and look around. It's a nice neigbourhood, a bit far from work but not terrible. God, you're really going to do this.

'High five, fuck, go on our way.'

His words reverberate. Does he really want that? From you? Surely you could just pay rent.

You head up the walk and pull up the passcode. You punch it into the keypad on the door and it beeps, a green light granting you access.

Inside, the entry is airy and bright. You pause to take it all in. You check your phone again. Maybe you should go to the apartment and make sure they're not killing each other. Or maybe you should let them. You might avoid a lot of trouble if you just stop trying so hard.

There's a table against the curved rail of the staircase. You near as you give a curious look to the basket on top. White with a bright pink ribbon snaked around the handle. Inside, you find various boxes, taking the first to cringe at the small bullet vibe through the plastic window of the packaging. 

The rest of the contents are similar; bottles of lube, stimulating salve, toys, clamps, and even a few panties without much fabric. Jesus. You leave the array of erotic aids but take the small envelope from in front of it. He knew. He knows you have no other option and he's entirely prepared.

Inside the card, ignoring the exterior image of a dildo and butt plug beneath a pun, you find script typed in Arial. 'Welcome to the sex shack. Make yourself at home. Yours is the room with the tie on the handle. Leave it on for when I get there.'

Gross. Not just him, you. There can be no doubt that his intent is just as shallow and sick as he is as a person. But you, you're not going to walk out and sleep in your car. Just like with Johnny, you will roll over and take it.

[wingdingery]

ohhhh i always have requests! quite fond of lil drabble ideas: bruce teaching dick to dance and (years later when they’re together) they recreating some of their first dances, slade being the one to gift dick his first leather jacket that he still regularly wears, An Event Occurs and in the aftermath dick realizes how irreplaceable he is to bruce and just how much bruce both loves him and needs him, bruce and dick’s undercover aliases that keep getting more and more romantic over the years

In Dick’s experience, returning to his apartment after a week away and finding a mysterious box on the coffee table that was definitely not there when he left is, usually, not actually a big deal.

He’s still careful—the little Batman that lives in the back of his head would never give him a moment of peace if he wasn’t—but he’s just very aware of the fact that, nine times out of ten, the not-so-little Batman is the one breaking in and leaving little treats for him to find later, because Bruce is deathly allergic to seeing people’s reactions to his gifts in real-time.

Dick runs through the standard checks, but nothing sounds or smells off, and nothing pings as suspicious on infrared or the particulate detector. He steps closer to inspect the box. It’s rectangular, all white, and generally unremarkable except for the fact that he didn’t put it there.

Carefully, he lifts the lid. He’s expecting some kind of gear—it wouldn’t be the first time a new suit or toys showed up unannounced.

What he finds is a leather moto jacket.

He gently lifts it out of the box and stares at it, bemused. It’s very nice—genuine Italian leather by the feel of it, black with silver hardware and diagonal pockets in the shape of a V, and just his size. There’s no note of any kind, but when he sniffs the leather, he also gets a whiff of maple and gun oil—and that feels like a signature in and of itself.

Dick pulls out his phone, dials in the number from memory, and sinks into the couch as it rings. 

“Happy birthday,” Slade says when he picks up, voice low and rumbling.

Dick suppresses a smile. “You’re late.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the zipper of the jacket. They’ve been getting along all right ever since they’d been forced to team up on the cruise ship from hell, but still, a little plausible deniability goes a long way, between them. “How long ‘til I find out on my own?”

“Now that depends,” Slade says, drawing out the words. “You still talking to Rose?”

Dick blinks. “You were visiting Rose?”

“Something like that.”

“She shut the door in your face,” Dick guesses.

Slade grunts. “We can meet not at her apartment.”

“And she’s moving?”

“And she’s moving.” Slade doesn’t sound particularly annoyed about it, but then again, finding people who don’t want to be found is basically his job. Dick makes a mental note to see if Rose wants a hand making her dad’s life harder.

“So why the jacket?” Dick says, running his hand over the leather. It really is nice. He wonders where Slade got it, and whether it was paid for in money or blood. He probably doesn’t want to know.

“You complained I made you ruin yours,” Slade says. “Reckon we’re square now.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, even though Slade can’t see it. “I don’t remember doing that, but if I did, it had to have been, what… seven years ago? At least?”

“I’ve got a long memory.” It sounds vaguely like a threat, in Slade’s voice, but the jacket itself seems far from one, so Dick lets it pass.

“If you’re trying to make up for that,” Dick says, “then you’re really late.”

“You’d’ve thrown it straight in the trash if I ever tried before.”

“I could still do that.”

“You won’t.”

“Well, now I have to.”

Slade scoffs. “Go ahead. Would be a waste of perfectly good leather, though.”

The desire for knowledge wins out. “Where’d you get it?”

“Made it.”

Dick pauses, uncertain he’d heard correctly. When Slade doesn’t elaborate, though, Dick echoes, uncertainly, “Made it?”

“Wintergreen helped some.”

Dick opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Made it?

“Who exactly did you think made my first few costumes?” Slade says, sounding amused. “Not all of us have your daddy’s resources.”

It’s one thing for Slade to have bought him something; Dick can explain that away as just a whim—an act of opportunity, as it were. But Slade spending the time and energy to make it himself?

That’s premeditation.

“This isn’t a birthday gift.”

“I said happy birthday, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t just a birthday gift,” Dick presses.

Slade doesn’t respond, and Dick lets the silence stretch far past the point of discomfort. Still, neither of them hangs up. Slade may be a stubborn asshole, but Dick has been trained in the art of silence-offs by the most frustratingly stoic of them all.

Dick smooths out the collar of the jacket and straightens out the arms while he waits. Now that he’s looking closer, he can tell the seams aren’t the tidy stitches of a lifelong craftsman, but it’s impressive work, all the same. Work that must have taken a hell of a lot of effort. 

Finally, Slade breaks the rhythm of quiet breathing. “Whatever it is,” he says, “it’s yours now. Throw it in the trash if you want. Or don’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

It has everything to do with Slade, but the fact that Slade is insisting so hard that it doesn’t is both a little funny and extremely sad. Dick can recognize a fear of rejection when he hears it. 

Dick puts a hand on top of the jacket. “It doesn’t really make sense to give me this,” he says, “if you’re never going to see me wear it.”

Slade is silent for a moment, but not as long as before. “I’ve got time,” he says, slowly, like he’s leaving space for Dick to cut him off between one word and the next. “Two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks,” Dick agrees. “I assume you don’t need the address.”

“Think I’ve got it.” Slade’s voice is dry, but lacking its usual knife-sharp edge. “See you soon, kid.��

He hangs up before Dick can respond. 

Dick smiles anyway. “See you soon.”

----

Footnote: RIP Dick's expensive jacket (this is $300 in 80s money)