#Phoenix Body Massage

[professorsnape394]

DAY 12: Loving in Secret

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 😡

Prompt: Victory

Summary: Y/N is determined to get Severus to admit to his feelings for her.

A/N: Obsessed with Jealous Snape!! I think I may have to write more like this, let me know if that's something you might be interested in.

Warnings:  Jealousy. Duels. Injury.

Word Count: 3194

Credits to Gif Creator.

Meeting with the Order of the Phoenix had always a tiresome day for Severus. While he dreaded spending the day in the home of his childhood bully and long-time enemy, Sirius Black, he was grateful for the time he was able to spend with the one woman who brought a smile to his face.

Y/N had been seeing Severus for a few months now, though they had never actually made anything official. They agreed to a casual relationship at first, but they both knew there was more to it than that. Her feelings for the wizard only grew with each passing day, but still Severus refused to admit he felt anything other than lust for the young woman.

Still, she revelled in the nights they spent together, however fleeting they seemed. It was hard for them to gain any alone time together given her less than ideal living situation with his childhood enemy coupled with the fact he refused to invite her into his home. Still, they managed to steal a few moments together here and there.

Today’s meeting was particularly agonising for Severus, nothing of note being said that he didn’t already know. Mad Eye’s voice faded into a singular drone, as Severus leaned back lazily in his chair. His thoughts on nothing but the woman across from him. It had been too long since he had felt her hands on his body; the softness of her skin intertwining with his rough calloused hands, he missed the sweetness of her mouth on his, the sound of her gasps when his hand found its way between her legs, but he especially missed the drooling mess she became when he fucked her hard and rough, his hand covering her mouth to ensure they wouldn’t make a sound.

Y/N tried hard not to look in Severus’ direction to avoid suspicion, regardless she could still feel the way his gaze raked over her body, his mind wandering to places they should not go at a time like this. A red-hot flush crept its way up her neck, the thought of Severus checking her out so publicly sent a rush straight to her core. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, attempting to dissuade Severus’ glances. He did not take the hint.

Idly pacing around the room like a hyperactive dog, Severus couldn’t help but feel irritated by the mere presence of Sirius Black in his own home, though when the man turned his attention on Y/N his blood began to boil.

Sliding up behind her, Black placed a hot mug of tea in front of Y/N; in innocent gesture from any other, but Snape knew Black always had a motive. The young witch flashed his rival a sweet smile, thanking him for her beverage. Confirming his suspicions, Sirius lingered behind Y/N resting a heavy hand on each of her shoulders, gently massaging. Severus had to hold back his primal instincts, forcing himself not to curse the man for even thinking he can touch what is his. Sirius didn’t move his hands for the remainder of the meeting, neither did Severus’ gaze on them.

The meeting continued for a further forty-five minutes before its members were finally free. However, Molly Weasley had insisted she make everyone a meal before they left, so the house was particularly more crowded than normal.

Y/N shot Severus a look, telling him to meet her upstairs while everyone else seemed preoccupied with chatter. The Potion’s Master wasted no time hesitating, moving the second she gave the order, stealthily disappearing up to her bedroom.

Y/N was not so lucky in her escape. Sirius watched on closely as she swiftly exited the room.

“Oh, thank God.” Y/n gasped at the sight of Snape standing in the middle of her bedroom. Closing the door she hurried towards him, throwing her hands over his head and pulling her body close to his. Instinctively Severus hands fell to her hips, though quickly began to roam when her lips met his.

Balancing on her tiptoes to match his height, she moaned into his mouth.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“It’s been too long.” His words were muffled by her neck as he kissed his way down to her collar bone, nipping the skin with his teeth once or twice.

She let out a single sharp gasp; the kind he loved so much and he found himself dreaming of regularly.

“How much time do we have?” Severus rasped, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had gone awry.

“Not long. Molly said dinner will be out shortly.”

“We’ll have to be quick then.”

Y/N groaned at the prospect. They were forever having to rush their time together, just once she wanted to be able to savour her time with him, maybe then he would actually stick around after sex and she might have the chance to discuss their feelings for each other. As it were, the couple were resigned to hot and heavy meet ups in secret, providing Severus with the perfect excuse to keep her at arm’s length.

“Don’t you think we should just tell people? I’m tired of sneaking around behind everyone’s back.”

Severus nuzzled into the crook of her neck, sucking softly on her skin.

“We’re not telling anyone, because there is nothing to tell. No one needs to know that we’re sleeping together, Y/N.”

She pulled away from him to look him in the eye.

“But what if it becomes more?”

“It won’t.” He stated firmly.

“But –“

“We’ve spoke about this Y/N.”

Her heart dropped despite expecting nothing less; Severus had always made his intentions with her very clear; it was foolish of Y/N to hope otherwise.

Snape made to unbuckle his belt, just as there came a knock at the door.

The pair exchanged a panicked glance.

“Y/N.” Sirius called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, thanks. I just came up to look for my wand.” She attempted to dissuade him.

“Do you need any help looking?” The door handle twitched under his grip.

“No, thanks! I’ll be down in a minute.”

The door, thankfully, remained closed. Sirius footsteps faded as he made his way back down the stairs.

Severus was on her in an instant, his hands raking through her tangled mess of hair, capturing her mouth in an aggressive kiss.

Y/N moaned once more, savouring the way his tongue dominated her mouth.

“I have to go.” She sighed, reluctantly. Sirius would be expecting her back down any second, if she didn’t show, he was sure to come up again.

It was Severus’ turn to groan; the tightness of his trousers had become almost too much to bear. It had been so long since their last session, and now who knows when they would next get a moment together.

“I’m sorry. Stay for dinner, I might be able to escape after that.”

Reluctantly, Severus agreed to her offer. Promising to follow shortly behind once she left.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen was swarmed with people. Countless Weasley’s and numerous other Order members took up the majority of seats around the table. Y/N and Sirius opted to stand on the outskirts of the table, knowing there would be plenty of left overs for them to have once everyone left. Which allowed Severus to slip into the remaining seat practically unnoticed.

Severus sat straight in his chair, arms crossed, eyes laser focused on the couple huddled on the other side of the room. Y/N and Sirius leaned against the kitchen cabinets, giggling together like a couple of school children. Snape watched as Sirius leaned into his friend, brushing aside the loose strand of hair, and whispering something in her ear. Y/N threw her head back and cackled to the sky. It occurred to Snape you had never laughed so hard at anything he had said before, sending a burning feeling of jealousy to his gut. He watched on as Y/N placed her had on the centre of Sirius chest, an attempt to steady herself from her bout of hysteria. Severus jaw clenched.

Finally able to calm herself down, Y/N stalked the length of the table, checking out the food on offer. Severus eyes followed the woman intensely until she came to a stop directly behind him.

“Something bothering you?” She whispered in his ear, noticing the tension coursing through his body.

Severus remained silent, already wary that by standing next to each other they were exposing themselves. She could tell her relationship with Sirius pissed Severus off, but he would never admit it. If he did, he would have to tell her why it bothered him so much. And she knew he was not ready to admit to anything yet. Y/N stole a forkful of carrots from his plate and continued her round of the table.

Sirius joined the woman in her hunt for scraps, the two of them lurking around like a couple of vultures. While, Y/N was simply focused on stuffing as much food into her mouth as possible, Sirius’ attention remained solely on her. When she bent to stick her fork into a bowl of roast potatoes, Sirius rested a hand on the small of her back, keeping it there to draw her closer to him. Severus watched on furiously, his nostrils flaring at the sight. Y/N bit into a large roast potato and moaned appreciatively. Severus mind wandered to an inappropriate place and it was clear Sirius’ did the same.

“My God, Molly, those potatoes are amazing. What did you put in them?”

Severus went deaf to the world as Y/N held her forkful of potato out for Sirius to take a bite from. He took hold of her wrist, bringing her hand up to his mouth, and made intense eye contact while he slipped the potato from its tines.

Severus’ hands balled into fists and his teeth ground together. It was everything he could do to stop himself from lashing out at the man he already despised.

 Either this woman was deliberately trying to drive him mad or she truly saw nothing wrong with her actions; either option was maddening to him.

Severus almost hit his breaking point was when Sirius used his thumb to swipe a drop of gravy from the corner of Y/N’s mouth, bringing it back to her lips to lick.

All idle chatter stopped at the sound of Snape’s chair screeching across the hardwood floors. At risk of exposing their casual relationship, Severus stormed out of the kitchen.

Y/N wasn’t shocked by his reaction. In fact, she was so close to breaking him it almost made her giddy. There was no hiding his feelings for her when this was how he reacted.

After dinner, Y/N helped Molly clear up while everyone else retired to the Livingroom. No one dared speak a word to the brooding Potion’s Master who sat stewing in a single armchair by the fire. To be honest everyone was shocked he was still here, but no one was brave enough to question it; Except Sirius.

“Still here, Snivellus? Thought you’d have slithered off back to that hovel of yours.”

“At least I’m able to slither anywhere, Black. You set one foot outside, and it’s straight back to Azkaban. Tell me, who’s a better roommate? Y/N or the dementors.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m that bad, Severus.” Y/N scoffed at his comparison, shooting him a stern glare as she returned from the kitchen.

“I wasn’t meaning like that.” He sighed to himself.

“Don’t worry about it. Sirius and I have a good thing going here, let’s hope he won’t be returning to Azkaban any time soon, shall we?”

Severus said nothing. He hated the fact you lived with his worst enemy, but he what he hated even more was you defending Sirius over him. The sly grin on the other man’s face showed he had won this round.

Y/N perched on the arm of the chair next to Sirius, finding every other chair occupied.

“Here. Take my seat.” Severus jumped up from his spot on the armchair.

“No need, Snivellus.” Sirius stopped Y/N in her tracks. “There’s plenty of room for her right here.” He budged up a few inches, patting the space next to him. His gaze remained fixed on Snapes, a challenge that said whoever’s offer you took would be the victor.  

Eyes flicking between the two men Y/N had a choice to make. While she didn’t like to see Severus defeated by childhood bully, the obvious answer was to sit with Sirius. Not only would everyone get a seat, but doing so would further rile Snape up, maybe then he would be ready to admit to his feelings for her.

“Sit back down, Severus. I’ll be fine here.” She slipped into the edge of the couch; her thighs pushed right up against her friend’s.

Sirius’ grin grew wider at the second small victory. He placed his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

Severus’ jaw clenched once more. The sight of Sirius resting his arm on her so confidently had him seeing red.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Black, that the woman might not want your grubby paws all over her.” He spat.

“That woman has a name, and a voice too come to think of it. I’m sure if Y/N felt in any way uncomfortable around me she would say as much.”

“Perhaps she is just being polite.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Are you jealous, Snape?” Sirius laughed, realisation hitting him. “Are you jealous that a girl like Y/N is not repulsed by the thought of me touching her, as she would you.” Sirius placed an arm on Y/N’s knee to drive home his point.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Snape scoffed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Severus fought back the urge to lash out at him, standing slowly from his chair once again.

“It seems I have overstayed my welcome.” His tone was eerily calm.  

Sirius smirked, basking in his victory.

“You always have been all bark, Severus. Next time you’re here remember your place in this house; you are not wanted.”

“The next time I’m here, Black.” Severus sneered. “I’ll be laughing at your pathetic attempts to win Y/N over, Then I’ll take her upstairs and fuck her until the only thing she knows how to say is my name. MY name Black, not yours.”

The room fell silent at the Professor’s words, everyone’s attention focusing in on him and Sirius.

Molly threw a hand over her mouth in shock, quickly trying to usher her children from the room.  

Sirius stood from his seat, pointing his wand in the direction of the Potion’s Master.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said; I’m going to fuck her in your house, while she’s screaming my name and begging for more because she loves the feel of my cock so much.”

A .. flash of light shot from the end of Sirius’ wand, an electric pulse buzzing through the air. Snape deflected it with ease.

The room quickly emptied, leaving only Severus, Sirius and Y/N remaining.

Sirius waited for Snape to take it shot, but it never came. This only angered Sirius more, causing him to send another handful of spells flying his way. Severus deflected each one with a simple movement of his hand.

“You think I’m lying?” Severus taunted. “Ask her yourself.”

Sirius gaze flicked over to Y/N for no more than a second before he continued raging spells in Snape’s direction.

Y/N finally shook herself from her frozen state.

“Sirius stop!” She yelled, watching him send endless curses Snape’s way.

Her friend took no notice of her, continuing to his battle with her lover.

Bored of remaining on defence, Severus finally threw a spell at Sirius. The marauder managed to deflect but stumbled back from the sheer force of the curse.

In an instant there were spells flying back and forth between the men while Y/N watched on helplessly from the side lines.

Seeing Sirius weaken against Severus’ power, had Y/N panicking that someone was truly about to be hurt. Knowing the two shared a sordid history, it was unlikely that either wizard would accept defeat before the other was forced to submit.

“Severus, please stop this.” She ran at him, pulling roughly on his robes to get his attention. “Stop!”

Distracted that Y/N might get caught in the crossfires of the duel, Severus attempted to push her behind him and out of the line of fire. But to no avail, the witch fought against his arm, refusing to surrender to his protection.

Y/N rounded on Severus, pushing roughly at his chest in a last-ditch effort to end the fight.

Despite being unable to hold off Snape’s spells for much longer, Sirius refused to give up without a fight; his spells coming in faster with each passing second.

Losing focus on the battle, Severus’ attention was taken over by trying to keep Y/N safe. Abandoning his wand, he gripped the woman by her wrists and dragged her to the side. Foolishly Snape did not consider that Black would not have the same concern for her safety and another spell headed in their direction. Snape pulled Y/N tight to his chest, covering her with as much of his body as he possible.

Severus winced as pain lashed across his arm. His now cut up sleeve becoming wet with blood.

“Severus.” Y/N yelped, grabbing onto his hand. “Are you hurt, let me see it.”

She took Snape’s arm in his examining the severity of his wounds. They were deep and showed no signs of clotting.

Sirius watched on from the other side of the room, panting breathlessly with exertion. Y/N spun on him, furiously.

“What the hell did you do?”

Sirius remained speechless.

“You shouldn’t have gotten in the way.” Snape snapped, regaining her attention.

“I was trying to stop you from hurting each other.”

“That worked out well, didn’t it?” He glared down at her.

“Stop it, Severus.” She warned, knowing he was trying to deflect from the fact he was hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He admitted, stroking her cheek with his good hand.

“He was telling the truth?” Sirius finally huffed, watching the scene unfold between the two.

“Sirius, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you but-“

“Are you together?”

Severus and Y/N exchanged a hesitant glance.

“No.”

“Yes.” Y/N turned to Severus in shock.

“But Severus you said-“

“Forget what I said. I’ve spent all night watching what it looks like to have another man flirting with you because he thinks you’re single. I refuse to spend another moment watching that. You’re mine, Y/N, in every way that counts. And I want everyone to know it.”

“Do you mean it?” She looked up at him hopefully.

Severus nodded firmly, tucking that one rouge piece of hair behind her ear before bringing his mouth to hers.

“Then let’s go tell everyone. And maybe heal your arm while we’re at it?”

“Whatever you want.” He smiled.

Sirius may have gotten the upper hand in the duel, but ultimately it was Severus who was victorious in this battle.

[cripplecharacters]

How should you write/draw burn survivors? I know this isn't a drawing blog but I don't know of one that I could ask this question to.

Hello!

I'm not a burn survivor myself, so I'll mostly talk about facial differences/visible disability in general and link some stuff made by burn survivors.

First thing, I think it's important to remember that being a burn survivor changes a lot of things - not only appearance. Very important part is the psychological one, but I'm not a burn survivor so I will just let the resources linked below speak.

From the physical aspect, burns can also come with: chronic pain, limited range of motion due to scarring, tightened skin, problems with regulating temperature, itching, skin irritation, and even different nutritional needs during the initial healing process.

There is also specific everyday care associated with burns - something you basically never see in fiction. That could be things like occupational therapy, physical therapy, skincare (like heavy moisturizing and scar massaging), wearing sunblock, wearing splints, or stretching to prevent contractures or tightness.

There are also different types of burns and they (unsurprisingly) differ from each other - for example, electrical burns have a much higher rate of amputation than any other type. Chemical burns can cause eye issues. A burn caused by a fire in a closed space might result in a brain injury due to the lack of oxygen. A much larger portion of people than you (probably) assume have survived burn injuries as small children, and if they were young enough they might not even remember the event at all, unlike older people who might be very affected by the trauma.

Experiences of a person with 80% body surface burns, a person with quadruple amputations from an electrical burn, a person with a facial burn, and a person burnt very recently will be different from someone who has a 5% body surface 2nd degree burn in a spot that’s usually hidden, who has lived with their burn for a decade - despite them all being burn survivors.

When it comes to more thorough research, I recommend going through Phoenix Society’s and Face Equality International’s websites to learn more about both real burn survivor’s perspectives, and face equality as a social justice topic. I think the 3rd link (see below) puts it very well when talking about burn survivors being represented in fiction:

“Most likely, these characters were not created by someone with lived experience. The result is an increasingly garbled game of telephone [...] To avoid contributing to this false narrative, embrace research as part of the process. Explore interviews, first-person accounts, and articles from reliable sources.”

I personally think that the links below should be mandatory reading for writing not only burn survivors, not only people with facial differences, but visibly disabled people in general - because the treatment we get is often so similar the advice still holds up just fine. And if you don't plan on writing any of these, you should still read them to see how prevalent of a problem ableism in media is.

Lise Deguire's Hey Hollywood - scars don't make you evil.

Face Equality International's International Media Standard on Disfigurement.

Niki Averton's Tips for Writing about Burn Survivors.

The main sentiment that you will read from basically any first-hand source is that if you're writing the burn survivor to be either:

evil (just throw the whole character away)

a guy with the "World's Saddest Most Tragic Backstory Ever and It's So Sad and Tragic" (because he revealed he has a scar)

a helpless victim who is there to be The Helpless Victim

...then you're already doing it wrong and need to make some major changes.

From our blog's reblogs and posts, you might want to look at tips for writing a visibly different/disabled character and tips on drawing people with facial differences. Neither are specific to burn survivors but cover the topic of visible disability and facial differences.

Now for tips on drawing burn survivors (that weren't included in the last link);

Reference real people. 99.9% drawings of burn survivors seem to go through the same "increasingly garbled game of telephone" that Niki Averton mentions with how burn survivors are written, in that the newer the drawing, the less in common it has with how real people with burns look like because people reference from each other and none of them ever think to actually check if their depiction is accurate. If you just google "burn survivor" you will very quickly notice that burn survivors don't have that damn red overlay layer put on top of their skin. It just doesn't look like that, and basic research (aka Google Images search) will tell you that - and still, people color a hand with bright red and think that's how it looks like (it doesn't).

In the same vein, maybe don't just draw an able-bodied person and then put some scarring on top (or maybe do exactly that. No burn scar and no burn survivor is the same, and there are people that fit what I just described... but hear me out for a second). Think about how scars interact with their features - do they have both of their ears? Do they still have all of their hair? Do they only have parts of their eyebrow? Do they have all of their fingers? Can they move the same as before their burn, or are their scars limiting their joints? How did their body react to the post-burn hypermetabolism? Lots to think about. Take into account what type and thickness of burns your character has.

Ditch the mask trope. Just ditch it. There's no need to cover your character's scar from the world unless you as the author think it requires to be hidden, is too scary to show, or other ableist trope that seems to always come up with drawings of visibly disabled people, especially burn survivors. The one exception I will mention is a transparent face orthosis/mask (TFO) that facial burn survivors might wear while awaiting a skin graft early after their injury. But as the name suggests, it's transparent and doesn't work for the "scary facial difference, better cover it up and only reveal it in some hyper dramatic scene!" trope because you can see right through it. (I will also mention that TFOs are a very modern thing. Your medieval burn survivor wouldn't be wearing one).

No "body horror", no "gore" tags or trigger warnings or whatever. That's a human being. If you feel the need to warn your followers before they see a disabled person existing, you're better off not drawing them.

Some last notes;

Throughout this ask I used the term "burn survivor" rather than "burn victim" because that is, to my knowledge, the general community preferred phrase. Individual opinions will differ (because no group is a monolith) but "burn survivor" is generally the safest term to use and probably the best if talking about a fictional character.

Similarly, I used "facial difference" rather than "disfigurement". Just as the above, opinions will differ on what is the best to use but I personally, as someone with facial asymmetry and a cranial nerve disorder, heavily prefer the term "facial difference" over "disfigurement". (I am in this case The Individual Opinion Differing because you can notice that in the links above, facial difference and disfigurement are used interchangeably. The general community uses both, some people have specific preferences. I'm some people). When talking about a fictional character, "facial difference", "visible difference" and "disfigurement" are all probably fine. Just stay away from calling a person "deformed".

mod Sasza

[awxcoffeexno]

the patient - part 5

toxic!loganhowlett x reader

too sweet

<< part 4 | series masterlist | fic masterlist |

summary: you get exactly what you deserve.

content: angst. logan is... very logan to no one's surprise. bobby stands up for himself.

warnings: all mentions of jean are actually referring to the phoenix who is extremely mentally unstable.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: last part!! (for now anyway, super tempted to write a part with logan and jean, no reader). i apologise preemptively.

the first few days after that night with logan are different. he makes you breakfast, gives you massages after training, and works your body mercilessly through the nights. not one thing you can possibly complain about.

until one day you get to your room to find a note from… jean.

"he's mine. j." it's all the note says and suddenly he's gone again.

he avoids you in the hallways, not even meeting your eye when he walks past you. he goes to bed hungry if he finds you in the kitchen making dinner. he even pretends he's already asleep when you go to his room with a tray and a beer.

so… slowly, you realise what a fucking idiot you've been. obviously logan went crawling back to jean the second she called for him. obviously holy fuck, you are so fucking stupid.

you keep telling yourself it was a mistake, that you need to focus on bobby, the one who’s been nothing but sweet and patient with you. but every time you see logan, every time you catch his scent or see that look in his eyes, your resolve crumbles a little more.

it’s only a matter of time before bobby notices the change in you. he’s been nothing but understanding, giving you space when you needed it, offering comfort when you sought it. but he’s no fool. he can feel the distance growing between you, and it’s eating him alive.

one evening, after a training session, you find bobby waiting for you in the hallway outside the danger room. his usual bright demeanor is gone, replaced by a solemn expression that makes your heart sink.

“we need to talk,” he says, his voice low and steady. there’s no anger, no accusation, just a quiet resignation that makes your chest tighten with dread.

you nod, following him silently as he leads you to the rec room. the room is empty, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows on the walls. bobby turns to face you, his blue eyes searching yours for answers you’re not sure you can give.

“what happened?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. “between you and logan?”

you hesitate, the words catching in your throat. how can you explain something you barely understand yourself? but bobby deserves the truth, as painful as it might be.

“bobby, i…” you start, but the words fail you. you can see the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal, and it feels like a knife twisting in your gut. “it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“but it did,” he says, his tone still calm, but there’s an edge to it now, a quiet desperation that tugs at your heart. “i thought… i thought we had something good.”

“we did,” you insist, stepping closer to him, but he holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“then why?” he demands, his voice cracking. “why did you go back to him?”

tears sting your eyes as you struggle to find the right words. “i don’t know,” you admit, the truth spilling out before you can stop it. “i don’t know why, bobby. it just… happened.”

his expression crumbles, and for the first time since you met him, bobby looks truly heartbroken. “i loved you,” he whispers, the words heavy with emotion. “i still do. but you… you never really let go of him, did you?”

you shake your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “it’s not like that, bobby. i care about you, i really do. but logan… he’s…”

“he’s what?” bobby snaps, the first hint of anger breaking through his calm exterior. your eyes dart down to his fists, watching them ice over. “he’s what, better? more exciting? what?”

“no!” you protest, the thought of comparing them making you feel sick. “it’s not about that. it’s just… it’s complicated.”

“complicated?” bobby repeats, his voice rising. “it’s not complicated, it’s simple! you either want to be with me, or you don’t. and it’s pretty damn clear which one it is.”

you flinch at his words, knowing he’s right. “bobby, please, i never meant to hurt you.”

“well, you did,” he snaps, his voice breaking. “you hurt me more than you know. and the worst part is, i’m still here, still standing in front of you, like an idiot, because i still care about you.”

you reach out to him, but he steps back, shaking his head. “don’t,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “i can’t… i can’t do this anymore.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you feel your heart shatter into a million pieces. “bobby, please…”

but he’s already turning away, his shoulders slumping as he walks toward the door. “i hope he was worth it,” he mutters, and with that, he’s gone, leaving you alone in the empty room, the weight of your choices crashing down on you.

the next few days are a blur of regret and self-loathing. bobby avoids you, and logan continues to keep his distance, leaving you to wallow in the mess you’ve made. you throw yourself into training, hoping the physical exhaustion will drown out the emotional pain, but it doesn’t.

then comes the mission.

it’s a simple recon job—just a quick sweep of an old, abandoned facility in the woods, nothing too dangerous. you’re paired with logan, of course, because the universe – or perhaps more likely, the professor – has a sick sense of humor. the two of you work in silence, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

as the mission winds down, the rain starts, drenching the forest in a cold, relentless downpour. you’re both soaked to the bone by the time you make it back to the clearing, and the mood is even more somber than before.

logan stops walking, and you turn to face him, your breath misting in the cool night air. there’s something in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before—an intense, almost desperate sadness. the wind makes your teeth clatter but he bunches his fists to keep himself from reaching out for you.

“we need to talk,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.

you nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill that has nothing to do with the rain. “yeah. we do.”

logan looks away, his jaw clenched, struggling to find the words. “that night… it shouldn’t have happened.”

your heart sinks, but you don’t say anything. you’ve known this was coming. not just because of your powers, but also because you've forced yourself to repeat it like a mantra every day. yet, it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. not when it's coming from his mouth

“i’ve been trying to make this work,” he continues, his voice low and strained. “but the truth is, i’m not what you need. i’m not what you deserve.”

“logan, don’t do this,” you plead, stepping closer to him, but he holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks. just like bobby had. it would be funny if it wasn't quite so devastating.

“no, i need to say this,” he insists, his voice shaking slightly. “i thought i could be the man you needed, but i can’t. you’re too good, too sweet, and i… i’m not.”

you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you listen to him, the limo in your throat threating to burst into flames. “logan, that’s not true. you’re a good man. you’ve been through so much, and you—”

but he cuts you off, shaking his head. “no. i’m not. i’m… i’m fucked up, and i can’t change that. and you… you deserve someone who’s whole, someone who can give you what you need. someone like bobby.”

the mention of bobby’s name makes your chest tighten with guilt. “bobby doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” you whisper, the reality of your situation sinking in.

logan winces, guilt flashing in his eyes. “i’m sorry,” he mutters, looking away. “i never wanted to come between you two.”

“you didn’t,” you say quickly, reaching for him. “logan, please, don’t push me away. we can figure this out, together.”

but he pulls back, his expression pained. “no, we can’t. because as much as i want to be with you, there’s a part of me that’s always gonna be drawn to the darkness. and i can’t put you through that.”

you shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “but i need you, logan. i love you.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, and you can see the conflict raging behind his eyes. “i love you too,” he admits, his voice raw with emotion. “but it’s not enough. i’m always gonna be fighting this… this part of me that craves something darker, something bitter. and you deserve more than that. you deserve someone who can give you everything, not just the pieces that are left.”

the rain is pouring down harder now, soaking through your clothes, but you barely notice. all you can think about is the man standing in front of you, the man you love, slipping away.

“what am i supposed to do without you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

logan’s face softens, and for a moment, he's your logan again—soft and honey sweet. “you’re gonna be okay,” he says, his voice steady but laced with sadness. “you’re stronger than you think. and one day, you’ll find someone who can give you everything you deserve.”

he reaches out then, pulling you into a tight embrace. you cling to him, your heart breaking all over again as you realise this is the last time you’ll hold him like this.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, his voice thick with regret. “i’m so damn sorry.”

you want to tell him it’s okay, that you understand, but the words stick in your throat. it makes you want to laugh – how pathetic are you? wanting to comfort him about breaking your heart.

instead, you just hold on, wishing you could freeze this moment, wishing you didn’t have to let go.

but eventually, you do. logan steps back, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turns and walks away, disappearing into the woods. you watch him go, your heart shattering into a million pieces as you realize you’re now completely alone.

the rain continues to pour down, soaking through your clothes, but you don’t move. you can’t. all you can do is stand there, in the middle of the dark, silent woods, and feel the weight of your choices crushing you.

and as the night closes in around you, you’re left with nothing but the sound of the rain and the aching void where your heart used to be.

--

achy breaky heart </3

still can't bring myself to hate logie-bear tho. he's so baby.

i really do think i will end up writing a logan and jean part for this in the future just so people stop being mean to my loml in the comments 😔. but until then, this is the last part for this mini-series. thank you so much for the crazy amount of love this series has gotten!! y'all are the best.

on to claw & cravat.

love, d <3

--

<< part 4

taglist: @beeingaflower, @uhnanix, @kokomixxk, @nighwingsdiscordkitten, @iluvloganhowlett, @reidsworld, @aleynaleia, @gboy2008, @thegirlfromthemovies, @swthxrry, @mattymurderdocks, @malfoys-demigod, @angelcvts4u, @chxrrybomb22, @coolio2195, @fictionalmen-dilflover, @twinkleteaparty, @gracierae18, @brucebannerswifey, @evasmlp , @m1cky-y-y, @deaky-with-a-c, @capswife , @abarelyexistentbeing , @seasonofthenerd, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @theoraekenslover , @starbuni, @fandomhopped, @techwrecker , @oakenshieldlover

(i'll continue this taglist for c&c since you guys have been so kind but please let me know if you'd like to opt out!!)

[angelltheninth]

Blazing Hot Desire

Pairing: Phoenix x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, friends to lovers, kissing, banter, masturbating while being watched, body cum shot, planning a date

Word count: 1.6k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Phoenix gets overlooked sometimes and he shouldn't be because he's literally hot.

"Are you still cold?" Phoenix asked while his hands hovered over your shoulders, warming you up slowly. The storm was still raging outside his window. He frowned as he glanced outside, "It's pouring out there. I don't want you to get sick going home in this weather."

"That's sweet of you Jamie, but I'll be fine. Thank you for warming me up, you're a great friend." Calling him a friend was a little awkward. Especially since a few days ago where you both got a little tipsy and ended up making out on his couch.

Neither of you spoke of it. Actually this is the longest you've spent together since that night. And both of you being stripped down to your underwear sure as hell didn't make things any less awkward.

You caught yourself looking over Jamie's muscles, his abs, his big shoulders and hands, his strong thighs more than once. He looked too, oh he looked quite a bit. But every time he did he tried to look away before you noticed.

"Spend the night with me." You turned your head up and looked at him wide eyes and your mouth hanging open, "I mean, because of the rainstorm you know."

Your cheeks were burning up. You needed to get your mind out of the gutter and fast, "Oh, oh yeah. If you're comfortable with it. Thank you."

"Of course. Don't mention it. Stay here, I'll get you something to wear. It's pretty warm in here but I don't want you to catch a cold sleeping only in your underwear. Not that you don't look good in it just... you know." He sheepishly scratched the back of his head, his mouth frowning in a shy, embarrassed way.

The shirt he gave you was a little big on your, not only did the sleeves go past your fingertips, but the hem of it went over your thighs, almost to your knees.

"That's one of my favorites by the way. Do you like it?" You gave him a warm smile and pulled the shirt to your nose, feeling it's softness and warmth. It also smelled a bit like cinnamon and ashes and pine. Very Jamie. He chuckled, "I'll take that as a yes."

"Yes. It's very comfy. Thank you. But what about you? Will you be uhm..." You blushed a little as he sat with his legs folded under him, his knees touching yours. He made a little 'hmm' noise, "Are you also gonna put on something more... loose? That... doesn't look comfortable." You glanced toward his croch then away towards his closet.

"Eh?" You visibly saw him stiffen upright as his eyes slowly descended downwards. His cock as rock hard, staring in the front of his pants, twitching when he looked at it. "I'm so sorry!" He covered the spot with his hands, "You see, you're wearing my shirt but you're also mostly naked? So it's... you're really attractive and pretty and hot, so there's not much I can do. It's a normal... uh... I'm sorry! I'll go take a shower if it's making you uncomfortable."

His voice was trembling as he talked, his shoulders even more so. You realized that he was scared. Slowly you reached toward his hands and moved them aside, but left your own hand hovering inches from his bulge, "Okay?"

"What?" He blinked at you, confused like he wasn't sure what you were asking, "Uh..." He licked his lips, "Y-Yeah. If you... oh!" He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes when you cupped your hand around the head, squeezing and releasing, massaging him through his tight gray boxers.

"Don't be embarrassed. You could never make me uncomfortable Jamie. I actually thought I was the one making you uncomfortable. I was the one who kissed you first that night, and then you pulled me into your lap and..." Your eyes closed at the lovely memory. You felt the hard cock give a needy twitch in your hand, "I should have been honest with you."

"We both should have been." He inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes almost black with lust, "Can I kiss you now? Properly."

"Yes." You respond a little breathless as he leans forward and presses his warm, soft lips over yours, pushing, testing and asking. You answer him by opening your mouth and groaning as his tongue flicks over and around yours.

You inched your fingers down his clothed shaft and into the band of his underwear. His abs flexed at the ghostlike touch, "Hold up doll."

"What?" Both of you pulled away, but still stayed inches from each other, lips barely touching, breathing over each other, lips puffy from the kiss.

"I want to watch you. I want to see how you touch yourself when you think about me. Because I think about you a lot." His confessed words fell over you like a blazing fire, igniting a pool of warmth and pressure between your legs.

You a little bit away from him and hiked up the shirt he have you, revealing your bra clad breasts. "I thought about you a lot too." You watched as his eyes followed your hand as it descended across your breasts, across your stomach and disappear into your panties.

With a small whimper you spread your legs further for easier access, running the pad of your finger over your clit in slow, small, tight circles.

Jamie gulped hard, his eyes fixated on the movement of your hand, the flick of your wrist, the way your breasts heaved with every breath, the sound of your moans and ragged breathing. He couldn't just stand by and watch, mostly because his cock was straining so much it hurt.

Within seconds he pulled his boxers off, hissing as the air hit his sensitive cockhead, his hand closing around the thick length. "Look at what you do to me. Sometimes when we're done with training I need to take a long cold shower just to keep it down, and even then I needed to jack off. Fuck. It hurt to wait to do it." His eyes fluttered closed for just a moment, his mind shifting to you, sweaty from practice, your workout clothes clinging to your body. "I can't hold it anymore."

"Then don't." Your voice is broken by a loud gasp. You slide your fingers through your wet folds once before you take your hand out of your panties, letting Jamie see how wet your fingers are as you took off your panties and spread your folds apart, slowly inserting one finger inside yourself. "I'm certainly not going to."

"Oh fuck." He started stroking in the rhythm of your hand moving, his hand smearing his cum from the tip to his balls, the obscene sounds increasing with each stroke. "I bet you'd feel so warm on my cock."

You chuckle, and insert another finger, "And here I though you'd never talk dirty."

"There's a lot you still don't know about me love. I'm more then happy show you." He points his cock toward you and scoots up a little bit closer, "Have you ever been covered in cum?"

Your eyes widen, looking from his eyes to his aching cock, "No." Your voice was almost a whimper, "If it's you though, I'd be willing to try it."

"Good because... I'm about to explode." Maybe a bit of a poor choice of words considering his powers. It wasn't a few seconds later that you realized that he wasn't really kidding. He came with a broken growl, stroking himself furiously while he covered your stomach and thighs with his cum.

It was really warm on your skin, and so fucking hot to see him lost in so much passion and lust for you that he couldn't contain it anymore. Neither could you.

You felt your inner walls clench around your fingers, thrusting deeper, curling them upwards and pressing the palm of your hand against your clit and your other hand under your bra to pinch your nipple between your fingers as your body shook and convulsed with wave after wave of your orgasmic high.

Jamie leaned his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, his breathing still deep, his hands smoothing over your thighs, spreading his cum over them, warming you up even more.

You sighed when you pulled your fingers out and while still wet you ran them over his abs, dipping and scratching at them. "I think we should go on a date."

"Yeah? A little backwards don't you think?" He puffs warm air against your skin, his tongue darting out to briefly lick your sweat, "But I'd be a liar if I said I haven't thought about it. Where do you wanna go?"

"Anywhere really. Maybe a picnic? We can make the food together." You leaned to press a soft, slow kiss on his Adam's apple and then to his jaw. "Maybe to some other things in the kitchen as well."

"Oh." You feel him smile against your ear, his slightly sharp teeth biting into the lobe and tugging, "So you're into that kind of stuff. Dirty girl." His voice was low, husky, downright sinful in your ears.

"Oh my god." Your cunt clenched around nothing suddenly needed to be fill again, but not by your fingers this time, "Say that again."

"Dirty girl. I had no idea you were like this. What would you say if I laid you onto the table, spread your legs apart, and ate you for dessert." He flicked his tongue across the sensitive area of your neck as a little demonstration. By the end of the night there wasn't a part of your body that he left unexplored and not a surface where he didn't explore it on.

[quinloki]

Preceding Story: Magic Trick

Character: Marco the Phoenix Reader: fem Vibes: Soft Word count: 1,103

Marco lets your legs down carefully, kissing your calves as he rubs them. Tears have cut lines on your face, and you can feel cold cum leaking out of you. Your voice is hoarse, if not gone entirely, and sweat slicks your body and mats your hair to your face and shoulders. The bedding is almost more soaked than you, the division commander had taken you at least four different ways.

All because of one little magic trick.

“If your throat hurts,” he says warmly, hands massaging your legs as sputters of flames try to soothe you without sending you into a deep sleep. “Just pat once for no, and twice for yes, yoi.”

You pat your stomach twice with what little energy you can muster and he smiles.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He tilts his head as he asks. “I did my best to hold back, but uh… my apologies.”

You pat once and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“I can wrap you in a sheet and carry you to the bath, or I can stay with you until you can walk.” He offers. You think for a moment, and pat the bed. Marco smiles, lifting you and moving you enough that you can both fit on the bed. You feel him flinch from the cold mess on the covers and he puts you on his chest.

With your head nuzzled by his shoulder, your feet just barely make it past his knees. Not that you were surprised, Marco was something like 6’8”, and you were not.

“There, I think you’ve spent enough time laying in that mess,” he hums, running his fingers over your hair and down your back. “I’m so happy you pulled that stunt, pretty bird. Beyond happy, honestly.”

You pat his chest twice and he chuckles softly. “I’m glad you’re not regretting it.” Tilting his head to the side he kisses the top of your head. “Izou was threatening to tell you himself, if I didn’t first.”

“The bet.” You croak the words a little, and it’s soft, but he hears you.

“Yeah, he said you were going to man up before I did.” He admits, his chest shifting as he chuckles soundlessly. “Bastard’s not going to let me live it down, yoi.”

“Ace same,” you sigh, nuzzling into his neck a bit more.

“If he gives you too much grief, you can lean on me.”

You shake your head. You appreciate the offer, but you can handle Ace. You press kisses into Marco’s neck, feeling his fingers twitch against your back, and hearing his breath catch in his throat. You can feel your desire for him swirling around in your blood. You’re entirely too worn out to do much more than kiss his neck, but you’re desperate for more of him.

The sun’s going to come up soon. Marco’s room is trashed. You’d both gone for hours, with barely a few moments between rounds. As much as you’d wanted him to want you, it seems he had exceeded all you needed. Add to that the stamina he possessed, by his own talent alone, or enhanced by the mythical zoan you didn’t care to guess, but it was beyond what you could muster.

“Careful, pretty bird.” Marco’s voice is barely more than a whisper. “I can still go a few more rounds.”

You freeze, body tensing against his. You withdraw the teeth you were getting ready to sink into him, and instead give his neck one more kiss before relaxing again. Maybe some point down the road you’d consider goading him into another round or two, leaving the man to deal with your passed out form, but not tonight.

Or this morning rather.

It seemed a bit much to leave him on his own after the first night, but no matter what the future held for you, you were certainly going to have to work on your own stamina. You had no delusions of being able to outlast Marco, first division commander, beloved son of the mighty Whitebeard, immortal phoenix, and ship’s doctor.

“Think you can stand?” He hums after a long enough silence you almost started to doze off.

“… Sometime next week, maybe.” You admit, voice a little more clear than it was earlier.

Marco chuckles, rubbing your back. “In that case I’ll carry you. I just don’t want you to fall asleep without getting cleaned up first.”

“The sheets are all… messy.”

“We can sleep in your bed, if you want - er, if you’re alright sharing it.” He hastily amends.

“Certainly, but I meant… for getting to the bath.”

“Ah. Well, if you don’t want to risk someone seeing you, I can… hm.” He looks around, trying to sort out what to put you in.

“… Your shirt?”

You had to have imagined it. You had to.

The strange noise that escapes Marco almost sounds like a squeak. You certainly saw his body flinch, but you couldn’t believe that he’d make such an adorable, and oddly pained sound. It took you a moment to sort out why he would have that sort of reaction, but before you could amend your idea he was already picking his shirt off the floor.

“It is,” he looks reluctant and delighted at the same time, “big enough, yoi. Less hassle to deal with than your clothes, all things considered.” He admits, holding it out to you before he goes and grabs his own pants.

“It’s not going to be a problem, is it… doc?” You question teasingly, voice crackling only a little.

“Only if you want it to be, pretty bird.” He replies with a crooked grin.

“Mmm… Maybe next time.” You admit, buttoning enough of the shirt to keep it mostly closed as Marco lifts you from the bed. “But I’m going to be asleep all day, if I can get away with it. Someone quite handsome had me up all night.”

“I can make a cot up for you, in the exam room.” He offers, pink dusting his cheeks and ears. “Unless something comes up you should be able to sleep the day away, yoi.”

“Are you going to sleep?” You question, and the look on his face gives him away. “Then I’ll stay up.”

“I’d rather you rest.”

“Then rest with me.”

“Pretty-.”

“Just… just for a little bit, okay?” You’re certain the pout on your face is a little more severe than you intend, but you can’t help but worry. “I realize you’re the amazing Phoenix, but still.”

Hugging you closer he kisses your forehead. “I think I can spare a moment or two, pretty bird.”

[dewsgremlin]

HC ABOUT DEWDROP AND HIS NAME

Hear me out, what if Dewdrop is unhappy with his name after his elemental transformation? Because every time someone calls him, he is reminded of how he was burned out as a water ghoul and everything he was and knew just wiped out. Even though he feels more connected to fire than he ever did to water before, he can't shake off the painful memory. Every time he introduces himself or someone says his name, there is this slight flinch. The brief emptiness in his eyes, as if Dew's thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

It is Rain who suddenly brings up the subject as they watch a documentary about sharks on the couch in the evening. Dewdrop has made himself comfortable between Rain's legs and is laying with his head on Rain's stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around the water ghoul's hips. Rain's slender fingers tirelessly stroke his long hair and gently massage his scalp. Dewdrop loves these moments between them when he has Rain all to himself, without Swiss constantly talking or Sunshine claiming Rain for some video game.

"You know, phoenixes are incredibly fascinating and impressive...," Rain suddenly begins, drowning out the monotonous voice of the announcer who is currently reciting the eating habits of a hammerhead shark. Dew hums to indicate that he is listening. He's used to Rain often making random, unrelated remarks out of nowhere. Even though he often finds it difficult to understand Rain's leaps of thought. Sometimes Dewdrop imagines Rain's brain as a room where his thoughts swirl around in complete chaos, and occasionally random facts or statements are relayed to Rain's speech center. It's as if Rain has no filter, neither for leaps of thought nor for the blunt truth that he speaks as it is on the tip of his tongue.

"Phoenixes burn and then rise again from the ashes.", Rain continues. He gently runs his finger over Dewdrop's temple and lovingly strokes a few strands of hair behind his ear.

"Yes. Really impressive, Rainy.", confirms Dewdrop, while he relaxes and looks at the coral reef shown on the screen.

"You are like a phoenix," the dark haired ghoul says. Dewdrop's body stiffens. Confused.

"What?"

"You burned as a water ghoul, only to rise even stronger from the ashes of your past."

The corners of Dew's mouth twitch. He likes how Rain turns his most vulnerable moment into his strength. In fact, Dewdrop is stronger as a fire ghoul. Not only because fire ghouls are pretty high up on the food chain, but he is nowhere near as sickly as he was as a water ghoul.

"But for phoenixes, it's an endless cycle, isn't it? Burn, rise again, only to burn again?" Dewdrop replies, blinking at Rain. The water ghoul gives him an innocent smile. "For phoenixes yes, but not for you, the fire is no longer burning you. It's been burning for you since you rose from the ashes like a phoenix."

Dewdrop can't help but sit up a little to press a kiss on Rain's jaw.

"You know, maybe we should call you Phoenix," Rain explains, finally getting to the point he wanted to reach. The fire ghoul looks at him, a little surprised. "Do you think so?" he asks. Rain nods with a smile. Dewdrop makes a noise of comfort and lays his head back on Rain's stomach. Phoenix. He likes the name.

Personally, I still like the name Dewdrop. But I guess, Phoenix would make a super cute nickname for him, in my opinion.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Omg omg omg LOGAN... please... babe... I will give you my firstborn???

I NEED a Phoenix! Reader logan story where somehow through the multiverse shenanigans days of future past logan meets with reader whos in this marvel universe and she's basically taken the spot of Jean like, there was no Jean, just y/n.

And it's just them falling into a routine like they've been together for so many years, and they're just catching up on lost time, spending every moment with each other, he's amazed at how you can control your powers, even though you still have difficulties and they're so understanding of each other and they're just IN LOVE---

I'm so sorry if this is so complicated lol ily

omg baby this is so good!!

it's your hair that catches his attention first, long and red and curly down your back. then your suit, similar to his universes jean and he's scowling at the professor.

"is this some kind of a joke? who is she?" you can hear them, but logan doesn't care, not even as you help alex move something from the plane.

"she's this universe's pheonix. but she's nothing like jean," it's high praise if it's coming from the professor, "she can control it, or control it better than our jean."

it's hard for logan to warm up to you at first, but he tries. mostly because you're so kind even when he's brutish and crass.

"logan," you say as you sit down beside him, hands hovering in your lap as you stare at him. "why don't you like me?"

he's got a cigar in his mouth as he contemplates your question. "s'not that i don't like you kid," he says carefully. "i just," he sighs, pulling the cigar from his mouth. "i just knew someone with your exact powers and it didn't end too well for her."

you nod, "the professor told me about your phoenix," your eyebrows draw together, logan grunts when the tip of his cigar is lit and burning. "sometimes the power is too much, but most times, you can get it right."

the war only brings you and logan closer, the entire thing a bit taxing on you as you fight and try to keep everything in order.

you're fighting mystique when you can feel the phoenix coming forward.

"you're gonna need to get everyone out of here, logan!" you yell, wrist flicking to draw away some of your companions coming to help.

"what are you thinking of doing?" he yells back, and you close your eyes, showing him your plan in your mind.

'be careful,' he speaks to your mind and you smile, stretching your hands forward to reach the machines.

you're still not sure what your power looks like when the phoenix comes out, but you focus on the sentinels, focus on keeping them away from the people who have come to be your friends.

your scream is the last thing you're aware of, then logan catching you before you fall to the ground.

"c'mon sweets, don't think you're getting away from me that easily."

"wouldn't dream of it logan, but did we win?"

he chuckles, gives you a nod and watches as a smile spreads on your face. "did you like the phoenix?"

he tuts, shaking his head, "like you better."

when you both get back to the future, you and logan settle in together to no one's surprise.

"did you ever know that would happen?" he asks you one day, your body draped over his as his hands massage your thighs.

"i can't see the future, so no." you giggle when he pinches your thigh. "honestly, i thought you'd never warm up to me."

he frowns a deep frown, "what?"

you lean on his shoulder and say, "well you were always broody and grumbly when i was around, like you were waiting for me to screw up or do the same thing she did."

logan's heart pinches a little, "m'sorry princess. i know you're not the same as her. m'sorry." his forehead is pressing into yours now and you smile.

you wiggle your fingers and the lights dim, making logan smile. "i know you are," you kiss his jaw, "do you think you could build a bookshelf from thee wood out in your workshop?"

"you're getting better at deflecting affection," he kisses you square on the mouth. "yeah, i can build you a couple shelves." logan makes no move to get out of bed though- instead he flips you over so you're under him again and squealing.

[saltsicklover]

Part Nine

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4200+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Tobacco, Smoking, Argument, the mention of death, mention of SA, Bob being heartbroken and fucking angry

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Rooster and Phoenix sit in the Bronco silently and Sunny sleeps in the back seat. They both fidget in their seats. Natasha wiggles, adjusting her whole body. Rooster cracks his knuckles repeatedly. They only make it through the next stop sign before the quiet is broken.

"Did you know Bob smokes?"

"I have so much information on Bob," 

The pair speak at the same time, both of them shooting a glance in the rearview to see if Sunny is still asleep. She doesn't even stir. 

"You first," Bradley speaks again, flicking on his blinker. The signal blinks blinks blinks. Natasha takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. 

"Sunny has been talking about this guy who broke her heart, God, Rooster, she has been talking about him for years. I knew his name was Bobby, but fuck, I didn't even stop to think that her Bobby would be our Bob! Hell, Bob is a nickname, and do you even know how many Bobs there are in the world?!" Phoenix's voice is a bit exasperated. Sweat is settling around her hairline even though the windows of the Bronco are down. The breeze blows throughout the cab of the vehicle, prickling gooseflesh takes over her skin. 

She chances a look at Rooster who doesn't pull his eyes from the road. He clears his throat quietly before running the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. He sighs. 

"You can't blame yourself for that, Phoenix. It's not like Bob isn't a common name, or even Robert for that matter. Her Bobby could've been anyone," Bradley squeezes her hand before bringing his own back to the steering wheel. 

"I know a lot about Bob, so much I didn't even know that I knew!" Phoenix's hands are on her head, fingers massaging circles into her temples. Her voice is higher than normal, like the stress it tweaking the octaves. 

"So, you knew Bob smokes?" Bradley brings the conversation back around to his original thought. The vehicle slows for a red light. When they stop, everything is quiet for a beat. 

"I didn't know that I did. As far as I knew, Bob was just Bob. Clean cut, quiet, damn good at his job. I didn't even think he dated, but, oh my god," The color all but drains from Phoenix's face. 

"What is it?" The vehicle begins moving again with the change of the traffic light. 

"Bob fucks," Her voice is so quiet she doesn't even hear herself say it. 

"Phoenix?" Bradley prompts, chancing a glance in her direction. 

"Bob fucks," She tries again, a little louder this time. She wouldn't have thought Bradley heard her if the car didn't swerve a bit as the words left her lips. 

"What?" 

"I guess when they were in school, back in Montana, Bob was some sort of huge player! He was captain of the swim team and broke girls hearts. That was his thing," Natasha works to recall stories from over the years, ones that came in few and far between. Sunny was never big on talking about her school life before they the pair started speaking. But, as time went on, Sunny told Natasha more and more. 

"Sunshine said something about that earlier, too," Bradley nods, turning on his blinker once more. They make the turn into a driveway of a very nice house. It's in a neighborhood about fifteen minutes outside of Base. It seems completely unassuming in the dark, and really it is in the light too. It's in a neighborhood filled with Military members and their families. Their house being one of the only few where the small front yard isn't littered with children's toys. 

"Do you think he is hiding anything else from us?" Natasha's voice is so small now. 

"Hey, Nat," Rooster puts a hand over her own rested on her thigh, "Everyone has a past, that is just a part of life. We aren't going to know everything about each other just because we work together. Just remember, we know Bob, and he has never let us down, so that's gotta account for something, right?"

When Natasha finally exhales the breath she had trapped in her lungs, she all but deflates completely. "I guess you're right," 

"Let's get you two inside," 

"Should we wake her?" Natasha asks, turning to look at Sunny. She has barely changed positions, except her face is turned further into the backrest of the seat. 

"Don't bother, I'll carry her," Bradley tells her with a curt nod. Once the passenger seat is folded forward, Bradley maneuvers Sunny's sleeping form from the backseat and into his embrace. He carries her up the front steps, following after Natasha. 

There is a single light on inside where Bob is sitting, a glass of dark whiskey in his hand. He has changed out of his uniform, now in jeans and a t-shirt. It was rare for anyone to see him like this, so dressed down. His civilian clothes he wore to work were always more put together, khakis and a button down shirt. Bob's glasses sit on the side table, under the lamp. He grasps the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. He runs a finger over the lip of the glass that is balanced on his thigh. 

Natasha and Bradley enter the house. They toe off their shoes, Sunny curled up in Bradley's arm.

Bob chances a quick glace up at them from below his eyebrows but doesn't say a word to the pair. There is a moment before they even realize he is sitting there. The group coming through the door are surprised to find Bob in this state, disheveled and sullen; they are even more surprised when he brings the glass of dark liquid to his lips. They all share glances, no one quite ready to make the first move. Then, Bradley clears his throat lightly as he adjusts Sunny in his arms. 

"I am going to go put her in the guest room," Bradley dismisses himself before disappearing further into the house and up the stairs. He carries her like his father used to carry his mother, minding each of the corners that her body could come in contract with on the way to the bedroom. He twists his hips so her ankle won't catch the banister and he leans to keep her head from making contact with the door jamb. 

Bradley lays her on the bed, her feet hanging off the end. Carefully, he grabs one of her calves, bringing her foot up just high enough to grasp the heel of her boot. He tugs the leather off of her foot before carefully laying her leg back down. He sets the boot at the foot of the bed, toes facing out, just in case she holds the same weird superstition that he does. Then, he grabs her other calf to repeat the process. 

This time though, as he goes to set the boot down next to the other, the warn bit of leather at the opening of the boot catches his eye. He runs a calloused fingertip over the well warn grooves of the leather. He knows exactly what used to sit there, what caused that mark in the first place. 

Something between anger and pity rises in his chest. God, he is angry at Bob for hurting her- but somewhere deep in his subconscious he knows that anger isn't going to get him anywhere. Bradley also pities Bob. He can tell how much the other man has lost from the short amount of time he has spent with Sunny. Bob threw away something that every man dreams of- a girl who is going to show up and love him, regardless of the circumstance. He saw that relationship with his parents, the way they loved each other and how the world stopped the moment his father  was no longer there. Bradley can't imagine anyone throwing that away willingly. 

He sets the other boot down before hoisting Sunny further up into the bed. He brings the sheet over her, leaving the comforter folded halfway down so she doesn't overheat. Then, he leans just above her to push open the window, letting the cool night air drift into the bedroom. 

After, he disappears into the hallway, heading for the laundry closet. He opens the dryer, checking if they are Phoenix's clothes before pulling out a large t-shirt from inside, as well as a pair of shorts. He folds them haphazardly as walks back into Sunny's room. Bradley leaves the garments on the end of the bed before disappearing once again, this time closing the door behind him. 

Bradley slips down the stairs, interrupting Bob and Phoenix's conversation as he enters the room. 

"I got her shoes off and got her settled into bed. She didn't even wake up. I also threw some of your clothes from the dryer at the end of the bed for her. I'll leave you guys to it, goodnight," He crosses to the door, not chancing a look at Bob. He pulls his shoes on almost too quick. 

"Thanks, Rooster," Natasha nods, a thankful expression crossing her features. He nods back with a tightlipped smile before disappearing out the front door. Natasha watches the closed door for a moment before turning back to Bob, her face expressionless. 

The smell of tobacco is stuck to Bob now, from the smoke he had at the Hard Deck, and then the three he had on the way home. The two share a look for a moment, no words needing to be said. Nat moves to the couch across from him. She sits, her hands folded in her lap. Bob still plays with the edge of his glass, his nail running over the glass. 

"Bob," Phoenix starts, "God, I don't even know what to say..."

"I know I fucked up, okay? I don't need to be reminded," He snaps at her, eyes glued to the contents of his glass. 

"Hey, don't bite my head off! I just- I was-" Natasha fumbles over her words before taking a deep breath, starting herself over. "Are you doing alright?" 

Bob's eyes snap up at her words. That was the last thing he was expecting her to ask. 'How could you?' 'What's wrong with you?' or anything else would have made for sense to him. He sputters a bit. 

"Am I doing alright?" His eyes are glassy as they meet hers, "No, I think I'm the furthest thing from alright," He brings the glass up again, shooting the last finger of liquid. He doesn't even grimace and that fact surprises Natasha. 

"Oh, Bob," He shakes his head at her, eyes coming back down to meet the floor. 

"Don't, Phoenix. I dug this grave a decade ago, I guess it's about time I lie in it, huh?" 

"Bob, it doesn't have to be like this," Natasha attempts, her eyebrows pulled together. 

"You don't even know the half of it," Bob rolls his eyes. His tone is snappy and short, like he doesn't even want to entertain the subject. Hell, he doesn't even want to be sitting there with her right now, especially when Sunny is asleep just upstairs. 

The only thing he wants is to walk upstairs and knock on her door. He wants to talk to her, at the point, she could yell at him, curse his unborn children and he would just be happy that he was on her mind. 

As if he hadn't been on her mind for the last ten years. 

"Then tell me!" The words come out as a shout, bristling over Bob as he clenches his empty glass. His throat is desert dry, his heart aching for whiskey and a whiff of Sunny's perfume. 

Natasha doesn't know it, but in front of her sits a broken man. His eyes are bloodshot, the skin around them chapped and aching. He cried as many tears as  his body would allow between the time he left the Hard Deck and the moment Natasha and Bradley walked through the door. 

"You don't get it, do you?" He scoffs. The grip on his glass tightens, his heartbeat pulsing through his fingers. He wants to throw the glass at the wall; he wants to watch the glass shatter, to see the glittering shards sitting on the floor. He knows the slivers of glass would shine just the way the tiles on the bottom of the pool used to. Bob wants to see it because he longs for a moment when he was closer to Sunny, instead of a million miles and one flight of stairs away. 

"I can't understand something that you won't explain to me!" There are tears threating to spill from Natasha's eyes. She is all but begging Bob to tell her what he is feeling. She wants nothing more than to fix this rift that has seemed to open up and swallow her two closest friends. Natasha feels like she is standing in the middle of a gun fight, armed with nothing but her goddamn will. 

"I said things to her that I can never take back Phoenix, you know that. Did you see the way she looked at me? I could practically see her heart breaking through her eyes when I didn't recognize her, Nat. How am I supposed to recover from that?"

"Robert," Phoenix voice starts out confident, but the shaky inhale she takes as her hands come up to wipe at the fallen tears on her cheeks make Bob stutter out another thought before she can continue. 

"Do you even know why I am the way I am Phoenix?" Bob stands, the rage building within him. It's all a large stack of tinder, ready and waiting for that right spark to set it all aflame. 

"I am like this because I wanted to be a better man," He pinches the bridge of his nose so tight the skin around it turns red. "The last time I saw Duchenne, she had told me that-" He stutters out the words, tears building up in the back of his throat.

"That she thought I was different, that I was a 'good man' but I fucking left her Phoenix. I left her sitting there in the dirt with tears in her eyes all because I was afraid of hurting my chances at getting into the goddamn Navy! The Navy, Phoenix, what a fuckin' joke," He laughs out a sort of broken chuckle, one that is dripping with too much knowing. 

"This isn't how it was supposed to be, Natasha. I thought the Navy, the flying, everything would keep me distracted. And maybe, deep down, I had this sick idea that she would've been in our home town, working the ranch and that one day I would hang up my flight suit and walk back into Florence as a good man, as the man she deserves,"

There is bile coating the back of his throat now, his stomach like a ship without a sail in the churning of his insides. He wants to be sick, he also wants another drink- either way his throat will burn and his stomach will continue churning. 

"I am the furthest thing from a good man now Natasha, I always have been, but somehow I think I've fallen even further down. God, let this be rock bottom because I can't take another slip," He practically collapses back down into the seat he had been occupying before. 

"Robert Floyd," Natasha's voice is stern now, thick with authority, "You are one of the best men that I know. You are kind, you are selfless, and you are brave. You get into that jet with me everyday and I know that you will get me home. Do you want to know why?" 

All Bob can do is raise an eyebrow at her. He drags his eyes back down to the whiskey glass still in his grip. He tilts it in his hand, watching the way the lip catches the light, like the shimmering of pool water. 

"Because we made a deal, and good men don't make deals they can't keep and they sure as hell don't back out of 'em either," She is so sure of the words that Bob almost believes her. 

"It was supposed to be different, Natasha," He speaks after a moment, his voice hoarse. 

"So many things in this world are supposed to be different, Bob. I wasn't supposed to lose my first wingman to a fucking false positive drug test causing him to get discharged, and Rooster wasn't supposed to lose his parents so tragically. Hell, even Hangman, he walked in on a sexual assault in progress during flight school and had to be the one to stop it. Life doesn't always go the way we think it will, but we are still here, Bob. We are still here, and we are stronger because of it,"

Bob looks sheepish at best. Completely defeated, like he was kicked while he was down, nursing broken ribs and an aching heart. The look in his eye is what really broke Natasha, because she was speaking before she even realized it. 

"I need to tell you something, okay? So I'm going to need you to shut up and listen to me," Phoenix hits his foot with her own, making the man draw his gaze back up to her. Sunny is going to kill her, but Nat pushes that thought aside. She raises her eyebrows expectantly at Bob. He just nods. 

"The whole time I have known Sunny, she has rarely talked about dating. Every guy she ever went out with never made it past the third date. At first, she told me it was because of some sort of bad habit of theirs or their inability to make conversation. I bought that at first, because I know first hand what it is like out in the dating pool. But then she met Mikael. He worked for the same company she does, but at the branch in Germany. They met in New York over a business trip. They hit it off and for all intents and purposes, he was perfect-"

"Would you quit telling me about some bastard who inevitably broke her heart? It's not going to make me feel better to know someone else fucked up with her too," Natasha kicks him again, her expression all over unpleasant. 

"Would you just listen?" She grumbles, arms crossing over her chest. Natasha can't help but feel a bit of anger flame up in her chest at his disregard, so she kicks his foot again, this time with a little more force. She raises her eyebrows expectantly, he nods in return. 

"They dated for a couple of months and I thought things were going great, then an email landed in my inbox. You want to know what it said?" Natasha pulls her phone from her pocket, unlocking it with a swipe of her finger. Bob hums, eyes watching her out of focus fingers dance across the screen. She clears her throat before beginning. 

"Dear Nash, I broke up with Mikael today. He told me on our last video date that I seemed closed off, guarded. I think he is right. For so long I have been guarding my heart because the last time I let someone in, they shattered it. At least, I thought they did, considering I have been broken hearted ever sense. But, I think my problem is that my heart has been missing. That night, my senior year, Bobby didn't break my heart, he left with it. I guess that's fitting, considering it had belonged to him for so long anyway. Maybe it's self deprecation or maybe it's just stupid, but I think my heart will always belong to Bobby, even if he was the one who caused me so much pain. Actually, I love him in spite of that. I love him, Nash. I always have, and I think I always will, that's why it's never going to work out with anyone else. They aren't him. That's all for now, sending you my love," 

Natasha's voice wavers. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes again, keeping her from looking up to meet Bob's. He sits there, mouth slightly ajar. His fingers have stilled their motion over the glass. His eyes are glassy again, throat constricting in on itself. 

"I don't-" He whispers, "I don't know what to say to that," 

"Bob, that email was from six months ago," Phoenix chances a look up at Bob, a tear escaping. It trails wet and hot down her cheek. "If you are asking me, I think you've got a chance to make things right with her. Now, I'm not saying that it will be easy, or that she will be ready to talk to you, but you've gotta try," 

"I can't hurt her again, Phoenix, I just can't" Tears are slipping quickly down his face. 

"From where I stand, she is already hurt. I think you owe it to her to say what you need to say, hell, I think you owe it to yourself," 

Bob can't believe what he is hearing. Just hours ago, Phoenix was tearing him a new one for hurting Sunny, and now she thinks that he has a chance to fix it? No way in hell. He eyes the glass again in his hand, watching the light dance across it. He pushes himself from his seat, facing away from her. There is tension between the glass in his hand and the wall.

"You really think, after everything I've put her through, that she is going to want to listen to a single word I have to say?"

"I didn't say that," She corrects, "I just said I think you should try. You two might feel better just yelling at each other, who knows? But that's for you to figure out," 

"I don't know if I can, Phoenix, I mean, what's there even left to say?" 

Phoenix stands, a small smile on her lips. "How about what you feel?" 

Bob can only pull his lips into a thin, straight line. She pats his shoulder before heading to the stairs, ready to climb into bed herself.

"You are a good man, Bob," She hums, turning to walk up the stairs. Bob stands still, waiting for the click of her bedroom door. It's faint, but he hears it. Then, his attention is back on the glass in his hand, his eyes flickering up to the wall and back down. He could shatter the glass right now, but what would that fix? It would just be another mess to clean up. 

He lets out a long held sigh before placing the glass down on the coffee table, the crystal hitting the wood with a gentle clink. The light goes out with a flick of a switch and then Bob is climbing the stairs. His joints creak along with the floorboards, both himself and the house too stiff for comfort. 

He pushes open the door to his bedroom. He lets his eyes wander over the bedroom, the whole thing suddenly feeling too clean and kept. 

There was a piece of himself that had been missing for years, that he found tonight as he smoked his first cigarillo in the Hard Deck. The part of himself that hadn't existed since he walked away from Sunny. The unkempt man who fell in love with her. There is an itching feeling in his palms, the need to get back to that man, as least in the most basic way he can, to the man who loved her before everything else got in the way. 

So, Bob pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. Then he toes off his boots, leaving them wherever they fall. With a flick of his wrist, his belt is undone. He pulls it through the loops of his jeans before dropping it. The buckle hits the hardwood with a loud thud, the leather snaking after it. Once Bob pushes his jeans down and off, he feels like he can breathe for a moment, finally, even if it is just a moment. It's deep and full, the oxygen filling his chest. He shudders. 

Bob pushes open his window, letting the chilled night breeze invade his room. The mess on the floor makes his heart feel a little more at ease, like he has some semblance of control. He dips down to grab his jeans, then pulls the silver cigarette case out of the back pocket. 

He slips a cigarillo between his lips before igniting a match. He lights his smoke before shaking out the flame. The only light in the room is the burning ash at the end of his small cigar, the room quickly filling with the deep smell of tobacco. 

Bob lets his eyes wander to the bathroom door as he takes a long drag. The smoke fills his lungs, grounding him to this moment, and this moment alone. He smokes this cigarillo, then another, letting his mind drift to thoughts of Sunny and how she must look, tangled up in the crisp white sheets, a thousand miles away, but one flight of stairs closer.

[toshidou]

Chapter One // Mouth Wide, Fangs Revealed

Series Masterlist

Pairing // Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count // 7.9k

Tags // angst, descriptions of injury and violence, swearing, ghost is a little bit of a bitch but we still love him, angst, the enemies to lovers is enemies to lovering

Summary // two weeks out from an injury that left you shaken with repressed memories, it becomes apparent that soon you'll be face to face with the man who haunts your nightmares, and fuels the spite in your veins. the question is, will being confronted with him leave you broken once again, or will you rise from the ashes?

AN // honestly this is the longest thing i've ever written, and it's only chapter one. guys i'm scared. anyway this is just near 8k of build up to the girl's fighting <33 love that for them

Prologue

The deafening sound of whirring helicopter blades leaves your ears ringing, not in the slightest aiding the dull throb that builds behind your closed eyes, weary fingers reaching up to massage slow circles into either side of your temple.

“You good, Viper?” 

You muster a snort, peeling open one eye to cast a glance towards the brunette man opposite you. 

“Just peachy, Phoenix.” Macintosh merely grins in response, pushing himself from the thin steel bench, reaching for the handle next to your head as he yanks the sliding door open, a low whistle pushing past pursed lips as he takes in the base, bathed in darkness save for blinding flood lights that illuminate the airstrip.

“Another late one, eh?”

A new wave of pain blossoms as the chopper makes contact with the landing strip, metal foot pedals meeting rough tarmac, the action causing your aching body to jolt forward, hissing when your finger slips and digs into the scabbed cut on your forehead. 

It’s been roughly two weeks since you were flung like a ragdoll by C4. Two weeks since your body was left wrought with wounds, both new and old. Much to your chagrin, your Captain had given you strict orders of bed rest, the remainder of your time in Al Mazrah had been spent tossing and turning in an uncomfortable cot, being fussed over by medics as they cleaned and stitched your wounds, badgering you at least three times a day with inane questions like, “can you tell me your name?”, and “do you know where you are?”, you had come close to tearing your own fucking hair out. But as much as you hate to admit it, even those two weeks glued to a bed weren’t enough to fully heal your body, still afflicted with lingering aches and pains that leave you wincing at every bump in the road, or supposedly ‘encouraging’ slap to your back, courtesy of one Brodie Macintosh. 

“C’mon, Boss sounded pretty serious about us being on time for this meetin’, y’know what that means.” Doe huffs, shoving her hand into her trouser pocket, fingers emerging with a pack of painkillers pinched between gloved digits, thrusting them in your direction without sparing you a glance. 

“Means I’ll probably get to have at least one hot shower before we’re jettin’ off to another crisis, think we’ll ever get more than one night off at a time?” You just barely make out Macintosh’s words over the thunderous roar of blades above you, not at all aided by his thick Geordie accent that blurs every syllable. You take the drugs, popping them from their casings and swallowing them dry, cringing lightly as they slowly work their way down your throat.

“Probably not Nix, turns out people are dead set on starting world war three.” With more effort than you care to admit, you heave yourself off your seat, and climb down onto the tarmac, ducking your head as you run under still whirring chopper blades. Without turning back, you begin the walk from the landing pad to your Captain’s office. 

“Which means we have to deal with your ghastly stench for another fortnight.” You can practically hear the grin that stretches at Jane’s lips, don’t have to turn to know that Macintosh most definitely stuck his tongue out at her in response. 

“Yeah, real mature, dickhead.”

You sigh, dropping your head to hide the laugh that threatens to spill past cracked lips. 

“Shut ya gob, Bambi.” 

Their banter helps lighten the anxious mood you feel clinging to your bruised form, an unease that’s been ever present since the accident. You’ve gone so many years successfully keeping him out of your thoughts, never letting an ounce of his presence creep into your memories, or haunt your dreams. For a fleeting moment, you finally felt free from the grip he’d always maintained upon you. But then Al Mazrah happened, a stone cold reminder that he will always plague your mind, hiding in the shadows, waiting to render you a puppet to his power once more. 

Your squad knows your injuries surpassed the superficial, that whatever you experienced changed you somehow, made your muscles taut, your gaze sharper, like you were constantly on the defensive. 

Footsteps echo through empty halls, dimly lit by cheap bulbs that cast an ugly yellow glow against the plain cream paint of the barrack halls. The silence is broken not by you, or your two companions, but from low voices that leak under the crack of your Captain’s door, the words indistinguishable, but the deep grunt that curls around intelligible syllables has the hairs on the back of your neck rising. Jane raps her knuckles against wood thrice, leaning against the door frame as she waits for permission to enter, given mere seconds later by the booming voice of the one and only Ryan Samuels. 

You fight past a sudden feeling of nausea as you step past the boundary of the office door, eyes locking with the unmistakable figure that is Captain John Price, leader of Task Force 141. He’s not joined by his infamous squad, praise the Lord, but his stance carries the staunch confidence of a man who knows how much power he alone wields, hands gripping onto the leather straps of his harness where it meets at his collarbones, azure eyes narrowed as they lock onto you. He sniffs, head jolting to the side as he motions for Macintosh to close the door behind him. Only once the click of the lock sounds does he speak, turning back to your Captain, who sits at his desk, his broad back ramrod straight against the spine of the imposing black leather chair. 

“Let’s get started then, shall we?” Gruff words accompanied by the slam of documents as they’re tossed onto the mahogany desk below, each stamped with a bold red “CLASSIFIED”. You try with every ounce of residual energy you can muster to pay attention, to follow along with the rough drawl of the man before you, but it’s near impossible to hear him over the hammering of your heart against your fractured rib cage at the sheer thought of who exactly it is that works under his command. Though you knew this day was coming, the inevitability of bumping into him grew nearer with each day you became stronger, knowing that climbing the ranks in this institution could only ever end with one outcome: working with the Ghost. 

It’s something every other soldier in these barracks waited for with baited breath, grown adults huddled in groups and whispering to each other as soon as a mere rumour of Ghost’s presence at camp began circulating, all counting down to the day that they could brag about having worked with one of the most revered, and feared soldiers known to the SAS, if not the world. 

But you? You turn your nose at the notion of enduring his company, professionally or otherwise. You’ve never shared the reason, never trusting anyone enough to tear out your own threadbare sutures and show them the ugly truth that hides behind military garb, not even your squad. It feels wrong, revealing that you not only knew Ghost, but had once known him intimately. Romantically. It’s always been unbearably uncomfortable to hear strangers hypothesise about his past, crafting theories on why he wears the mask, but especially when they gossip about his possible romantic or sexual endeavours; revealing in hushed whispers about an encounter they witnessed where he leaned a little too close to a nurse in the medic’s bay, or when they swore they saw him take a lady home from the bar in the rec centre. 

It leaves you shaking every time, fists clenched so tightly part of you fears the bones may shatter under the pressure. And it’s pathetic really, that you let clearly erroneous rumours get the better of your carefully crafted composure, but if you’re being honest with yourself, he has always been an outlier. Different from the rest in a way that drove you insane, that still gets under your skin half a decade after you last saw his face. He knew you like no one else ever bothered to, peeled back the layers of your brain until he was left with the core of who you were; he could predict your every movement, holding out a tissue before you even knew you were going to sneeze. It ended up being both the biggest blessing, and most detrimental of curses. 

You zone back into the conversation just as Price has finished his spiel, hands coming down to collect the files spread sporadically across Samuels’ desk. One look at both Doe and Phoenix confirms the dread in your stomach is not misplaced, twin pairs of eyes gleaming in the twilight, giddy hands wrung behind their backs as if that hides obvious excitement, like children on Christmas morning. 

But the final nail in the coffin comes from your superior, the man who took the broken remnants of your psyche and crafted a monster, forged a weapon from bitter resentment and all-consuming spite, now unwittingly handing you the ultimate challenge to your hardy resolve. 

“Looking forward to working with you, Captain.” 

— — — —

Just one mission. A collaboration between the SAS’s most successful counterterrorism task forces, a decision that apparently “felt natural”, two groups fighting a common enemy are best working together, Macintosh accentuates an exaggerated rough timbre as he quotes Price’s earlier speech. If this were any other circumstance, you wouldn’t hesitate to poke fun at his clear idolisation of the 141’s Captain, instead, you’re left to amble two paces behind, feet dragging against dirt laden tiles, like a woman walking to her own execution. 

You have 12 hours to prepare yourself, to concoct your own mask, moulded from false confidence and an exaggerated bravado, rather than reinforced plastic in the shape of a skull. 

A mere 12 hours until you see him for the first time in 5 years, in full military attire, large, imposing, and hauntingly familiar. The idea of the Ghost doesn’t intimidate you the way it does everyone else. No, what terrifies you most is looking at him and knowing that just under his left eye, concealed by hard white plastic, is a small mole. That his nose and cheeks are dusted with light freckles, barely visible until your forehead brushes his. You're scared shitless of looking at the monster and seeing the man behind it, the man you once forced to dance around the kitchen, strong arms nestling you safely to his chest, white flour smeared across cheeks, his lips stretched wide with an adoring smile saved only for you. 

The same man who turned on his heel and so casually removed himself from your life. No, the only Ghost you’ve ever feared was the one he left behind, haunting the corner of every room in the house you once owned, turning precious memories into taunting nightmares. He never came back to collect his belongings, cruelty to the nth degree; you spent too many nights huddled on his side of the bed, nose pushed into a sweatshirt that no longer bore his scent and wondering if he longed for you too.

Joining the SAS had given you the opportunity to move on, to push those things behind you, to sell the house and everything in it, leaving the new owners to throw out the things you could never bring yourself to. But despite longing for nothing more than a new beginning, you only felt like you had finally been gifted the chance for a new life when you met Captain Ryan “Tiny” Samuels. An ironic name for such a mountain of a man.

It still seems so fresh in your mind, the memory of you meeting your current Captain. It had been during sparring practice, Lieutenant Phillips giving half-assed commands with a nonchalant wave of his hand, too busy nursing a thermos flask full of God knows what to even spare a glance at the makeshift fighting ring comprised of a patchwork of padded mats. Sweat had dripped down your forehead in a near constant stream, but despite your bone-deep exhaustion, you never once relented. It was a classic game of King of the Castle, one person stays on the mat until they’re pinned, or yield, replaced by the victor. You had been undefeated for a period of 45 minutes, and all because one corporal had been stupid enough to call you out first, mistaking you for an easy target. It had taken roughly 10 seconds before he was face down into the mat, slapping his free hand against the PVC as you held him in an arm bar. You hadn’t left the mat since. 

Little did you know that lurking in the dim corner of the gym, watching every soldier fall to your unshakable resolve and instinctual ability to fight, was the man you would soon call your superior. You had finally fallen 20 minutes later, a swift kick to the gut that sent you spluttering to the floor, chest heaving with built up fatigue. The winner extended their hand out, aided you to your unsteady feet with a supportive clap on the back, your lungs still burning with the lingering embers of enervation. You hadn’t even made it to the changing rooms before he emerged from the shadows, hardened hazel eyes locked to yours as he told you, with no room for possible argument, that you would be transferred to his troop. 

You’ve been firmly under his wing ever since, transformed from a Corporal fighting just to feel something, to a Sergeant, a weapon within your own right. The soldier no one sees coming, a viper. He taught you how to hone your rage, your sadness, your guilt, and reshape it into clean strikes and a sharp mind. 

The door to your quarters shuts with a definitive bang, the click of the lock automatically sliding into place has you blinking the sheen from your eyes, mind reeling as you rouse from your daydreams. The low echoes of voices from Macintosh and Davies slowly drift until you’re met with silence, a silence that should feel like an old friend, yet feels just as oppressive as the office you’ve just come from. There are so many reasons that you hate him, but it’s your relationship with the quiet that he so efficiently destroyed that you despise him for the most. You used to bask in quietude, used it to recalibrate your mind, let the silence soothe your anxiety-addled thoughts. But you can’t fucking stand it now, whispers of the past reverberate through your skull in neverending droves, memories you wish were long forgotten playing on loop, inescapable, and downright harrowing. 

You only feel the tension seep from your rigid muscles when the sound of the radio fills the bare four walls you’ve learned to call home. It’s like a cold compress to a pounding head, the way it has your shoulders melting down from where they were hunched at your ears, finally alone in a way you can tolerate, mind vacant of its usual intrusive thoughts. The bed creaks as you perch on the edge, fingers gripping the thin mattress either side of your thighs. Blinking red lights illuminating your room with a taunting flash of the time, 1:58 AM. 

10 hours. 

Fuck. 

— — — —

Somehow, you must have fallen asleep, joints creaking as you shift and peel open your eyes; squinting as the dawn leaks through open curtains, dousing your room in rich tones of burnt orange and deep amber. 

‘Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.’ Even the sun is supplying you with its judgement upon the day ahead, and its forecast is foreboding at best. 

Crackled voices continue to emanate from the radio that remains perched on your dresser, a reliable and constant source of companionship, as pathetic as that may seem. You allow yourself a few minutes of slumber, never sinking into the deep of restful sleep, instead you simply lay there and listen to radio hosts chatter about blissful nothingness. But seared behind your eyelids is the clock. 

6:13 AM. 

You meet with Price and his squad at 12, a quick ‘hello’ on the tarmac before being shoved into a helo and sent back off into the fray. Fighting side by side with the once love of your life, turned bitter, repressed memory. You can’t hold back the snort of disbelief, unable to comprehend the car crash that is your life. With a crack of your neck, you set about your usual morning routine with little enthusiasm, blank eyes darkened around the sockets meet yours in the mirror. 

You should be a little more concerned about the stranger you see in the reflection, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If you’re unknown to even yourself, what chance does he have of recognising you? In a fucked up way, it’s that thought that has your chin lifting, your shoulders squared, watching as you sharpen from the weary Sergeant to the snake. You’re not the same person who he left to shrivel up and die all those years ago, your wounds long since patched up. Sure, he left you without a heart to pound beneath scarred skin, but you never needed one of those in your line of work anyway; he’ll find out soon enough just what kind of monstrosity he helped create. 

You spend the next few hours gathering your belongings together, a small duffle bag filled with a couple of spare uniforms, some loose tops and shorts for the restless sleep you’re sure to be suffering through for the next few weeks. The biggest bag is still empty, sunken where it slumps next to the door, ready to be filled to the brim with an array of weapons. You haul the duffle over your shoulder, sneaking one final glance at your reflection in the full length mirror. 

A black halter vest tucked into military cargo trousers, sunglasses perched on the end of your nose, steely irises just visible over the top of solid black frames. You clench your jaw, and feel the last section of your mask slide into place, crushing any remaining trepidation you let linger at the back of your mind. Nothing will get in the way of you maintaining the reputation you’ve earned, especially not him. Never him.

Your steel capped boots pound against the vinyl flooring, each stride bringing you ever closer to the armoury, your hastened pace faltering when you hear a low whistle from your right. 

“Now there’s the Viper I remember.” 

“Don’t be weird, Brodie, you saw me yesterday.” Despite your faux irate tone, you can’t help the smug grin that tugs at the edges of your lips. 

“Ouch, bringin’ out the first name, you wound me, noodle.” 

Fucking noodle. He’s been calling you that ever since you were given the alias ‘Viper’, you can still see the playful glint in his eye when he pulled up the google search ‘danger noodle’ on his phone, pointing to the first image and just barely dodging the slap to his arm as he told everyone, ‘Look, identical right?’. 

“Not my fault your ego is so easily damaged,” your neck twists towards him, your spare hand coming up to gesture to the open door of the armoury, “Ladies first.” He sweeps by you with an exaggerated coquettish smile, fluttering his eyelashes so fast you’re scared he might be having a seizure. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

You tip your head down in response, letting yourself enjoy the banter that always flows so easily between the two of you. You still can’t quite pinpoint when Macintosh had gone from your over-eager colleague to a firm and loyal friend, a brother in arms. But truth be told, you’re not sure if you’d have made it to the position you’re in today without him and his unwavering support and steadfast humour, never dwindling no matter how dire the situation.   

You send a nod to the soldier at the front desk, enduring minimal pleasantries as he quickly locates both yours and Phoenix’s keys to your weapon lockers, tossing them over the desk into eagerly awaiting hands. All it takes is a swift glance to your side to notice the way Macintosh is practically vibrating out of his own skin. It’s unsurprising, really, you’ve spent many a long night listening to the stories he’d heard about the 141, the bitter reminder of him numbed by the glint in your friend’s eyes, a look you recognised immediately as immense admiration. He’s wanted to work alongside them for as long as you’ve known him, and you let that desire to see his dreams fulfilled settle alongside the volatile thrum of pent up apprehension, if only to pacify the feeling for a moment long enough that you can truly be happy that Price showed up in your Captain’s office. 

You set the empty bag at the foot of a red steel locker, your name clearly labelled across the front in bold black letters, and twist the key where it resides in the lock, sighing happily when you’re met with the sight of your beloved gear. You waste no time unhooking the brown leather harness and fixing it in place across your torso, loading each holster with your pistol, and an assortment of knives. With a firm tug, you tighten the straps until they’re secured against your chest, the familiar feeling of leather digging into your shoulders shouldn’t make you as happy as it does; maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re fully suited up, any crack in the armour is patched up with the weighted security of weaponry within immediate reach. 

It’s only once you’ve zipped up your rifles that Jane finally saunters into view, sending both you and Brodie a two fingered salute before wordlessly packing up her own gear. A large sniper rifle, an SP-X 80, her angel of death, as she so morbidly refers to it. You shrug in response to Macintosh’s bemused nudge at your shoulder, leaning down to secure your fingers around the straps of your weapon bag, the cutting sting of nylon webbing eased by the black fingerless gloves you adorn. 

“C’mon, shitbags, let’s get movin’, can’t keep Cap waitin’.” 

“Yes, Lieutenant.” You hum, barely audible over Macintosh’s booming voice as you both easily fall in step with your superior, you at her left, Phoenix at her right, a natural formation for your little trio. 

Rays of light stream through scattered clouds above, casting what seems like a spotlight on the airstrip before you, the stage set for what is sure to be an explosive show to say the very least. It all seems too perfect, poetic, like this exact scenario has been written by the forces above, and they expect it to be carried out with nothing less than spectacular grandeur. Except you don’t want drama, tension, or an eager audience to make light entertainment out of your torment, you want nothing more than to put your head down, and get your hands dirty. 

As much as you promised yourself to not let him cross your mind, not even your steadfast determination can stop the morbidly curious thought that surfaces once the helo appears on the near horizon.  

‘How the fuck is he going to react to this?’

As far as you’re aware, your presence is unknown to him. In the many years you’ve been with the SAS, you have effectively managed to evade every room he’s bothered to grace with an ease that would rival his infamous ability to blend into the shadows. Your name is unknown to most, those outside of your squad only knowing you as the Viper, a choice you made to delay the inevitable for as long as you were physically able. So it’s you who has the element of the surprise. For once, it’s you who holds the power in your gloved grasp. 

What has loose tendrils of doubt unfurling from the box you enclosed every ounce of anxiety in, however, is the complete inability to predict what exactly is going to happen the second recognition flashes behind cold chestnut eyes. All you know is that you’ve had five years to prepare yourself for this moment, and as much as you wish you could say the thought has never graced your mind, long nights spent running through this exact scenario say very much otherwise. 

You’re ready. 

Until blurred figures sharpen. 

Until their softened edges become defined. 

Until your eyes lock on harsh black, and stark white. 

Until you see the spectre that’s bedevilled your existence for entirely too fucking long. 

Until he provides the spark that ignites the anxiety in your stomach, blue flames scorching the blood that thrums though pulsing veins, leaving nothing but fury and ash in its wake.

Your wrath has a hunger equal to that of a forest fire, greedy and vicious, never satiated, never full. But it’s controlled within the confines of your skin, locked behind the bars of well taught self-restraint, a lesson you have Samuels to thank for as you focus your attention on said Captain, his eyes meeting yours with a barely there smile lifting at the edges of usually stoic lips. 

“Here they are, fashionably late, as always.” Your Captain hums, a gleam to his eyes you’ve come to recognise as him toying with his squad. You expect Doe to pipe up, jokingly back talking to her boss that only she could ever get away with. You even suspect that Macintosh may jump in, knowing that his excitable nerves will have his lips looser than ever. What you never could have predicted, however, is Gaz. 

“Viper? Damn, long time no see, eh?” It’s almost comical, how quickly your head snaps in his direction, an easy smile gracing your no doubt tense features at the sight of an old friend.

“Some might say not long enough, Garrick.” You quip, internally reminding yourself to thank whatever God has taken pity on your long-standing plight and blessed you with the distraction that is Kyle. 

“Why, still need time to practise your aim?” 

Ah. You’d first met Gaz on your first assignment under Captain Samuels, a god awful mission in Greenland, chasing some bastards who thought hiding their base in the middle of a snow riddled wasteland was a wise idea. In theory, of course, it had initially worked quite well, until a snowstorm had penned them into the very base they thought would protect them. Getting them to surrender had been a walk in the park. What had not been so easy, however, was leaving. 

Just as they were trapped, you and your team were too. So of course as everyone waited for the storm to pass, and for the evac team to eventually clear you a route out, it had been a rough 29 hours spent huddled together for a glimpse of heat. But the boredom was as deadly as the frigid chill, until Garrick set up some targets in the form of flimsy cups from a water dispenser, and handed you the unloaded rounds from his gun. You both spent the remainder of your time throwing bullets at styrofoam, with you losing by a mere point after he jabbed your side milliseconds before the projectile left your fingertips, sending it spiralling way off your initial target. 

“I hope in your old age you haven’t forgotten that you cheated to get that cheap victory, Sergeant,” You tilt your chin up, gazing at him through the darkened lens of your sunglasses, “I’d be happy to honour a rematch though, I’m nice like that.” He rewards you with a grin, any words of retaliation dying on his tongue as Price clears his throat, narrowed cobalt eyes glancing between you and Garrick with barely concealed interest. 

“That’s enough chit chat,” A light chill trickling down your spine where the gruff of his voice curls around words like smoke, “Let’s get to work. Ghost, make sure we’re prepped for takeoff.” 

It’s only then that the blissful banter and light mood dissipates, the moment shattered as the reminder of who else shares your presence hits you with a force akin to a freight train. It’s sheer instinct that has your gaze settling on the man in question, and it takes every fibre of self-control in your body to keep your face neutral, and your muscles relaxed. 

Because there, stood but a few feet from you, wide eyes burning holes into the side of your face, is Simon motherfucking Riley.

The silence is near unbearable, although in reality it can’t have lasted any more than mere seconds, it’s more than enough to let you know your sudden appearance has truly thrown him, a feat you didn’t know were possible until this very moment. Whilst never letting his gaze leave yours, he slowly begins to stalk backwards towards the helo door.

“Affirmative.” 

Rough. Rumbling. Sonorous. His truly unforgettable cadence rattles through your bones, shakes you to your core. It’s like suddenly you’re transported back to five years prior, like no time has passed at all and you’re still the lovesick fool who so desperately wanted his approval, craved his unwavering support that you’d grown wholly too reliant on. But somehow, despite the flood of once buried feelings, you maintain eye contact, refusing to back down from whatever this moment between the two of you is. 

“Well, that was weird.” A new voice chimes in, steeped in a Scottish timbre, one you connect with the infamous ‘Soap’. 

“Tell me about it.” When you turn to face Macintosh at his abrupt inclusion, you’re met with a rare stern expression, one that contorts his eyebrows until they’re nearly pinched at the top of his nose. A face that promises to ask you plenty of questions regarding the tense moment that transpired between you, and a man that you should have no connection to.

A short shake of your head conveys your message to him well enough, a sharp ‘I’ll tell you later’, it’ll be enough to get him off your back for now. Though you know that no amount of time will ever be enough to figure out how exactly you explain your relationship with the man he knows as Ghost. Samuels saves you the trouble for now, however, his baritone inflection cutting through your racing thoughts. 

“By now, you should all know the mission brief, infiltrate AQ’s base in north Adal, retrieve stolen intel, and get the fuck out of there. If we do it right, they won’t have realised the intel is missing until we’re halfway across the ocean. The two task forces will be split into three teams,” Samuels crooks a finger at Davies, “Lieutenant Doe and Captain Price will be providing sniper support from the surrounding hills. Soap, Viper, you’ll be on the ground clearing the way and ensuring there’s a safe path in and out of the encampment for Ghost to safely retrieve the stolen data, and return it back to us. Gaz, Phoenix, and I will be creating a diversion outside the perimeter, should keep them busy enough that the ground team shouldn’t incur too many issues. Understood?” 

A cacophony of ‘Affirmatives’ ring across the airstrip, all except yours, an exasperated huff falling from your lips in disbelief, because of course you’ve been put in a team with Simon. 

“Got an issue, Sergeant?” All eyes turn to you. With a low grunt, you hike your duffle bags higher up your shoulder and begin walking onto the awaiting transport helicopter, the blades slowly beginning to turn as the engine roars to life, with one last glance, your eyes lock with Samuels’, and you send him a forced grin.

“Never, Captain.”

— — — — 

The ride, to be put simply, is 6 and a half hours of torturous awkwardness, the air surrounding its inhabitants remaining stilted and uncomfortable for the entire duration. You attempted to pass the time by cleaning your weapons, despite the fact that each one is already spotless, not a fleck of dust, dirt, or blood to be found on any of them. But the repetitive motion of wiping a cloth across sharpened metal, or the meticulous deconstruction of your pistol in order to reach every nook and crevice helps occupy your mind. 

It doesn’t stop you from feeling every minute of the journey though, seconds dragging endlessly until eventually the chopper meets tarmac. Unsurprisingly, you’re the first one to exit, desperately needing to suck in a lungful of air that hasn’t been tainted by him. The heat of Adal is just as suffocating, however, the air dense, and claggy, each breath feels as though it sticks to your lungs. Thankfully, the three awaiting cars are parked firmly in the shade, providing momentary relief from the blistering sun in the form of air conditioning. The reprieve doesn’t last for long though, seconds after you collapse onto the seat, haphazardly throwing your bags of clothes and equipment into the boot, the light flooding in through the open door blacks out, shadowed by the eclipse that is Ghost. 

The cooled car no longer feels as refreshing, your chest constricting as he takes the seat next to you, leaving Soap to awkwardly climb onto the bench opposite, sapphire eyes darting between the unlikely duo as though you're wild animals. 

You’ve never minded small spaces, in some cases, they’ve almost been comforting; now, however, you’ve never felt so claustrophobic, the right side of your torso pushed as far against the opposite end of the car as your body, and unrelenting metal will allow. In your momentary panic, you almost miss the large hand that appears in your peripheral, muscles going stiff as soon as you realise that his fingers are extending towards you. 

“Comms, take it.” 

Harsh. He’s pissed. Or upset. In the time you’ve spent apart, it’s disconcerting how much, and yet how little has changed. 

You snatch the ear piece from his grasp, not risking more contact with him than strictly necessary, and slide it into place around your left ear, threading the wire through your clothes and linking it to the device attached to the strap on your harness. It only takes a push of a button for the transmitter to spark to life, unfamiliar voices of surrounding soldiers flooding your ear, quickly amending it to receive the assigned channel for your team to avoid any risk of an ill-timed headache. 

“Testing, Ground Team, do you copy?” Doe’s voice crackles, a much needed comfort when you realise this is the first mission you’ll be heading into for a long time without your team right by your side, instead having to entrust your safety into the hands of a complete stranger, and a man you’re nearly 100% sure despises you. 

“We copy, just arrived at the dropoff.” 

“Understood, we’re a minute off being in position. Captain, we’ll wait on your signal.” 

The only response is rough static, faint voices heard just under the white noise that threatens to deafen your left eardrum. You see Soap’s lips open, mouth ready to form words, when he’s abruptly interrupted by an explosion, smoke pluming so quickly towards the sky it begins to black out the sun. 

“That’s our signal.” Ghost grunts, large hands ripping open the side door and wasting not a single second to turn back to either you or Soap before he disappears. 

Two can play at that game. 

In your haste, the bag of rifles and shotguns you packed is left stranded in the boot, but you’ve gone into missions with much less than a handful of knives and a pistol and made it out with only a scratch to show for it.

“Soap, that’s our building there,” you hum, dragging his head to your eye level, steady arms pointing out the large blue building that sits directly in the middle of AQ’s makeshift camp, “If we make our way across the rooftops, we’ll drastically reduce the chances of bumping into any sorry fuckers who might get in our way.” 

You unclasp your pistol from its holster and flick off the safety, feeling that oh-so-familiar surge of adrenaline at the echo of shouts and gunfire emanating from the front gate.  

“Let’s do some parkour then, aye?” Soap straightens up, retrieving his own weapon and sending you a wink, lips curled up in a light smirk before you both set off, running towards the nearest building, guns raised as you approach an open door, just barely hung on by loose hinges. You can’t help but grin, watching as Soap tentatively pushes the door further ajar with his foot, gun raised and at the ready. Meanwhile, you’ve already calculated your way in. 

Without so much as a word, you run at the decrepit AC just to the left of the door Soap is guarding, jumping on top of the dented metal and propelling yourself up until your fingers curl around the splintering wood of a window pane, any glass blocking your path in long since shattered. It takes little effort to pull yourself up, and jump into the second story room, just barely catching the ‘Steamin’ Jesus’ from Soap where he still stands downstairs. 

Within seconds you clear the building for any possible intruders, calling out to Soap that he’s free to enter as you begin bounding up crumbling steps two at a time. You’ve already plotted out an easy path to take across the rooftops by the time Soap joins you, shallow huffs of breath pulled past cracked lips as he sidles up next to you. 

“Y’know, when I said ‘let’s do some parkour’, I meant when we got to the rooftops.” 

In response, you slot your gun into its holster, and stretch out your calves, your head just tilting in his direction as you slowly back up from the building’s ledge. 

“Try to keep up, yeah?” This time it’s you who sends him the wink, taking great satisfaction in his surprised expression before you take off, the short run up giving you enough momentum to leap from the rooftop Soap still occupies to the next. You don’t once look back to see if he’s following, trusting the 141 are competent enough to keep up with a small amount of aerobics. 

It’s moments like these when you fall in love with your job the most, rough wind driving small grains of sand against your exposed skin, fingers scraped red from gripping onto ledges and scrambling against harsh rock, knees lined with small cuts and blossoming bruises, because you’ve never felt more alive. 

It’s the screaming from below that keeps you tethered to your work though, a gritty reminder that your team is down there, risking their lives to give you cover, to get the mission done. 

There’s only one more building that separates you from the peeling blue paint of your target, you hardly hesitate on taking the leap onto the rooftop below, body automatically rolling to alleviate the impact. It’s only when you’ve come to a stop do you realise you’re not alone, a man with a sniper rifle lays prone against the concrete, the red of his laser focused upon the chaos below. You fingers have just wrapped around the hilt of a knife before your transmitter hisses to life. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered spidermonkey.” The impact of the bullet driving through his skull should send you to the floor, heaving whatever’s left of your breakfast onto the scorching stone. But you’ve been in this game long enough, and all you feel is relief at the sound of Doe’s jovial tone, a solid reminder that your Lieutenant is always looking out for you. You send a loose salute in what you assume is her direction just as Soap lands next to you, sparing you a withering glance before you’re both making your way to the last jump, muscles showing the first sign of exertion as you pull yourself into the vacant windowpane. 

“This is Viper,” You murmur, fingers wrapped around your transmitter, “Ground Team have made it to the target building, route has been cleared for extract.” 

“About time you caught up.” You hate the fact you jump, hands automatically drawing a knife until it resonates that the voice is one you’re far too familiar with, exhaling a shaky sigh as you right yourself and jam the knife back into its rightful place. 

“You need to be more careful about who you sneak up on, might end up with a blade through the eye.” You can’t stop the words that spit out of you, not sure if you even tried to hold them back, eyes just barely casting over to his figure, half hidden by the shadows. 

“And you need to be more careful when you’re addressing your superiors, Sergeant, might end up without a job.” 

Rage flows anew within you, rabid fire rattling against the bars of its cage from where it once lay dormant under your skin, its teeth bared, saliva dripping from exposed gums peeled back in a show of nothing less than unadulterated aggression. But under your skin, it remains. Instead of throwing fists, you hurl him an unimpressed glare, only just managing to retain your composure when he tilts his head at you in response, harsh, cold eyes fixed to yours. Without so much as a sound, he pushes himself off the wall he leant on, large strides covering the distance between you both in a scarily short amount of time, your breath catching in your throat as you belatedly wonder if this is where he chooses to confront you. 

Yet he breezes past you, the side of his bicep just barely grazing the skin of your shoulder as he disappears from your vision. 

“Room’s this way, get a fuckin’ move on.”

And you’re left with little other option than to turn on your heel and follow him, trying to bury the hint of a reminder of how his skin felt when it used to brush yours, to take those bittersweet memories and feed them to the flames. 

For the rest of the mission, you daren’t open your mouth. Not because you’re scared of Ghost, but for fear that once you let your lips part, the torrent you’ve so diligently held within you will rip itself from your grasp. Because despite any intense personal feelings, your desire to do your job, and do it fucking well, will always be your number one priority. You utter not a single word. Not when the intel is successfully obtained. Not when you make your way back back to your exfil in the searing heat. Not when the car door slams shut behind you, tires spinning against loose asphalt as the car speeds away from the scene behind you, only just able to make out dark clouds of smoke in the rearview mirror. The car is deathly silent, save for the occasional transmission between the other two teams, all members having successfully made it to safety, and are on route to the safe house, provided by a friend of Captain Price’s. 

But it doesn’t matter how silent you are. You can feel the way tension builds, sporadic sparks that threaten to ignite the air that sits heavy in your lungs, so thick it risks choking you. You know that this can only end one way, that the hostility can only be stretched so far until it gives in to the force and snaps. You just weren’t expecting it to happen the moment you got out of the car. 

Your eyes have only just found Macintosh’s before a hand clamps down on your shoulder, your muscles coiling in retaliation as you attempt to throw his weight off you. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” 

When you turn to face him, it’s like staring into a mirror. A reflection of every ounce of rage burns within his blackened eyes, staring down at you as though he hated having to even acknowledge your existence.

“Last time I checked, I was doing my job, Lieutenant.” Try as you might to keep your voice level, you can’t help but grit out his rank, lips hissing around the syllables like it pained you to utter them.

“You know damn fuckin’ well what I meant by that.” 

You leave him with a scoff, shaking his hand from your skin and storming off in the direction of the safe house, a last ditch attempt to hold off a confrontation you’ve dreaded for at least another day. You’ve almost made it to the door when you hear your name snarled into the desert, echoing between the walls of abandoned houses, blown apart by war, old blood seared into crumbling brick. It looks like the remnants of your relationship, fragile and too far gone to be repaired. Maybe this is what Simon saw before he turned his back on you, just someone who wasn't worth the effort it would take to rebuild.

It’s that lone thought that breaks you, that has the weathered bars of the cage within you finally giving in to molten heat, your skin aflame as you whirl back around on him. 

“Do I though, Simon?” You stalk two steps closer, eyes narrowed to slits as your words snap through bared lips, “We both know you’re fucking awful at communicating, might have got the wrong end of the stick somewhere between your indecipherable grunts and shitty attitude.” 

If you weren’t so consumed by your own anger, you may have withered under the sneer he hands you in response, almost able to see the way his face twists with rage from under unyielding white plastic. 

“If you did all this just out of spite,” his finger points to your team behind you, circling back to him, “Joining the fucking military, risking your life, just to get back at me, you’re a whole lot stupider than I ever took you for.” 

“Oh, because you signed up with purely heroic intent, didn’t you?” The change in his stance should give you enough warning, but he’s fanned the flames within you too much for you to back down now, the fire only rising to his straightened posture, “You weren’t using deployment as an escape at all, were you Simon?” 

“Enough,” Growled words gritted out from behind clenched teeth don’t deter you in the slightest, if anything they only bolster the adrenaline that burns through shaking limbs. 

“Did you ever stop and think that this is what I wanted all along? That you were only even holding me back from doing the one thing I’m fucking good at? Or do you only ever think about yourself, huh? I signed up to the SAS not because I wanted to get some petty revenge on a man who walked out on me, not because I was running away from a shitty childhood, but because I fucking wanted to! Got it?” You end your speech roaring, the words screaming from your lungs and burning past your throat, each ragged breath you take grates against raw flesh. 

The flames begin to dwindle just enough for you to grab your bags from where Soap had placed them in the sand, right your posture, and turn. You can’t bring yourself to spare a glance at any of the others, where they no doubt stand dumbfounded outside the safehouse. You only grace them with sparse, stilted words, hoping to God they don’t see the red leaking through your shirt, a sign that the sutures you tried to hide for so long were finally ripped out, leaving nothing but the gnarly truth in their place. 

“I’ll take first watch.”

Tag list // @shuttlelauncher81 , @txmbstone , @xentari94 , @hypernovaxx

[damnaation]

Dragonheart

Dragons eat princesses—but it's not always exactly as the stories say.

Soft, safe willing fantasy AU vore—dragon J.uniper and princess Phoenix.

Like many stories, there is a dragon and a princess. A great, green-scaled beast, looking like he was carved from a massive emerald, and a fair maiden—sometimes—with hair like fine copper. Of course, everyone knows what happens with dragons and princesses, at least in the stories. However, unlike the stories, they get on quite well. Like a house on fire.

For now, though, the princess—Phoenix was her name—sleeps, curled comfortably into a hollow formed by the dragon's body and tail, coiled loosely to give her a place to rest.

“Little songbird…” A familiar voice intrudes on their dreams, and they scrunch up their face, shifting as if to turn away from it. Something bumps their side, dragging them further from their slumber, before they finally open their eyes, shooting the dragon a look—he had better have a good reason for waking them. 

“What?”

“Grumpy, aren't we?” He chuckled, nuzzling her gently. His snout was surprisingly soft, and after a moment she relented and gave him a little pat. 

“You woke me up.” They grumbled, yawning widely and rubbing at their eyes. “‘Course I'm grumpy.”

He hummed, pulling back a bit and snorting—the warm air of his breath ruffling their hair as they looked up at him. 

“I just wanted to offer you somewhere more comfortable to sleep.” His voice was a low rumble, almost a purr as he licked his snout, wings shuffling slightly. She blinked up at him, thoughtful—she knew what he was implying from the way he looked at her. Affectionate, but also hungry.

Letting out a soft hum, they stretched as they thought. The curl of his tail and body was more comfortable than the cold stone floor, but they were still at least partially laying on it. And they knew how this game went—they would play along. 

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” She asked, falsely innocent as she gazed up at him. There was a bed for the both of them, of course—he could take a human form if he wished, and she was here by choice. While he preferred his natural form, he didn't want to deprive her of comfort. 

He rumbled softly, lowering his head and making a show of licking his chops. “Somewhere dark and warm and close at hand, where no one would bother you, my love.” Sharp teeth that had never once touched their skin shone in a predatory grin as he leaned in close enough they could reach out and touch him if they wished. 

They paused as if to think his offer over, humming quietly under their breath. Drawing it out until they could see him practically vibrating in anticipation, before they reached out to put a hand against his snout. “Show me to my room?”

“Of course, my dear.” His words rumbled with an affectionate purr as he opened his mouth to scoop her up, careful to not so much as snag her dressing gown on his teeth. She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes as she felt his tongue shift beneath her—rough like a cat’s, but still gentle as he lapped at her relaxed form. 

It wasn't long before their gown was plastered to their skin with thick, clinging saliva, at which point they felt him start to tilt his head back. They took a deep breath, holding it in their lungs as he swallowed and they were pulled into the tight squeeze of his throat. The contracting muscles felt like a full-body massage as they slipped down further into his body, wringing any small bit of tension from them until they were finally deposited out into a larger space. 

His crop wasn't expansive, but it seemed almost perfectly sized for her to curl up comfortably inside—a fact she'd discovered the first night they'd met. It had been more frightening then; meeting the prince she was set to marry, only to find a large green dragon instead, though one that didn't fit with the stories she'd read—gentle, well-spoken, and clearly the one she had been exchanging letters with. But he'd swallowed her up regardless, despite her fearful struggles and protests.

Now, though, the little chamber in his chest was as comforting to them as their own bed—perhaps more so, as their bed didn't have the sound of a massive heart beating and lungs breathing to lull them to sleep. With a wide yawn they snuggled into place, already feeling the pull of sleep tug at them once more. 

“Comfortable?” He murmured, sounding somewhat amused. She simply hummed, rubbing the side of his crop with her hand in response—smiling slightly at the hitch in his breath when she did so. He rarely admitted it, but he enjoyed it when she stroked him—inside or out. A sure way to have him curled up and purring like a kitten in her—sometimes metaphorical—lap.

“I'll take that as a yes. Sleep well, my heart.” 

Letting out another yawn, they allowed the symphony of his body to send them off to slumber once more. 

Dragons eat princesses, yes—but sometimes, the princess asks to be eaten.

[stargazing15]

Worth the wait

Bob x Fem!reader

Summary: The daggers are back from their deployment. How will the reunion with Bob go? After all he hadn't tried to contact you, not even a 'We're on our way back'.

Warnings: injury (nothing bad), fluff

A/N: okay, I gave in, Bob is too cute okay - still thinking on how to make our dear Bobby sweat 😅

Previous: What a timing - Next: Make the boy sweat

Enjoy!

Tired, heart palpitations, scared, anxious, that all summed up how you were feeling for the past two weeks. No communication, even Penny was left in the dark.

Then, finally, a text from Penny that they were on their way back home. First night of good sleep. They were all okay, Bob was coming back.

The strange thing was that you got a text from Phoenix with the exact date and hour of arrival and when they would be able to meet you at the Hard Deck. Of course in the middle of your workday and of course your boss wasn't allowing an early leave for the day. Bob had sounded excited to start over with you again, so why wasn't he the one texting you?

Despite the lack of communication from Bob's side, you had messaged him quite a few times over the last few days, only they didn't get the normal recieved-icon.

Focusing on the positive part, everyone coming home, you put on the new dress you bought. It was hugging your curves in all the right ways and it was loose from your hips. If Bob maybe had lost interest in you, maybe someone else would.

Some guys at work indeed appreciated your dress, it weren't creepy comments, as you knew the persons behind the whistles. They knew what you've been through and are trying to lighten up the mood. And it did lift your spirit getting nice compliments.

After a long workday, you were more than happy to hop in your car and go to the Hard Deck to meet everyone. The moment you entered, you got attacked by Khaki-uniforms hugging you. Only one was missing, the one you were secretly longing for.

"So, he ain't coming?" Disappointment was written all over your face.

"Oh Y/N, he is coming, he needs to make a stopover before he can come here. You'll understand when you see him." Phoenix chuckled.

While catching up with everyone, your neck and shoulders started to get sore. You were one of those where stress always took it out on your body. While talking to Coyote, he had noticed it too on your posture and suggested to massage your neck. On queue, as you were thinking about to call it a day, because of the wait for Bob and the anxiety for the reason him not being here had drained you, the front door opened. You only hadn't noticed it yet, being a little too engulfed in your conversation with Coyote. You had been able to preorder the new limited edition sneakers you knew he wanted to add to his collection. Only they came out with Coyote being stuck on the carrier without Internet. That the man was as happy as a child got the coolest gift ever was an understatement, so the massage was a little thank you.

Bob was now behind you, slightly hurt by the sight in front of him: you and Coyote, again, this time he was massaging you. Only, did he know Coyote probably was going to marry his sneaker-collection first before ever trying to hit on you.

Bob's soft "hmm" broke you out of Coyote's heavenly massage. When you turned around, shock washed over you as you saw Bob's appearance. "Oh my god, Bob! What happened? I thought they said no one was injured?"

"No one got injured during the mission. I, uh, funny story. After the debrief I got a little too excited be going home, to see you again and I, uh, tripped over my own feet. My arm broke the fall." Still fueled on your anxiety and tiredness you slapped Bob on the cheeks. It was not too hard, but hard enough to leave a light pink handprint visible on his cheek.

Only one emotion had now filled the area: shock. Not just Bob, everyone was shocked by your reaction.

"I - uh for making me worry sick while I should be mad at you. I still should be so mad at you, no communication, nothing. But I can't." The last part you had whispered. "S-sorry Robby, oh god, I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm so confused. Sorry, I-I-"

"L-let's talk outside." The second you slapped him, his insecurities and shyness had come back. Just like the day you met, but this time around he knew what he could loose.

The jitters were back in his belly, his legs suddenly felt a little wobbly when he saw you. He was still in awe by your appearance. Even in joggers you looked like an angel to him, but this dress, damn. The prettiest angel existing. Only he hadn't expect the angel palming a hand on his cheek. But you had a point. He could have borrowed Phoenix' phone to call you, but he didn't.

Bob had taken your hand in his to lead you outside, but froze for a second at your touch. The way your hand fits perfectly in his, the not injured one, made you both forget your surroundings for a moment. The world around you had fade away, just a couple of seconds it was only Bob and you, you and Bob. Just a couple of seconds of piece, before getting greeted again with reality.

Bob took you a little further down the beach, where you two had escaped a lot more in the past for a little one-on-one time. "Is uhm, is it okay here?" He knew he shouldn't be nervous or shy around you anymore, but he couldn't fight it. He knew this was his last chance with you and already felt like failing for not trying to call you. So everything now had to be calculated and thought through.

"It's nice here, thank you, has nice memories." You said while taking your sandals off before plopping down on the sand and signalling Bob to sit next to you.

He sat down next to you letting your knees touch. The body heat radiating from underneath his khakis felt like a welcome home. So you decide to melt into the feeling, as did Bob.

After a silence, contemplating what to say to you, his soft voice broke the silence. "How are you?"

"I don't know, happy that everyone came back safely, tired, I - I don't know, I feel so many things. It's so confusing." You only had noticed your head feeling heavy from all the overthinking and worrying when it landed on Bob's shoulder. The band of his arm sling felt scruffy on your skin, but you didn't mind.

"Sorry for slapping you Robby. When no one wanted to tell me where you were in combination with that I hadn't heard anything from you personally, I thought that, I thought you went back to her. That made me so angry and scared and then I saw you with the cast, I was relieved. But with the tiredness and all these emotions - I'm sorry." You lifted your head up and caressed the cheek you hit gently.

"It's okay beautiful angel, I got back and I will never, and listen good, never go back to her. You are a thousand, no a million times better than her. And I was dumb enough to not realize that when I made that stupid decision."

"You basically cheated on me, in front of me and that really hurt, I should still hate you, but I can't. So don't mess up ever again, okay?"

Bob stuck out his pinky, "Definitely yes, I will even pinky promise that to you." You intertwined your pinky with his. "I will work hard to call you mine again." He had finally gained confidence towards you again, the sweet blushy smile on his face showed it. "So this dress..." There was a slight hint at the tone of his voice.

"Seems it is working." A small mischievous smile appeared on your lips too.

"For me?"

"Don't push your luck too much Robby, I am going soft on you today. Only because you are injured. From tomorrow on, your making it up to me will start."

"Yes Ma'am, I will be at your service tomorrow," he did a little salute at you accompanied with his bright smile. "I love it when you call me Robby." His voice had lowered.

"As I said, going soft on you today. I had missed your company. Do, do you think we can be us again? Like before?"

Bob let his hand caress your cheek lovingly, you melted at his touch. This made you realize even more how much you had missed being together with him. His touch felt like coming home, it was warm and familiar, but good familiar.

"I know we will need time, let the wounds heal properly. And if you still want us back, I will not make you regret it. I still love you." You snuggled even closer to him, if that was even possible, almost colliding with the cast around his other arm.

"You mean that?" The look on your face was almost like an emoji, your eyes were big and your lower lash line was decorated with tears, happy tears

"Every single word beautiful angel. I will fight for you, I don't care how long it takes, but I need you in my life, you're the only one who makes me genuinely happy. I know it will all be worth the wait."

"Oh Robby." One of the tears on your lower lash line had now escaped down on your cheek. Bob quickly laid his free hand on your cheek and removed the tear with his thumb. Your hearts started to beat out of your chests. Neither was able to look away, your eyes were locked on each other as if magnets were attached. And it felt so intimate.

Your hand made it's way up to join Bob's one on your cheek. Giving in into the moment, your body moved itself forward, leaving just enough space not to crush his arm. That close, your lips were almost touching with Bob's. Before you let your mind get the chance to take over your heart you leaned and let your lips touch. You had missed the feeling of his lips against yours. Yes, you still remembered how the short kiss was before Bob left, this one just felt so different.

Bob also leaned in into the kiss and also let his heart speak up. Neither wanted this moment to stop, so you both didn't. Your lips were magically making love to each other. Not in an erotical way, in a way where your souls were speaking to each other, saying the loveliest and cheesiest words, at this moment real words would be calculated, thought through and maybe even swallowed back in due to hesitation. While the kiss, the kiss was coming from deep down, hidden underneath all the fear of the what ifs and insecurities. That feeling deep down was more than pure happiness, this moment was surrounded with an incredible sense of love and safety. Like it was saying "It's alright, let it all go, give in, let love in, it is really alright and yes it does exist." Was the history forgotten? For a moment yes, and the fact you could kiss Bob again like this and not overthink, made your heart a little lighter.

Bob was the first to let go of the kiss. His eyes immediately met yours, searching for anything in yours. Anything that would give him hope. And your soft smile gave him that.

"That was -"

"-wow." He finished your sentence.

"Yeah." Still a bit dazed from the kiss, you seated yourself again next to Bob with your head on his shoulder.

"I am going to fight so hard for you. I know it was the moment speaking, but it was a good reminder what I'm fighting for. I don't mind the battle, it will be all with it, beautiful angel."

"Thank you Robby, for understanding. And being here." Bob gained new energy, he knew you were probably going to make him sweat a bit, but he actually didn't mind. You wanted him back, and that was all what mattered, despite the upcoming 'obstacles' on the way.

The two of you stayed like that, staring at the glinstering waves under the moonlight.

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @cycbaby @bradleybeachbabe @mavrellover91 @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @apparently-sunshine

Tagform

[ominousposting]

This is my first ever ask but I would love more hypermobile rain I read abandon your freedom by hypnoneghoul and its all I can think abt

i loved that fic and im glad that you sent me this ask! hypermobile rain is so very important to me as a fellow hypermobile person

read more under cut for convenience sake

okay so during rituals rain has a tendency to overextend their legs (namely their knees and ankles) so after rituals rain kinda has to deal with the aftermath. they always have a minor limp but it gets stronger after rituals due to them pushing themself so hard to preform.

usually they use some sort of mobility aid, i imagine they use either forearm crutches, a cane, or a wheelchair, depending on the severity and whether or not their other conditions are also acting up. they wear braces a lot but have a tendency to forget to wear them or avoid wearing them due to either fear of peoples reactions or just not having the energy to deal with putting them on/wearing them.

i find comfort in the idea of rain using mobility aids full time besides when preforming. its a situation where “yes this helps me a lot with moving safely and comfortably, but i wouldnt be able to preform while using them. i will take the pain in order to continue to preform” type of thing.

also i think the reason rain falls so much is bc of their hypermobility. knees giving out, hips cramping up and legs not holding weight, things like that happening and making them collapse.

the other ghouls are decently good at helping rain when their joints are acting up. fire and swiss both know how to relocate specific joints, aether and phoenix can both can use their magic to help them feel better, mountain and cumulus both know how to massage, things of that nature. basically their fellow ghouls make sure theyre helped in any way possible

i think that the parts of their body the most strongly effected by their hypermobility are their legs. again i state: just look at how that ghoul exists during rituals. they Look like their legs hurt. as well as the fact that rain does genuinely have a limp. also the thing they do with their legs when bowing seems to be a way of avoiding putting both legs on the ground, likely due to pain from all that exertion

also one of my biggest headcannons is that zephyr is also hypermobile and makes sure that rain takes care of themself to make sure they dont push their body TOO far and end up with serious consequences (what happened to zephyr). zephyr gave rain their first pair of forearm crutches and taught them coping mechanism to help keep their body going safely. rain is now helping phoenix in the same way

[phoenixstark1708]

neighbors

summary: phoenix catches her neighbor bucky masurbating while looking at her…

pairings: bucky x reader, bucky x OC

warnings: S M U T, two kids die :( reader is a doctor, taking readers virginity, sex at a bad time lol. - lmk what i missed

planning on this being a multi-part book

please y'all let me know what i can do better 🥲

enjoy~

I was getting ready to shower, curtains open, I tug off my pants, my thumbs hooking on my panties. I pull off my shirt and, unclipping my bra, I start the water, and set it to boil. I started fumbling with my speaker and turn on my favorite band, falling in reverse. i step into the shower and feel immediate relief from my day. a little boy came in with a gunshot wound. I work in a hospital, both as an anesthesiologist and an ER doctor/surgeon. I do a bit of everything.

the kid had been messing around with his dads gun and it went off. I did everything I could, but he shot himself in his chest and knicked his left ventricle, his heart. frankly, I was surprised he made it to the hospital at all. cases were involving kids always hit harder. I needed to decompress. masturbating always helped. after washing myself, I stepped onto the nice heated floor of my bathroom. I lay on the floor in front of the window, reaching from the ceiling to the tile.

no one was home now anyway; it was the middle of the day on a Monday, and there’s nothing wrong with feeling good with a good view, the bathroom was also on the second floor. I grabbed the vibrator that I kept in the drawers in my bathroom, but I began with my fingers. I started running my hands up and down my sides, stopping to massage by breasts, twisting my fingers around my nipples. my back arched in pleasure, I rarely have time to pleasure myself, so I’m pretty sensitive. I ran my hands down my stomach, and began massaging my inner thighs.

intentionally skipping over the place I wanted to touch the most. I slowly moved my hands up to my heat, and started gently stimulating my clit, letting out a loud moan and I closed my eyes to revel in the sensation. I could feel myself getting close so I moved my fingers to my dripping entrance I pushed two fingers into myself, stretching around them. it stung slightly, but it does every time because I haven’t been dehymenated yet - haven’t lost my virginity.

I started quickly moving them in and out, getting so close. I tried to hold my impending orgasm off, to make the pleasure last. my whole body burned-a good burn- and shook as I came undone. pleasure washed over me and I was loudly moan-panting. I relaxed into the floor, feeling the stress of my day leaving my body. relief washed over me as I lay there, staring at the ceiling. my breath gradually slowed. I got up and cleaned myself off, wincing slightly from the light overstimulation. I reached for my shirt, bending over the counter, my ass in full view of the window, when all of the sudden I felt a prick on the back of my neck- almost as if someone was watching me.

I turn to look out my window, and see my neighbor, Bucky, sitting on his patio, staring at me, his hand wrapped around his massive c0ck. he threw his head back in pleasure before he noticed me looking at him. I watched wide-eyed as he finished himself off, the tip of his cock releasing a LOT of cum onto his hand and shirt. I was seriously surprised at how much cum there was. I took a male reproductive class in med school and that much semen shouldn’t have been possible. like seriously. he slowly tilted his head back toward me, eyes still closed in pleasure, he continued lazily stroking himself as he groaned.

he opened his eyes and looked at me again. he stopped pumping himself once he saw me staring at him, shocked; and maybe a little creeped out. he looked like a deer in the headlights - or maybe like a guy who was caught masturbating while watching his neighbor. he froze for a solid 5 seconds, staring at me in my eyes, hand still firmly gripping his length. I was frozen aswell, trying to grasp the situation. when I rushed to cover my body, he snapped out of it, basically tripping over himself trying to pull up his jeans and get back into his house. I quickly closed the curtains.

buckys POV

I immediately regretted it. she must think of me as an absolute creep. I just couldn’t control my urges. I don’t know when the last time I felt anything but misery. when I met her, she smiled at me. she didn’t look at me in fear, as most people do. my heart skipped in my chest the moment I saw her, and now I fucked up. I scared her. I presented myself like a perv. I was sitting on my patio, which just so happens to be facing her fucking house, right below her 2nd floor bathroom, when I saw her taking her clothes off. my blood went directly to my dick. I hadn’t had an erection since the ‘40s.

i couldn’t help but stare. she got into her shower, and the sight of the steaming water running down her back made me audibly groan. she covered her body covered in soap suds, rubbing herself down. I wished I could be the one feeling her body, worshipping her perfect curves, massaging her breasts. this woman is going to be the death of me. I started palming my aching cock through my jeans. she stepped out of the shower and grabbed something from a drawer in her bathroom. she laid down DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HER DAMN WINDOW, I was confused.

my breath hitched in my throat when she began running her small hands up and Down her body, I stared in disbelief as she started groping herself. then she started masturbating. right. in. front. of. me. well, she didn’t know I was watching her, but still. my cock was so hard at this point, it was leaking precum. the moment I freed it from my boxers, I breathed a sigh of relief. I don’t know why, I just needed the release. I started jerking myself off while she pleasured herself. damn it felt good. I hadn’t felt this good since before I went to war. my god. I was already embarrassingly close to cumming.

i noticed, by her body language, that she must be too. I held off temporarily, I wanted to watch her cum first. if I was having my way with her, I would force her to cum for me so many times before I even considered touching myself. I stopped my hand movements, my cock aching. I watched her arch her back violently, and her whole body tremble while she came. god I wish I could taste her. when I knew she was done, I resumed my movements.

I watched as she reached for something on her counter, giving me a full view of her ass and her cunt. it was from a distance, but luckily my sight is heightened from the super soldier serum. for the first time in my life, I was glad I was a super soldier. I was throbbing at this point. it my balls felt so full it almost hurt. I was painfully close to cumming.

I threw my head back in pleasure as my orgasm took over. I was groaning so loud, she probably heard me. my eyes were screwed shut, and my breath came heavy. I let my head go forward, still lazily jerking myself off, imagining having her in m my life. a smile crept onto my face as I imagined that. my hand and stomach were covered in cum. if it was up to me, I would make her lick it all off and swallow it. fuck she would look so good with my cum on her tongue, or dripping out of her pussy- or her ass. or her face and stomach, back, or breasts. my god. I’m going to hell.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked to see if she was still there. she was. and she was staring directly at me, her mouth slightly opened in shock. I froze, my hand still around my re-hardening dick. there had to be a solid five seconds of just straight staring at eachother. I must have said “fuck” a thousand times in my head. I snapped out of it when she rushed to cover herself, I shot up from my seat and pulled my pants up, stumbling into my house. I fell right on my face. it serves me right. I fucked up. I knew I had to go over there, but I didn’t want her to kill me either. I couldn’t believe that I was so stupid and creepy. for gods sakes I scared a poor, defenseless girl. and fucked up my only chance of getting to know her.

this was me ‘assimilating’ into modern society. Steve said moving here would help me. “listen, I know you are hesitant about being somewhere on your own, but listen man, you need to get away from the fight. you’ve made amends. go relax. retire.” Steve told me. Tony set this up “your neighbors are nothing if not normal. Phoenix stark- your next door neighbor - is a doctor. so if your old age catches up to you, she can help. your other next door neighbor, chase mcpeterson is insanely in love with her, but she either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice, so he probably won’t like you. I wouldn’t get in the middle of that.

my POV

a few hours had passed, and I tried to brush off what happened by making myself dinner, and pouring a small glass of sazerac rye 18 year old whisky. an alcohol with a “mellow spice, and dry sweetness”- okay maybe a bit more then a small glass- but hey, I was off tomorrow, and the rest of the week; I was on call, but I was assured there was a small chance I would actually be required. I downed that first glass, and poured another. I turned on some music while I started the water for the noodles.

“sexy drug” was blaring over my surround sound. no doubt my neighbors could hear, but I didn’t really care. one of my neighbors is deaf, the other one almost, and then there’s Bucky. I tried to forget about him, and earlier. no matter what I did, he kept invading my thoughts. I kept re-imagining what happened, and what I wish could happen. it’s no secret that my neighbor Bucky Barnes was annoyingly attractive. it pissed me off so much. when he would be working out on his deck or patio, or working on his cars, I couldn’t help but stare. come to think of it though, I had never even seen him without a long sleeve shirt, and gloves. and yet he had seen me completely bare, and seen me masturbating no less.

yea, while he had his head thrown back, I saw his dick, but that, and barely any of his upper thighs, is all I saw. but damn. his dick had to be a solid 10/11 inches AT LEAST, and damn thick. I wondered if I could even take him. I then told myself to shut up. when I finally snapped out of it, the water was boiling over. I just decided to order take out. it’s been a day. for what it’s worth, I got steak from a high end restaurant. better then the buttered noodles I was gonna make, that’s for sure. by this point, I’d had about 3-4 drinks, and was pretty tipsy. not quite drunk enough, just tipsy.

I was dancing around my living room vibing with the song I put on when I heard a pounding on my door. I walked over, and looked through the peep hole, I saw him standing there. I stood there, frozen. why was he here? what did he want?? “Phoenix, I’m sorry. I know you’re standing there. please just open the door and hear me out.” he said, snapping me out of my thoughts. damn. I forgot about the windows on either side of the door. I hesitantly unlocked the door and pulled it open. “listen, I-“ he stuttered when he noticed my shirt. ( I was dressed in a white crop top that said “orgasm donor”(see picture) and a pair of shorts that hardly covered my ass) suddenly I started laughing. I couldn’t stop laughing, this situation was just so weird. I glanced up at him and he was staring down at me sort of quizzically, a little amused, but mostly his eyes were filled with regret.

I felt a pang of guilt at being the one who made him feel that way, I shouldn’t, but I did. “come in! comeein!!” I said, slurring my words. he hesitantly stepped into my house. I stumbled into his chest and looked up at him with wide eyes. I pushed off of his chest and straightened myself. I turned off my music and took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever stupid excuse he could possibly have. I walked behind him and closed the door. afterwards pacing to the kitchen table, I motioned for him to sit down and I went to put on a sweatshirt.

I could have sworn I saw his eyes darken in- anger? but that was likely just the light. I sat across from where he was seated, and looked at him, waiting for him to say something. “I-“ he began, cutting himself off “I’m an idiot and I’m sorry, Phoenix. I know that what I did was insane, disgusting, creepy- and I don’t know why I did it. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. really. I am. I’m surprised you let me in, if I was you I woulda slammed the door In my face.” he could probably tell I was a bit taken aback by his words so he said “I’ll go, I’m sorry about everything, and I won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure you never have to see me again.” he got up to leave, but I got up too.

“stop. are you gonna let me talk at all?” I said, he did, he went to sit back down. instead of just sitting, I went and grabbed him a glass. I poured him a generous amount, and topped off my glass. “I-uh- thank you… I wasn’t expecting that” he chuckled, and looked at me expectantly. I took a long swig of my drink before answering “Bucky, I know you- well sort of- but I’m good at reading people.

I know you’re not a bad person. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” I said, he scoffed lightly “I’ve done things. I’m not a good-“ I cut him off “shut up. do you think I care? dude. I’ve done things too- terrible things. but I’ve made amends.” I ranted “why are you defending me when I was just a major peeping Tom?? I watched you when you were in a vulnerable state, and took advantage of that. why are you defending me?” he shook his head disbelievingly. I paused for a few moments, and downed my drink. i giggled “it was kinda hot” I kept laughing, looking him dead in the eyes. the alcoholwas giving me confidence, and a lack of a speech filter. “I mean,” I continued “when I saw you looking at me, I was like extremely turned on by it” I kept on giggling, and grabbed the bottle sitting next to me, taking a shot.

I hiccuped “well, for a second I was kinda confused, like what? me? and then I was a little creeped, but my second thought was ‘damn. he’s got I big dick’” I was like full on laughing right now, my eyes closed from the bliss the alcohol was giving me. “and then you came- cummed? came? orgasmed? Idontknow. and I was like seriously confused because there was so much of it! but damn it was sooo seggsy.” I was trying to catch my breath at this point, and reached for the bottle “I think you’ve had enough sweetheart” I sighed happily at the nickname “mmm say it again plesseeeee” I whined “no, I think it’s time for you to get some rest. or water. or both.” I frowned up at him “noo I donwanna.”

“Phoenix, you need to sober up, other wise you’ll feel sick” he reached for the bottle, but I grabbed it and took another long drink. “really?” he looked at me and took the bottle from me “heheh yeesss” I got off my chair and walked over to the speaker, and turned on ‘situations’ by escape the fate, and started singing loudly, and dancing around, well, the best I could anyway. “situationss are irrelevant noww, she loves the way that I tease, I love the way that she breathes. I touched her (ooh!) she touched my (ahh!) and that’s the craziest thing!”

I was prancing around my living room, and took off my sweatshirt, leaving me in the ‘orgasm donor’ tank top. “a certain girl she took my hand and ran ran it up her thigh! she licked her lips and pulled my hair, I fall in love for a night! she can’t behavee and I’m just a slavee” I was pointing at Bucky and smiling while singing, swaying my hips, and twirling around “I hate the ones who love to hate because they’re JUST like me” I pranced over to him “a certain girl she took her hand and and put in in my lap,” he was leaning on the table at this point, so I leaned into him and looked up at him innocently “”it’s way too full” she said “once you have me you’ll always come back”” I sang, staring up at him seductively. “she can’t behaveee and I’m just a slavvee! don’t worry, I’ll be gone when the morning comes.” I pranced away. I continued singing along until the song ended.

Bucky pov

She looked over to were I was, half-leaning on her kitchen table, staring at her hungrily, like she was the last thing i’d ever see. She walked over to me, but stumbling into me. She laid against me, her hands running up my chest, the smell of her arousal hitting my nose. “mmm stay withme tonight. I want you bumcky- hic- Bucky.” I grabbed her hands, careful with my left hand so she wouldn’t notice the difference, stopping them from wandering my body. “Phe, you need sleep. I’m not staying here tonight, you are not in your right mind right now.” I said softly.

I put her hands at her sides, and gently pushed her off my chest. “What!! Noo I want you?? Whywontyou give me what I want” she said, pouting. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. Where’s your room?” She took my hand and pulled me up the stairs. She opened a door and revealed her room. The bed was in the center of the room, with night stands on either side, despite her living alone. She laid down on the bed and beckoned me over “no. I’m not taking advantage of you again.” I said, barely able to restrain myself. I wanted to climb on top of her, and give her pleasure like she’s never felt before. I wanted to kiss her sweetly while I fucked her roughly, to tell her she’s mine. And only mine. I wanted to claim her as mine. To cum inside of her, and all over her. I wanted to suck and bite her soft skin, let everyone know she’s mine. I wanted to feel her stretch around my cock, my fingers, and tongue. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Not when she can’t properly consent. She looked at me, all snuggled into her bed “please stay… I don’t wanna be alone please.” She reached her hand out “alright. I’ll stay. Where do you want me to sit?” I asked “Nono, if you’re staying, you’re laying down. There’s a whole other side of the bed.” She looked at me sleepily “okay, I’ll lay down, but just on the other side. Alright?” I say, laying down /damn this is a comfortable bed./ after a few minutes, she snuggled into me, I wanted to push her away, but she looked so peaceful while she was asleep.

My pov

I woke up to my pager going off, I was snuggled into his side, his arm holding my back. I got up quickly, trying my best to not wake him. I reached over to check my pager; it was for the ER. Some terrorist organization blew up a warehouse with both government workers, and civilians in it. I had to get there ASAP. I quickly threw on a more appropriate shirt and pants. I rushed to brush my hair and teeth, not bothering to put on makeup; people were dying. I ran down the stairs, grabbed a muffin from the pantry, I almost stopped to write a note, but my pager went off again, they hit another hospital, this one housed a VA. I put down the pen and ran to my car. I broke every speed limit from my house to the hospital. I could’ve sworn I saw the avengers jet fly by. This must be serious.

Buckys POV

I woke up to a cold and empty bed. I was surprised to find that she wasn’t there, considering it her house. Gotta say, this is the first time a girl has ever left her own house because of me. I saw a note on the counter, but it was blank. Weird. I looked out the window and saw Sam and Steve exiting my house. I ran up to them “what’s going on?” I said, my voice laced with worry. I’d hoped it didn’t have anything to do with her. “Well. It looks like someone had a fun night!” Sam said with a shit eating grin on his face “yeah. Not really, my neighbour was sick, so I helped her out.” They didn’t need to know what really happened “right…” Sam said chuckling “Sam.” Steve said, with warning in his voice. “Listen buck, I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, we’ve been busy with tracking down a terrorist organisation. This morning, they hit a warehouse with civilians, then an hour later they attacked a hospital.” My heart dropped. “Which one?” I demanded “mercy veterans hospital.” Steve said, thank god. That’s not the one phoenix works at. “Buck. We need your help. I brought a suit that’s more fit for combat. We just need you to evacuate civilians and transport them to the hope general ER. We need you for this Bucky.” I immediately agreed. Anything to help. I got suited up, and noticed that my arm wasn’t covered. I knew phoenix worked at hope general, but I didn’t have time to worry about her seeing my arm. People were dying. Steve and I were in charge of searching the rubble for survivors, I wasn’t supposed to be in the fight. Something about PTSD. i couldn’t care less. As long as I can help.

My POV

captain freaking America. He dragged someone into my ER. Like, by the arm. This person was in rough shape so I ran up to him. I took the man’s pulse and looked at captain America “why did you drag him in here?! He needs help.” I demanded, wrenching my (now patients) arm out of his grasp. Two of my nurses lifted him into a wheelchair and away to a room. The captain tried to follow, I placed my hand on his chest firmly. “Yeah. I don’t think so. You’re not kin, so you’re not going back there. Talk to him when he’s discharged or get a warrant.” I said sternly “all due respect, he did this. He’s a terrorist.” He said, looking at me incredulously. “He’s a patient. My patient.” I turn to walk away but he grabs my arm. This gets the attention of my security, but I wave them off. “There are three-dozen people in my ER right now. If you have a problem, take it up with the specialists at the desk, and make an appointment. or come back with some injuries.” I say, looking at him, clearly challenging him.

He let go of my arm and apologized “I’m sorry, just please have someone keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t run.” “Do you have handcuffs?” I ask, he hands me a pair, and the keys “mkay. He’s not going anywhere. Captain” I said the last word teasingly and he smirked at me. I went to check on my patient, Dani already took his vitals, and started an IV. He was in pretty rough shape, had a ton of bruises forming, and pretty bad lacerations all over his body. If he really did plant a bomb, he didn’t get very far away from the blast. He may have been a terrorist, but it’s not my job to decide who lives and who dies.

It’s my job to help everyone. I threw the cuffs away, there’s no way I’m going to put handcuffs on a patient. I quickly went to examine him, his oxygen, blood pressure, and heart rate were all normal, but I was worried about internal bleeding. I called someone in to cut off his shirt so I could do an abdominal examination. I checked everything and determined he needed an MRI and X-RAY. Right as I exited the room, I heard a code blue. I went to run off to the room when someone called my name “doctor! Doctor stark!” I turned around and saw captain America walking towards me.

“Just a second! Someone’s dying!” I yelled “stop! There are other doctors! Someone’s dying out here!” I turned on my heel and ran to him “where?” He took off, and I followed him, falling a bit behind cuz he’s a super soldier. I saw who he meant. A teenage girl, trapped under a block of cement, likely the only thing holding her together. I hurried over there and took her pulse “it’s thready, but she has a pulse.” I checked her airway, nothing was blocking it. “Go get my portable kit! Second door on the left, combination 7718.” I examined her injuries while he dashed off to get my stuff.

“Steve? I’m not finding anyone els-“ said a familiar voice. I didn’t have time to figure out who it was “find me a scissors or a sharp knife and bring them to me!” Whoever it was slowly started walking towards me “oh for gods sakes! Hurry u- Bucky?!” I say, turning towards the man. I was greeted with the sight of my neighbor, in a leather super suit, and a metal arm. Well that explains some things. He offered me a knife, looking at the ground. Then the captain jogged up with my kit. “Your security tried to stop me, that’s why I took so long. Oh, hey buck. what’s up?”

I went to work on my patient, vaguely listening to their convo. “I’m not finding anyone else, there’s no more heat signatures, The dogs are coming up empty. I think we’ve cleared the rubble.” I cut her shirt off, and immediately noticed a deep laceration on her side, over the RLQ. I covered the wound in gauze, and continued examining her body. When I got to her legs, she woke up and began flailing, dislodging her legs from the rubble. Well, part of them. She lost both legs right about where the femoral artery is. She was quickly bleeding out. “What’s your name, honey?” I asked her. “Marcy, Marcy Taylor. My moms name is Becky” I looked at Steve and Bucky “go find her mom. I don’t know how long she has.” I mouthed that last part. I managed to bandage her legs, so the blood loss slowed.

Unfortunately, she’d already lost about a litre of blood, and the legs weren’t clotting “I- I have a DNR.” She coughed out “I don’t want you to save my life, I just want you to find my mom. I need to say goodbye.” Her mom began sprinting up, kneeling next to her dying daughter. They said their goodbyes, and the daughter passed away. I hugged the woman while she sobbed into my shoulder. “Do you have any other family? Anyone you can see? Who can help you?” I ask gently. “M-my s-son. He-he’s in room 2-229.” She stuttered, hyperventilating. I motioned for Steve to take her to him. They walked off, leaving me with Bucky alone. “Listen, phoenix, I’m sor-“ “we need to get her body to the coroner. Think you can handle that? I’ll send someone out.” I say, walking away “stop! Phe, please. I need to tel-“ I cut him off again. “We’ll talk later! For now, I have a job to do, and so do you barnes.” I didn’t even stop to look back.

I meant what I said, about having a job to do. The talking however, not so much. I planned on avoiding him from now on. Well that wouldn’t end up working out. I got back to the ER and went to check the board, only to not find my name. “Where’s my patient list?” I ask the head nurse. A voice from behind answers “you’re going home, dr.stark.” My boss told me “go home, rest, and come in next Tuesday. You’re not on call anymore, you need a break.” I was going to protest, but my body had other plans. I let out a weak “okay” before heading out the door to my car.

I cried the whole way home. I felt pathetic, but I just lost another patient, Bucky is an avenger, and I’m so tired I’d rather sleep than do anything else. But I couldn’t. I had stuff I needed to take care of first. I had to talk to Bucky, I told myself I wouldn’t, but even I knew that wasn’t gonna happen. I pulled into my driveway, seeing him already standing on my porch. I hit the steering wheel, and let out a defeated cry. I couldn’t get five seconds to decompress.

i stepped out of my car, and Bucky headed straight for me. “Phe, we need to talk. About yesterday, about last night, about today, and about everything. Please.” I walked past him, on the verge of tears again. He trailed me so close, I could smell his cologne. “Phoenix! Please!” He said, trying to get ahead of me, I just walked around him and pulled him with me when he tried to stop me. “If you wanna talk, we’re talking on my terms. I’m exhausted, frustrated, confused, angry, and so much more. Come inside and we can talk there.” We walked into my house and went upstairs “stay down here please. I need a minute.” While I was upstairs, I changed out of my scrubs, washed my face, and took a hydroxyzine.

I lay on the floor of my room for a few minutes, trying to destress. I walked downstairs after a few minutes, bucky was sitting at the table, wringing his hands. I sat across from him. “Talk. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kick you out of my house right now.” I said refusing to make eye contact. “Phoenix, I’m sorry. I should’ve been up front about who I am, I just sort of hoped you either knew and didn’t care, or you wouldn’t find out. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m sorry” he said somberly. He was still in the suit from earlier. After a moment of silence he reached for my hand.

I let him take it. “I understand why you’re afraid. If you need me to go, I will. But if I can do anything to earn back your trust, I’ll do it.” I scoffed at that “what trust?! You watching me while I shower? Hiding the fact you’re a damn avenger? And oh, I don’t know, the fact you have a metal arm?!” I shouted at him. I yanked my hand from his grip. He gave me a look similar to a kicked puppy. “I forgive you for being a creep, and you didn’t even give me the damn decency to tell me who you are!? I mean, weve been “friends” (air quotes) for a few weeks. You slept in my bed, and yet you didn’t think that maybe, just maybe, the fact you are a damn super soldier, have a metal arm, or the fact that- I don’t know.

I shouldn’t need to give you more examples. Hell, I don’t even need to explain myself to you! I don’t know why I am.” I say, getting up from my seat and walking to the kitchen. “ya know, I thought you were this great – albiet secretive – guy. Well, I come to find out you get your rocks off watching women bathe. And- DAMN IT!” I yell that last part, accidentally slicing my hand open. “And I just can catch a single fucking break.” I finish, reaching for the paper towels. Bucky starts to walk over to me, but stops himself. I wrap the cut with a damp paper towel. It’s not too deep so just my makeshift bandage would be enough.

I start breaking down, tears streaming down my face- not from the pain, but from the stress. Bucky crossed the room quickly, wrapping his arms around me firmly. His touch sent shockwaves through my body, straight to my core. He was not expecting me to hug back, but also not letting me escape his embrace. I tensed up for a moment, but then relaxed in his arms, some of the stress melting away. My arms were pinned to my chest, so I just let him hold me, resting my forehead on his chest. “I’m sorry phe. I never meant to hurt you. and I’m so sorry that I did.” He said sincerely. I nuzzled my head into his chest, letting out a sob. He began petting my hair “I know, I know sweetheart.” He said comfortingly. He pulled me back by my arms “are you okay phoenix? I’m sorry for calling you sweetheart.”

I smiled up at him “I didn’t mind buck.” I smiled at him, a mischievous look in my eye. He looked down at me skeptically, so I went on “ya know, I meant what I said last night, and I really appreciate you not doing anything while I was intoxicated, but I’m not now…” I look at him with a glint in my eyes. He hesitantly reached for the sides of my face, gently tilting my head up, and placed his lips against mine. My eyes fluttered closed, savoring the kiss. He pulled away after a moment, attempting to read my reaction. In response to this, I threaded my hands through his hair, kissing him passionately.

He kissed back hungrily, his hands beginning to roam my body. He gripped my ass, making me gasp. He took advantage of that and slid his tongue into my mouth. He broke the kiss for just a moment to tell me “jump.” And continued kissing me. I hesitated, breaking away to ask “what? Are you sur-“ he slapped my ass “jump.” And for a moment, he looked concerned “was that okay?” I nodded, enjoying the slight pain. I jumped up and he caught me, wrapping my legs around him. I put my arms around his neck, stabilizing myself. He smiled up at me and carried me up the stairs easily, his hands gripping my thighs. He kicked my bedroom door open, shutting it behind us. He did all this while kissing me. he slowly laid me down on my bed, climbing over me. He moved me up to the pillows, his lips moving to my neck. He quickly found the spot that, I didn’t even know existed. I let out a moan when he sucked on the delicate skin. He pulled on the hem of my shirt, so I put my arms up, letting him take it off. I, in turn, did the same with his, in the moment he and I were separated, I admired his body, running my hands up his chest and down his arms- both of them. I looked up at him with nothing but trust. He began to tug off my pants, leaving me in just my undergarments. He went to continue, but I stopped him “buck, wait. Please” he looked at me worriedly

Bucky POV (short)

My heart dropped when she told me to stop. I had thought she was enjoying herself. I immediately felt like shit for misreading the situation.

My POV

“Buck, wait. Please.” He looked at me worriedly. “I-I’ve never done this before…” I said, unable to look him in the eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Do you want me to stop?” My eyes got wide “no! No, just please be gentle. I heard it hurts really bad, but I need you Bucky.” I say. “I’ll take care of you honey, I’ll make you feel good. Do you trust me?” I nodded, and he went to work removing my bra.

Bucky POV (short)

She’s a virgin. I thought she was going to tell me to stop, but she wants me to take her virginity. I was gonna make damn sure her first time was incredible, but that also meant that I need to hold back a bit. I couldn’t wait to have her begging for my cock, but that would have to wait.

My POV

He went to work removing my bra, massaging my breasts in a way I’d never done before. It felt amazing. He twisted one of my nipples, watching my face contort in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He took my other one into his mouth, sucking the sensitive nub. I moaned out, I was already so deep in pleasure and he’d hardly done anything. He trailed kisses down my abdomen, pulling my panties off when he got to my core. I shivered when the cold air hit my wet pussy. He kissed my clit, making me jump “wha-what are you doing?!” I asked, insanely confused “I’m gonna use my mouth sweetheart. Is that okay?” I nodded “do you trust me?” I nodded again. He ran his tongue up my clit, making me moan. He groaned at the taste of my arousal. He circled his tongue around my clit, and gently suckled on it. I threw my head back and moaned. I had never even imagined anything feeling this good. I felt the familiar burning sensation through my body and moaned out something close to “imgunnacum-“ then the best orgasm of my life washed over my body.

My legs were trembling, Bucky holding them in place. He didn’t stop. He kept eating me out like I was his last meal. I was shaking from the overstimulation, but he kept going. He kept going until I came again. After, he moved down to my entrance, and dipped his tongue inside of me. This I was not expecting. I clenched around his tongue, making him moan. He removed his mouth and replaced it with one of his fingers, gently pushing it inside of me. He mumbled something like “fuck you’re so damn tight.” I gasped at the intrusion, his fingers were longer than mine, and about twice as thick. He didn’t move it though, which surprised me “wha-“ he cut me off “let me know when you’re ready for me to move, baby”. I waited for a moment, and the sting gradually went down. “O-okay” I said, he slowly started pumping his finger, curling it slightly to caress the soft spot inside of me, yet another thing I didn’t know about.

I mewled at the sensation, swearing I was seeing stars. “Ohgod Bucky!” He smirked up at me, his eyes meeting mine “you like that baby? Hm?” I nodded. He continued pleasuring me, slowly adding another finger, stretching me out even more. Tears pricked at my eyes, it kinda hurt to be stretched like this. Noticing this, he went to work again with his mouth, giving kitten licks to my clit, taking it in his mouth and sucking. I threw my head back, distracted from the pain. I whined out his name as I came undone a third time “that’s it baby, let go for me.” He murmured. He climbed up by body, hesitantly putting his fingers to my mouth. I opened my mouth, sucking his fingers clean. “There you go, that’s my good girl.” I moaned, relishing the praise.

He stripped off his boxers, pumping himself a few times, spreading precum over the head of his dick. He’s even bigger than I thought. My eyes widened with anxiety. He looked at me, worry and anticipation laced his features. “Are you ready honey? This might hurt. Are you sure you want to do this? I will NOT be upset if you decide not to.” I looked at him “get inside me Bucky- just be careful please. I’m kinda scared.” He lined himself up with my entrance. Looking into my eyes, he slowly pressed the tip in, stretching me out. I gasped out at the sensation, making him stop. “You okay sweetheart?” I nodded and he continued easing in. I’ll be honest, it stung like hell. But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Getting to share this moment with him?incredible. I had my eyes screwed shut from the pain “look at me honey” I opened my eyes, wincing. He was only about four inches in at this point. With my silent consent, he continued. My eyes began to fill with tears as he tore my hymen.

He bent down and kissed the tears on my cheeks. This small romantic gesture filled my heart. It took a few more minutes before he was fully inside of me. He laid against my body, giving me time to adjust. Slowly, the pain began to melt into pleasure, the lines between the two blurring. I rocked my hips experimentally, moaning at the instant pleasure it gave me. I felt so incredibly full. He got back up “how do you feel honey?” He asked gruffly, clearly restraining himself “so… so full…” I whined. “Am I okay to move?”

I rocked my hips again, moaning even louder than before. “Yes” with that he pulled almost all the way out of me, and slowly thrust back in. I was being so loud I would’ve been worried about my neighbors hearing, except of course, one was deaf and the other was balls deep inside of me right now. He continued this pace, making out with me, kissing me sweetly. I broke away from him “buck- ah! Pl-please go- ohmygod! Fas-ter” I said, struggling to speak between moaning and panting. He happily obliged, moving his hips a little faster. He was stabilizing himself with his arms above my head.

I reached up for his left arm-the metal one- and placed it against my throat. His eyes got wide, and he squeezed my throat, testing my reaction. I loved the sensation it gave me, my moans growing louder and more frequent. He sped his pace even more, making me see stars. He reached his other hand down and began rubbing my clit. I came around his cock, his face buried in the crook of my neck. He was clearly close too, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and erratic. “Ohhfuck baby… god I’m Gonna cum. Where do you want me to-“ I cut him off, tugging on his hair “cum inside of me Bucky.” He hesitated for a moment, but then started thrusting harder and faster. He leaned down and kissed me, sweet and soft, while he came inside of me. I could feel his warm cum filling my pussy and leaking out. He continued thrusting slowly, riding out his orgasm. His body collapsed on top of mine, still buried deep inside me, the white fluid dripping out of my cunt.

“That was-“ I started, cutting myself off “wow.” Bucky finished. He rolled over, letting himself slide out of me, and gently picked me up, carrying me to the bathroom. He set me down on the counter, and grabbed a small towel, running it under warm water. He cleaned me up, then himself. He ran some warm water in my large bathtub, and set me in it. I was pretty much dazed and in shock over what just happened. “Sweetheart?” Bucky said, trying to snap me out of my daze. I hummed in response “do you have bubbles?” He blushed, seeing the fucked out expression on my face. “Ye-yeah, top shelf. I motioned for it. He dropped some in, causing the water to smell of lavender and bubble up. He slid in next to me, pulling me flush against his chest. “Are you okay, honey?” tilting my head up to meet his eyes, “perfect..” I mumbled. I snuggled closer to him, and began dozing off, consumed by the warmth of him, and the water while he started rubbing my back.

PLEASE let me know how this was!! Didn’t proofread so it might be terrible

[goddessrisen]

         though   the   divine   phoenix   could   never   wholly   forget   the   celestial   palace,   forever   homesick   for   a   place   she'd   never   return   to,   the   night   court   offered   a   much-needed   reprieve.   more   specifically,   the   court   of   dreams.   velaris   was   so   similar   to   her   abandoned   palace   that   she'd   oft   spend   hours   exploring   the   sprawling   city   hidden   from   the   world.   even   now,   some   millennia   later,   the   quiet   awe   it   first   inspired   when   first   created   never   fully   left.   this   little   piece   of   home,   a   gift,   softened   the   ancient   fae's   heart,   forever   aligning   her   with   the   court. 

         hyeon's   gaze   turned   from   the   sky,   slowly   blinking   as   she   came  ��back   to   herself.   the   soft   glow   of   ever-faithful   moon   cast   her   ethereal   visage   in   divine   light,   softening   harsh   edges.   a   gentle   reminder   that   though   she'd   fallen     &&     been   made   again,   she   was   never   truly   alone.   a   quiet,   self-deprecating   scoff   fell   past   parted   lips   at   her   own   melancholy.   a   slender   hand   swiped   over   her   face,   fingers   massaging   the   bridge   of   her   nose.

         slippered   feet   whispered   against   marble   stone,   delicately   side-stepping   any   who   crossed   into   her   path.   though   brilliant   wings   lay   flat   against   her   slender   body,   they   were   still   a   beacon   of   who   she   was.   molten   amber   casually   roamed   over   passing   faces,   silken   flesh   quirked   into   a   soft   smile   as   she   greeted   known   fae,   though   her   pace   never   faltered.   a   self-appointed   task   she   would   not   stray   from. 

         subtle,   muffled   music   alerted   hyeon   that   she'd   arrived   far   sooner   than   she'd   expected.   a   small,   genuine   smile   pulled   at   lush   flesh,   the   faint   glow   of   cassiopeia's   sign   a   sight   for   sore   eyes.   the   celestial   being   slipped   through   the   front   door,   long   legs   automatically   headed   toward   the   bar.   it   had   been   far   too   long   since   she'd   been   allowed   to   relax     &&     indulge.

             ❝     &&       how   fares   thee,   darling     ??       ‘tis   been   a   while   since   i’ve   the   chance   to   visit.       ❞     hyeon's   predatory,   ever-watchful   gaze   turned   toward   the   other,   lips   quirked   into   a   teasing   smile   as   her   head   tilted   to   the   side.

@casiopiea / x

[count-alucard-tepes]

Imagine op hotties with a S/O who is a ballerina or was a ballerina but still practices their routines. I love ballet.🩰

Kizaru ✨

He watched his S/O practice and doesn’t get enough of how amazing they are. He always praises them for the grace.

Akainu🌋

He thinks it’s cute and massages his S/O’s feet after they train because he knows how it can be taxing on the body.

Ryokugyu 🌱

He thinks that his S/O is really talented and praises them for it. He helps them stretch and then just watches them practice.

Fujitora 🐅

He doesn’t know much about ballet but he knows that his S/O is passionate about it so he encourages them to continue what they love.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

He would take his S/O to ballet performances all over the world so that they could enjoy these performances with him.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩

He would make sure their dance studio at the palace was designed to their liking so that they always have a special place for themselves.

Benn Beckman 🔫

He does appreciate the grace of his S/O and compliments them even after they have children that they never lost their figure.

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡

He could watch his S/O all day and night practicing or just prancing around in their outfit, he thinks they’re so adorable. (Also I need to see Kata in a ballet outfit, he’s so cute)

Killer🔪

He tries to practice with his S/O as he is super light on his feet and getting tips from his S/O makes him a quicker fighter. So he is all for his S/O continuing their favorite hobby/sport/art.

Kaido🐉

He is very supportive in what ever his S/O is interested in even though he does not particularly like it. He does admire his S/O being such a beautiful dancer though.

King 👑

He make sure when ever he is traveling and find little ballet trinkets, he would get it for his S/O as he knows it wold make them happy.

Queen👑

He incorporates in his rap songs about his S/O being a ballerina and how amazing they are. He will not stop praising them and even has them choreographer.

Izou🔫🔫

He loves to learn a new dance style so he would share his knowledge of dance and practices with his S/O too.

Dragon D Monkey 🐉🐒

He doesn’t know much about ballet until he met his S/O and he began to appreciate it even more. He likes to watch his S/O dance too.

Oven Charlotte 🍞

He doesn’t know much about ballet but he is very supportive of his S/O and encourages them to teach his younger siblings as they’re so good at it.

Buggy🤡

He is in awe of his S/O when they first show him they knew ballet and from them he always asked his S/O to pursue their hobby and blushes as he watches them dance.

Marco the Phoenix 🦅

He often reads about ballet since he met his S/O and even attended a performance with his S/O, the look of happiness on his S/O face was priceless to him.

[thesakuragarnet]

Forever Valentine (A PHOENIX Oneshot) (February 14, 2127)

Summary: Married Pros Third-Degree and Hawks celebrate Valentines' Day with a spa trip and end it with a steamy session.

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: Hero!Dabi, DabiHawks, swearing, smut, married DabiHawks, DabiHawks in love, making out, alternate universe, massages, bathing/washing, romance, domestic fluff,

Word Count: 2,263 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: explicit s3xual content, gay s3x, a n a l s3x, bl0wjobs, handj0bs, multiple 0rga$ms, multiple rounds, over$timulation, slight edgeplay, slight 0rgasm denial, shower s3x, switch DabiHawks, b0ttom Dabi, top Hawks, facef*cking, tipsy s3x

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time since they’d been married, Pro Heroes Third-Degree and Hawks weren’t working on Valentines’ Day. As per usual, Keigo wakes up first in their king-sized bed on the top floor of the PHOENIX Agency, opening his eyes to see his husband blissfully asleep. Toya’s a violent sleeper, so half a leg hangs off the bed while the rest of his limbs are splayed out randomly, his mouth hanging agape as he softly snores. Keigo grins as he sits up, stretching his wings out and flexing them as he looks out the window, seeing the sunrise start to graze the skyline. He slips out of bed, quiet as a mouse, and Toya is none the wiser, deep in dreams. Keigo walks off into the bathroom, turning on the sink and brushing his teeth as the growing sunlight drips into their bedroom. The rays reach Toya’s closed eyelids, and he promptly stirs, groaning as he lifts his head from the pillow.

“Morning,” Keigo calls, his voice muffled from the toothbrush in his mouth. Toya mumbles something unintelligible before letting his face fall right back into the pillow. He’s utterly exhausted from their shift last night; he, Hawks, and Mirko had managed to seize one of the smaller Trigger drug rings, and Toya was sure he’d pulled a few muscles fighting with some of the yakuza lackeys. Keigo strolls out of the bathroom, walking over to the closet and pulling on one of his black compression shirts and a pair of khakis.

“C’mon, starboy. Get up,” Keigo sighs as he pulls on his combat boots, but Toya just grumbles into the silk pillowcase. The winged Pro sits down on the bed, ruffling his husband’s messy white hair. 

“I booked us a spa trip. We don’t wanna be late,” Keigo sings sweetly, and, this time Toya’s more responsive. 

“Massages?” He slurs, turning on his side to look into his lover’s gorgeous golden eyes. 

“Massages,” Keigo grins. 

“Oh thank fuck. I feel like shit after last night,” Toya huffs, wincing as he pushes himself up and practically rolls out of bed.

“Rue is spending the night with Ryuko tonight, so it’ll just be us,” Keigo yawns, preening his feathers with his fingernails as Toya gets ready in the bathroom. 

“And Moe,” Toya mutters, “I told her to take the day off, but, knowing her, she’ll probably spend all day getting the next few weeks’ paperwork done.”

“There’s a reason Burnin’s been your top sidekick since she got here,” Keigo points out before Toya emerges from the bathroom in his blue hoodie and black sweatpants. 

“You ready?” Toya manages a sleepy smile, and Keigo grabs his hand before kissing him softly on the cheek. 

“Happy Valentines’ Day,” Keigo hums, and Toya feels warmth blooming in his chest. 

“Happy Valentines’, Kei,” Toya whispers before slipping his arm around Keigo’s waist and pulling him close. 

…

…

...

...

“That was exactly what I needed,” Toya sighs as he parks his Corvette in front of the PHOENIX agency, body loose and fully relaxed for the first time in months. 

“Those face masks were something else, man,” Keigo laughs to himself, “My skin feels all tingly.”

Toya tousles Keigo’s hair as the two walk through the automatic double doors and strut toward the elevator. Both Toya and Keigo’s phones ding simultaneously, and Toya pulls out his phone to see that Rue sent a picture in their group chat of an enormous bouquet of roses.

Mirko: My gf wins V day losers <3

“Ryu outdid herself this year,” Toya snickers as the elevator reaches their Penthouse floor. The doors open, and Keigo’s eyes widen. 

“Moe wanted to know how she could help with today. So…she came up with this for us,” Toya beams, clearly impressed by his top sidekick’s handiwork. The hallway lights are dimmed, and rose petals litter the foyer leading into their dining room. The two lovebirds follow the petals until they see the dining room table; it’s candlelit with two bottles of pink wine at each end of the table, along with two plates of steaming alfredo. 

“We need to give her a raise,” Keigo chuckles as the two sit down for dinner. Toya pours both of them a full glass of wine and raises his glass.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers….to the love of my life,” Keigo adds with a sly smile before gulping down the sweet wine. 

“Love of my life. And a much-needed day of unwinding,” Toya echoes before chugging down the full glass in one go and promptly pouring himself another.

“You know you’re fucking gorgeous,” Keigo croons, eyes growing heavy-lidded as he looks his husband up and down. 

“I’m literally just in a hoodie,” Toya scoffs, sipping the wine and licking it from his lips. 

“You’re beautiful no matter what, baby,” Keigo winks, and Toya rolls his eyes.

…

…

…

…

Toya and Keigo are lost in tipsy, hiccupping giggles and overwhelming, desperate kisses as they stumble into their bathroom. Toya kicks the door shut with his foot as his hands grasp at the hem of his husband’s shirt, fingers rubbing over his washboard abs. Keigo groans softly, reaching and untying Toya’s sweatpants. In a rush of limbs and heavy breaths, they both strip down to nothing, and one of Keigo’s feathers turns on the hot water. Steam fogs up the mirrors, and they step into the shower. Keigo roughly puts his hands on Toya’s shoulders, shoving him against the damp tile wall and kissing him with an intensity that makes Toya moan into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Toya gasps as Keigo drags his lips to his neck, softly biting into the tender flesh and dragging his tongue along his scarred shoulder. Toya runs his fingers through Keigo’s feathers, sending shivers down the winged Pro’s spine and making his eyelids flutter. Slowly, Keigo gets on his knees, dragging his lips down Toya’s body until he’s level with Toya’s half-hard cock. He presses a slutty kiss to his leaking tip, staring up at him with doe eyes that make Toya shudder.

“ Kei ~,” Toya gasps, leaning his head back o nto the tile and letting his fingers run through Keigo’s damp blonde locks as he slowly takes him into his mouth. The air is thick with the scent of sex and overwhelming intimacy as Toya stares down at his lover, watching his cock disappear as Keigo’s cheeks hollow out. Keigo groans around his lover’s dick, tongue pressing flat against the shaft as he sucks, bobbing his head and reaching up to grip his ass. Toya moans, breath coming out hot and heavy as he slowly rolls his hips, fucking Keigo’s throat. He’s so obsessed with the way Keigo tends to him, making him feel so so fucking good and so so fucking loved. Keigo’s fingernails dig into the flesh on Toya’s thighs, pulling his lips free from Toya’s dick with a slick popping noise before he wraps a hand around it, firmly jerking him off as he catches his breath. 

“Is it feeling good for you?” Keigo huffs, licking Toya’s tip and making him whimper. 

“ Fuck yes ,” Toya murmurs, words rolling off his tongue like a gushing waterfall as his fingers grasp at Keigo’s hair, subtly begging for him to continue. 

“Then who am I to deny you,” Keigo grins devilishly before deepthroating him in one go, making Toya groan and buck his hips. The way Keigo’s tongue swirls in just the right way, the way fresh tears well up in Keigo’s eyes from choking himself on his cock, the way his hands caress his thighs in such an intimate gesture…it’s all so fucking much all at once. Toya can barely handle it. 

“G-gonna come,” Toya stutters, feeling the familiar warmth of pleasure boil in the pit of his stomach. Keigo already knows he’s close by the way his cock twitches against his tongue, and he pulls him even closer. Toya’s hips rock into Keigo’s mouth, and, suddenly, the ecstasy shoots through his body all at once, making his toes curl and causing him to harshly grip Keigo’s scalp as he comes down Keigo’s throat. Keigo keeps sucking like his life depends on it, eagerly gulping down everything Toya has to give until he’s so spent that he’s shoving Keigo off him. He’s shuddering, and Keigo jumps up, desperately pressing his lips to Toya’s. The fiery Pro sucks on Keigo’s bottom lip, wrapping his arms around him and indulging in the feeling of the warm skin-to-skin contact. 

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” Keigo slurs into Toya’s ear, making lust stir once again in his gut. 

“Let’s finish up in here and then you can,” Toya chuckles breathlessly, hands teasing Keigo as he drags them down his body, stopping just above his erection. 

“Mmmmm…sounds good to me,” Keigo practically growls, lips curling into a lustful smile as he greedily bites into the side of Toya’s neck. He licks up the side of Toya’s jaw, and Toya reaches up to caress the side of Keigo’s face, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb along the supple flesh. 

“I love you, Kei,” Toya sighs, reaching for the body wash and pouring some into his hands. 

“I love you, too, starlight,” Keigo whispers lovingly, watching as Toya holds his soapy hands up, as if asking permission to wash Keigo. The winged Pro nods, squeezing some into his own hands as they massage each other. 

…

…

After sloppily drying off, the two manage to make it to the bed; for the most part, they’ve completely sobered up. Keigo playfully shoves Toya onto his back, his head hitting the silk pillow as he stares up at his husband. 

“I’m gonna make you see stars, darling,” Keigo whispers, pressing a deep kiss to Toya’s lips. Their tongues dance with one another, exploring mouths even though they've memorized each other's bodies long before. Toya’s arms drape around Keigo’s neck, locking him in as Keigo slips a lubed finger into his hole, gently kneading his insides and stretching him open. Toya’s mouth drops open as his eyebrows furrow and relax, the familiar sensations making him hard once again and filling his mind with pure desire. Despite being together for ten years, they still can’t ever get enough of each other, eyes locked and pupils blown out; their hearts are completely intertwined. 

“ God … ah ~” Toya gasps, cock twitching as Keigo slips in three more fingers, fucking him slowly and evenly. Keigo bends down and presses a kiss to Toya’s forehead, losing himself in the filthy whines bubbling up on Toya’s lips as he flexes his fingers against his prostate. The winged Pro’s feathers grab another bottle of the lube, squeezing it on his own cock as he pulls his fingers out, leaving Toya aching and empty. 

“Breathe,” Keigo huffs before slowly pressing into his husband, spreading his legs with calloused hands. Toya moans low and long as he feels Keigo stretching him open, heart thumping in his chest and shaking him to the very core. Toya can’t do anything but sigh, trying his best not to completely dissolve into a drooling mess as Keigo starts the slow, sensual rhythm. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo throughout their bedroom, peppered with Keigo’s heavy breathing and Toya’s wanton groans as he locks his ankles around Keigo’s waist. A feather wraps around Toya’s leaking cock, squeezing it just enough to make sure he won’t orgasm until Keigo allows it. 

“That’s it, baby. Lemme hear how good it feels. You’re doing so good, starboy,” Keigo pants, chest heaving with every breath as his feathers puff up. Toya whimpers pathetically, partially at the praise and at the edging. He craves the overwhelming release, he craves the sounds of Keigo’s cries when he comes, and he craves the feeling of being locked in his tender crimson embrace. Keigo starts rutting faster, changing the angle to continuously pound into his prostate, punching the air out of his lungs. Toya’s eyes well with tears as his emotions consume him, pleasure clouding his brain and smothering him. 

“So good, Kei- KEI -fuck-fuck me so good,” Toya stammers between drawling moans. Keigo’s wings flare out as he gasps suddenly, hips snapping against Toya’s ass at a haphazard pace until he cries out his lover’s name, coming his goddamn brains out and filling Toya up. Within seconds, the feather releases its vice grip on Toya’s cock, stroking him until he’s gushing white. Keigo leans forward, letting Toya scream into his neck until his orgasm subsides. They both go stiff, shoulders rising and falling with each breath as they hold each other, basking in the afterglow. 

“Fuck,” Toya whispers, lips curling into a relieved smile as his brain fogs.

“That good?” Keigo chuckles with a shit-eating grin, and Toya just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Shut up,” He sighs, feeling his cheeks heat up with a soft blush as Keigo’s feathers bring in a warm wet rag, cleaning the come off of the both of them as they gently separate. 

“You’re gonna have a limp tomorrow,” Keigo winks, and Toya punches him lightly in the chest, making him cough. Keigo settles down into the bed, pulling the covers up over both of them and letting Toya snuggle up, resting his head on his chest. 

“I’m gonna get you back, you bastard,” Toya snickers, pressing his lips to his lover’s sun-kissed skin. Keigo just yawns and shakes his head. 

“Goodnight, Toya,” He huffs, closing his eyes as he buries his face into the top of Toya’s head. 

“Night, Kei,” Toya mumbles, letting himself fall into a deep slumber.