#You can say this is after she becomes his handler if you want

[barrysbaby]

i can't go on like this. / will being emo as usual

PROMPTS FOR DEEP CONVERSATIONS

“Okay,” Moira says with a shrug of her shoulders. “So don’t. Go on a different way. Make a change. Back up. Take a left turn instead of right this time.”

It may sound like she’s joking, but she isn’t. Will can sit here and mope about how awful everything is, how unfair and difficult (and he would be correct on all accounts), or he can do something about it. Or, better yet, he can mope and do something about it.

“You’re not stuck,” she says. “And even if you were, screw it. Unstuck yourself. So what if you tear a few limbs in the process? At least you can regrow them.” Then, in a much softer tone, she adds, “you’re not alone. You have Sherry… and you have me.”

@gviral

[5sospenguinqueen]

Overworked and Underpaid | Franco Colapinto x PR! Reader

Summary: When Logan leaves Williams, you’re assigned as Franco’s PR handler. Except nobody warned you that he hadn’t been trained yet 

Warnings: Fluff. Angst if you squint, Franco is sad at one point

Requested: No but the people did want Franco and PR

F1 Masterlist

The original title was going to be With A Yap Yap Here 

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williamsracing just posted

liked by alex_albon, f1 and others

williamsracing breaking news franco colapinto to race for the remainder of the season

13,893 comments

francolapinto i am very excited for this opportunity 

→ user1 he seems so polite, bless him

→ user2 don’t be fooled 

user3 praying for yn because she used to have the easiest driver to manage and now she has franco

→ user4 that’s if she gets assigned to him. she may not get to work with him

→ user3 why wouldn’t she???

→ user5 williams better not take away yn’s job and logan’s 

user6 has anyone heard from yn since the news dropped? her and logan were actual besties, not just work besties 

→ user7 she always talked about how much she loved working with him so she’s def gonna miss him

→ user8 what if she leaves with him???

→ user9 she didn’t even like the williams goodbye post. she’s pissed so it’s a real possibility 

yn_ln welcome to the team

→ user10 this was so dry for her

→ user11 i think she’s processing and doesn’t want to seem rude. give the girl a break

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williamsracing just posted

liked by liakblock, jv.f1 and others

williamsracing a day you’ll never forget. welcome to your first grand prix @/francolapinto

7,337 comments

user1 omg he’s such a cutie 

user2 his excitement all weekend has been so refreshing 

user3 chat, what’s your favourite thing about monza gp this year? and why is it yn chasing franco around the paddock with a look of exasperation the entire time? 

→ user4 she has been working overtime this weekend

→ user5 it’s the way sky sports always know to zoom in on her when franco is talking

user6 the fact that we haven’t even had the race yet and yn has had to cut two interviews short and say many times “he didn’t mean that” 

francolapinto today will definitely be going on my list of top 3 unforgettable first times

→ user7 omg can he say that?

→ user8 i wanna know what the 2nd thing is?? 

→ yn_ln @/williamsracing i need a raise

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yn_ln just posted

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant and others

yn_ln hello cota. a weekend for cowboy hats, cheerleaders and my attempt to replace williams’ photographer

5,099 comments

alex_albon you’ve never taken a good photo of me

→ francolapinto because she’s not your media manager

user9 chat, are they healing? are they becoming friends?

→ user10 i actually saw her smile at him today after weeks of her scowling at him! 

williamsracing all our cota favourites rolled into one 

user11 okay but she took the most boyfriend coded picture of him

williamsphotographer gonna put me out of a job. i don’t think i’ve ever taken a photo that good before

→ yn_ln what can i say? i excel at everything

user12 why did no one tell me franco’s pr handler was so cute?

user13 i could see her and franco together

user14 can’t believe you’re betraying logan so easily 

user15 the fact that logan liked this, which means he’s seen her so quickly forget about him 

user16 you used to pretend to be logan’s friend and now you’ve so easily run off with his replacement? 

(comments have been turned off)

yn_ln posted a new story

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yn_ln just posted

liked by lilymhe, logansargeant and others

yn_ln enjoying a break from work-mandated media and yapping drivers by posting vacation pics 

6,633 comments

francolapinto i thought you found my yapping fun 😔

→ yn_ln uh, since when?

→ francolapinto i have proof! 

→ yn_ln don’t you dare

→ user1 i have to admit, i am loving their banter more than yn glaring at him

user2 wait, she has a boyfriend? there go my franco/yn dreams

→ user3 unless, hear me out. the guy is franco

→ user4 nurse, she escaped again

williamsracing but we miss you?

→ yn_ln you’re the reason i needed a break

→ williamsracing i thought that was franco’s fault? 

→ yn_ln admin, this wouldn’t be a pr approved comment

user5 why do they hide yn behind franco because she is stunning

user6 tbf, if i had to look at yn all day, i’d forget all social filters

→ user7 somebody free my man franco. he’s being blamed for his words when it’s yn’s fault for being so stunning liked by franco_colapinto

→ user7 omg guys, franco liked my comment

francolapinto just posted

liked by williamsracing, charles_leclerc and others

francolapinto pr so good that we had to get hr involved

10,340 comments

yn_ln franco! these are not the photos we agreed upon! 

→ francolapinto it’s not my fault your ass is irresistible 

→ yn_ln now my ass is off limits. james just messaged me to say we have to sit through yet another pr/hr meeting 

user8 okay but these photos are kinda hot 

logansargeant my favourite pr nightmare couple 

→ yn_ln i’m not the nightmare! i’m the pr

→ francolapinto i’m the nightmare :)

→ user9 i hope you bitches that sent hate to yn for being franco’s friend feel bad now because logan has clearly supported this from day 1

user10 i knew boyfriend franco would provide us with good content and i was right

→ user11 these the kind of pics we need the others to post

→ user12 yes! like show some appreciation for the woman hotter than you that gave you a chance 

williamsracing we’re confused. who are we supposed to report franco to now for pr violations? 

→ alex_albon i tried to complain about him twerking in the garage yesterday and she just smiled dopily at his name

→ yn_ln i did not! i am a sensible girl

→ francolapinto haha sensible. you looooove me

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requests open. you can find who i write for on my masterlist

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[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Three

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series Masterlist

It all happened so fast. Max grabbed a hold of Charles and pulled him away from you, as your handler grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you away. A good thing, too. Your teeth were bared at him, ready to bite down on any inch of skin you could reach.

The muzzle was fastened over your mouth, keeping every body else safe from you. "Huh," Charles said as he struggled out of Max's grip. He looked at you, at the way your expression changed the minute the muzzle was back over your face. Eyes wide, expression guilty as you stared at him.

I'm sorry, you wanted to choke out. But you couldn't. Instead a whimper left your lips as you tried to beg for some sort of forgiveness. But Max (Max fucking Verstappen! But you could freak out about that later) stepped between you. The look he gave you was enough to shut you up.

"Come on," said your handler as she pushed you through the garage. You couldn't stop yourself from looking guilty as engineers and mechanics stared at you. They'd seen what had just happened, there was no doubt in your mind. Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to look any of them in the mind.

There was your car, your F1 car. Your status as reserve driver had been kept quiet, your seat fitted and the car set up to your liking. Your number sat on the car, number fifty-three. It was real. It was really, really real.

They were still watching you. They watched as you touched the numbers on your car, as you climbed your way inside of it and sat in your seat.

"How does it feel?" Your handler asked, leaning over the halo.

You nodded as you looked up at her. Good. It felt good. It felt right. As soon as this part of your life was over, you could finally be done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Max pushed Charles through the garage. Through the garage and out the other side. Your focus fell back onto the steering wheel in front of you and you mimicked a lap around the circuit.

You didn't know that Max was pushing Charles into his drivers room. You didn't know just how angry he was with Charles. But you did hear as Max slammed the door shut.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Max roared, his expression furious.

Charles didn't cower at his anger. They were long past the days where Max's wrath would have his retreating to safety. "You saw her, right?" He asked and glanced at the door. "You saw how much she needs me."

"Needs you? Charlie, she went to attack you! She doesn't need you."

But Charles shook his head. "She needs me in the way you needed me, Max. She's what you would have become if you didn't let me in."

"She's dangerous."

Charles's hands were on his cheeks, holding his face. "So were you." He didn't let Max drop his chin to his chest and kissed him slowly. "What if I can help her in the way I helped you? Shouldn't I try?"

Max placed his hands over Charles's. His cold hands, cold from the can of Red Bull he had finished before he marched over, against Charles's warmer ones. "Not if it puts you in danger," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "Charles, I..."

But he couldn't say it.

"Come on," Charles said and let his hands slip away from Charles's face. "I can't top your speed in practice if you're sulking in here," he whispered and kissed Max once more.

As they walked back through the garage (Max continuing on to the Red Bull garage), there you were. Your helmet, Ferrari red and covered in sponsors, nothing personal about it, sat on your head. Acting as a muzzle, Charles realised when he looked at you.

His leg jolted, but he stopped himself from walking over to you. No, not yet. Not after what had just happened. He gave you a smile and you flipped up the visor, letting him see your eyes.

Charles got himself ready to climb into the car. All the time he wasn't wearing his helmet, he was looking at you, watching you. You, in your fireproofs, with your overalls around your hips. It suited you, everything but the helmet. The helmet looked too corporate.

You needed something personal, a design all your own.

"Tell me how she does," Charles said to Bryan before he pulled his helmet over his head.

Bryan passed him his gloves. "You worry about your own drive, okay?" He said and Charles focused his eyes forward.

Formula One was nothing like Formula Two. Everybody on the grid had forgotten it, even if they had all been in the series at some point. Most before it was called Formula Two, back when it was GP2.

There had been little preparation for your transition into Formula One. It wasn't supposed to happen yet, you were supposed to have more time. But then Carlos went and broke his damn leg and here you were.

If only he wasn't human, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation.

Your first lap was, well, terrifying. More than once you wanted to stop the car, jump out and dry heave onto the gravel. Nothing would come up, that you knew. But you kept going, keeping out of the way when the McLaren's came past.

First practice isn't about being the fastest, you told yourself.

"Next lap go," your engineer said, as if you were a dog he had taught a trick to. You gritted your teeth as you took the last corner. And then, you went for it.

It wasn't about topping the times, about being the fastest on track. It wouldn't be for you this weekend, anyway. This weekend was about getting a feel for the car you'd spend the next few weeks in. It was about bringing the car back to the garage in one piece. You didn't need to worry about scoring points or helping the team in the constructors, not this week.

But that was all you were thinking about.

Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points.

The lap felt good. Not fast, but good. But that wasn't enough, not for you. Your engineer said something, something that was met with a snarl as you went again.

"Come into the pits on this lap!" Your engineer was shouting. "Box fucking box!"

Box box. You knew that phrase, even when you weren't thinking right. But the lap was good. You couldn't abandon it, not now. "Box box, beastie."

Slamming on the brakes, you swerved into the pitlane. A dangerous move, one that would definitely see you penalised. You pitted and the car was pushed back into the garage.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Your engineer roared as he marched over to you. He gripped the halo are he stared down at you.

You were still, chest heaving as you waited to be told what to do. Waiting for your handler to come over and give you instructions. Eyes set forward, watching as Charles pulled into the pit. He wasn't there for very long, a minute at most, before he was making his way back onto the track.

"Beastie," your handler said, grabbing your attention. You looked up. Well, looked up as much as you could in the car. "Listen to your engineer. No more driving like that, okay?"

She said it so gently that you found yourself attempting to nod. Just wanting to make her happy, to make her proud of you. Her hand was suddenly on top of your helmet. "You know what happens if you disobey."

Your eyes were still focused forward and you nodded again. You weren't going to disobey again. You wouldn't dare.

When she patted your helmet, you shut your eyes. That was close to what would happen, close enough to have you moving away.

"Get back out there," she said and moved away from you. You drove out of the garage, down the pitlane and out onto the track.

You did what your engineer told you. Did a push lap when you were told and cooled down when you had to. Of course, you didn't see the wave Charles gave you when you went past, couldn't hear as he asked about you on the radio.

"How is she doing?" He asked Bryan.

"She's doing good, Charles, but concentrate on your own drive, please."

You were doing good, that was all Charles needed to know.

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[coryosbaby]

—Envy

synopsis: your jealousy gets the best of you.

♡ content warning . Mentions of murder, possessiveness, oral, cum play, plinth! reader

“I want to know why you did it.”

Your boyfriend’s voice rings out through your shared room in the capital, an octave lower and in a teasing lilt— maybe not a tone that a normal person who’s discussing murder should have, but nothing about your or Coriolanus’ relationship can be defined as normal.

You know the answer to Coriolanus’ question, though you don’t want to say it. A pout glazes your plump glossed lips as you think back to the scene that has started this conversation.

—

You remember Clemensia’s stupid ponytail, her stupid face, and the way her stupid sharp nails dug into Coriolanus’ shoulder the day before. She was asking to be in that room with you the next day— literally.

It was a class project. One that was for advanced students only, a one-by-one sort of assignment. You were Dr. Gaul’s personal assistant, the youngest ever— although, partner seemed to describe your dynamic with her better. You and Dr. Gaul went way back, and she trusted you.

You and Clemensia were in that brightly lit room you were oh so familiar with. Papers and folders were strewn around a desk nearby— and you and her were both alone. The body of snakes swimming throughout the small pool in the middle of the room had been enticing to stick your hand into. You remember Clemensia’s surprised look of awe as she watched you take one of the snakes trustfully into your grasp. It dripped water but it was beautiful. Its fangs scraped against you, almost teasing. It wanted to stick its teeth into your skin— you knew it did. But you trusted the snakes, and they trusted you. They would not be eating their handler anytime soon.

But maybe they would be eating something else.

Clemensia crouched in your same position; you were on your knees, gently rubbing your cheek against the snake’s rainbow scales. It whispered to you, lulling with soft hisses.

“Would you like to hold it?” You had asked her. “They enjoy a good petting every now and again.”

Clemensia had chuckled nervously, and you could tell by her body language that she was on edge.

“Don’t be silly, [y/n] plinth,” she had answered bleakly. “That snake would surely kill me.”

You remember turning to her. You could remember her brows furrowing, the softness of her skin. Coriolanus liked nice skin.

“I know.” You had said, and the rest was a blur.

A restling of limbs, your hands gripping tightly in her hair. There was splashing, gurgling, snakes crowding the surface. Her whole body had become submerged in that pool, and then you remembered that you had forgot to feed the snakes that day.

—

Thinking about it now, maybe you were a bit dramatic. Coriolanus has made his love for you very clear. There was no reason for such atrocities because of a girl he wasn’t even dating. But they had grown too close, and it had scared you.

Not to mention her excessive gossip about your fashion choices, which really pissed you off. Coriolanus shouldn’t have become friends with her, anyway.

“I told you,” You groan, watching him take a seat across from you. His shirt buttons are undone, just how you like them. “ I didn’t do it. She slipped.”

He doesn’t reply, and you groan.

“Why are you acting as if you didn’t do the same exact thing to that boy from economics class a few months ago, Coryo?”

“He was a complete dick, [y/n]. And a pervert. That was different.”

“I’m sure it was.”

Although Coriolanus should be disturbed, or quite possibly angered with you, he isn’t. You two tell too many secrets to judge. He doesn’t exactly have room to tell you who you should and shouldn’t kill with his past history.

And even so, the boy doesn’t have any room to care for Clemensia’s passing. She isn’t you, so it doesn’t matter.

After a moment of silence, Coriolanus sighs heavily. His thighs spread, and he leans back in his chair.

“But why…” he starts quietly, contemplating, as if this is funny guessing game. “Aren’t you going to tell me why?”

He knows the reason. He’s not stupid, and never has been. But he loves to tease.

“No.”

“Mmm…”

He turns his head to the side. His blonde curls have grown back, and for that you are incredibly grateful because they’re messy and make him look even more attractive. His eyes catch sight of a framed picture beside your bed— you and him, sitting at a shared desk in class. You were smiling at the camera, your favorite outfit on, and Coriolanus was only looking at you.

Smirking, Coriolanus lifts himself up from his chair. Your brows furrow in confusion as he approaches you, his tall form almost intimidating. His smell invades your senses as he leans over your shoulder to whisper into your ear.

“Was it jealousy?”

His tone is dark, flirtatious, and his breath is hot on the shell of your ear. Heat creeps up your neck— no matter how many times he speaks to you in this low tone of voice, it never fails to make your shiver.

You chuckle, your thighs squeezing together when his fingers grip tightly onto your shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply. Your head turns to him, and he’s so close that you can feel his steady breathing. “Besides, I didn’t do it. Like I said— she slipped.”

“Liar.” He says punctually. His fingers grip your chin suddenly, and his grip is harsh. “You didn’t like me with her, did you?”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, and Coriolanus’ fingers stroke your shoulder softly.

“Did you think she was pretty?” You ask. The boy chuckles, slowly pressing a wet kiss to your jugular that makes something electric zigzag its way through your body.

“No. The only woman who’s pretty to me is you.”

That makes you let out a small sound, and Coriolanus’ body moves to the front of your chair. He falls to his knees, then, the candlelight near the both of you making him look ever so beautiful. His fingers ghost over your skirt, and you whine, squirming in your seat. He pinches the hem, and lifts up the cotton fabric over your thighs. Cute pink panties are shown to him, and he lets out a groan.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters. He leans in, his breath fanning over you, but he doesn’t get as close as you want. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Coryo,” you whine, bucking up your hips. “Please. Please eat my pussy.”

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and glazed over with lust.

“Kiss me.” He demands, and you have no choice but to obey. Your hands settle into his golden locks, pulling him up further on his knees so he can gain access to your plump, hot mouth. Your lips slot against his, and it isn’t long before his tongue is grazing the soft flesh. His teeth bite down, nibbling on your lips with ferocious hunger as his fingers dig crescent moons into your thighs. Pulling away, your hands rest on his shoulders. Coriolanus grabs one of them, pulling you so far down that your forehead touches his as he presses your palm against the bulge tight in his pants.

“Do you think Clemensia could make me feel this way, angel? Could make my cock so hard?” He says, and his breath is hot against your open mouth as he utters his next words. “I’m yours.”

You yank your hand away, pulling him into another hot and heated kiss. But not before he’s pulling himself away and sliding your panties down your legs, mouthing at your inner thighs again as your pussy is exposed to him. Coriolanus practically drools, spreading your thighs and shoving his tongue inside your tight, aching hole. His big hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. He drinks up your slick with vigor, moaning against your clit as he devours you. Your mouth drops open, whimpers spilling out of you.

“Coryo,” you cry. His tongue moves from your hole to your clit, and he wraps his lips around the swollen bud as your hips buck up into his face.

He hums, savoring the taste of your nectar and grinding his hardened cock into the open air. He slurps into your cunt with everything he has and when you cum around him he drinks up your spend, too. His cock is still aching when he’s done and when he pulls away and wipes his pretty mouth on the back of his sleeve your gesture for him to stand up.

He smiles, watching as you grab his hips and pull them towards your face. You undo his belt, watching the straining fabric as your mouth waters. You pull out his hardened cock, the tip flushed red and dripping precum, and press a light kiss to the tip. Coriolanus shutters, letting out a tiny breath of air as he watches you press kiss upon lipstick stained kiss to his thick length. After a moment he grabs your hair and gently pulls you back from his cock.

“No,” he murmurs, when you try to put your mouth back on it again. “This is about me now, not you. Now open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Brows furrowing while you try not to pout, you lean back and do as the man says. Your lashes flutter as you watch him tower over you, putting his legs on either side of the chair and holding himself up with one strong, muscle-ey arm. You let out a tiny whine in your throat as he holds his cock over your face and begins to stroke himself. You watch how swollen he is, how desperate he is to cum, the way his balls sit against his skin and look desperate to be emptied. He lets out small breathy moans as he rubs himself up and down, his head thrown back and his lip caught in between his teeth. What a beautiful sight.

He grunts when he looks down and sees drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth.

“Hungry for it, aren’t you?” He chastises. “I know. Poor little girl loves drinking up my cum. Don’t worry, baby, you’re gonna get some soon.”

Your head becomes fuzzy, your tongue reaching out to graze just a sliver of his cock. But he’s quick to use his length to slap your cheek, a warning growl sounding from his lips.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” He asks you. “Keep fucking still, and don’t touch me.”

You pout, your mouth closing in the process, and Coryo fumes. He grabs your chin, forcing your mouth back open grabbing your tongue with his fingers. He presses it down onto your teeth, and begins to furiously jack his cock.

“You never fucking listen.”

You want to smile but you know you can’t. When Coriolanus’ hips thrust particularly hard into the open air, you know he’s about to be close. You push out your tongue even more, watching his tip begin to spew white creamy cum onto your flushed face. He grunts, the sight of your fucked out body covered in the sticky substance making his cock kick one last time before he goes soft. You look up at him with heavy breaths, your mouth open as you lick your lips and taste him on you. His thumb brushes against a puddle of his spend, and he brings it up to your mouth.

“Now clean it up, brat.”

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 03

Kinktober Masterlist in absentia lucis - "in the absence of light" John Price x f!reader Kinks > rape, torture, sensory deprivation Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You are a new recruit to the CIA, and Kate Laswell sends you to some remote blacksite for your interrogation training. Your temporary commander, Captain John Price, gives you a safeword, but as your training begins, you realize that you feel everything except for safe. 

Hey, did you see where the tags said RAPE? Okay, just making sure.

It was three flights and a cab. It was airport food and cold coffee. It was forgetting whether the date ended in a three or a four. It was paperwork and passports and finally a cold office. It was a long trip, and you were running on empty. 

“What are your expectations, here, Katie? I don’t wanna do another Warsaw situ–” The man complained.

“This is nothing like Warsaw. She can handle it. Trust me.” Your boss replied, her voice crackling over the video call.

The man who complained squared his jaw and fixed his eyes on you again, looking at you fresh now that your handler, Kate Laswell, had vouched for you. You tried not to fidget in your seat. You didn’t sit up any straighter. You weren’t here to advertise yourself as the bravest or the toughest of anything. You knew you still needed a lot of training, and if he wanted to draw his own conclusions about you, then that was his business, not yours. 

“Her scores are high. She beat your exam?” 

“She did. Her field test and her ‘chute certifications were performed at a DF site here in the states.”

There was a long pause before Laswell spoke again,

“Do me this favor and maybe I’ll even let you borrow her for a recon mission or two. I know none of your boys are pretty enough to pass for party girls, but mine is.”

“That she is,” you heard his tone darken, thickening in his mouth like sticky sap from a tree, borderline inappropriate. When he saw your reaction to his comment, he turned back to the screen and said, “Alright, Katie. You got a deal. I’ll send her back once she’s out of recovery.”

“Thanks, John. Don’t go easy on her, or she’ll make you pay for it.”

“Is that so?” His wry smile sent a jolt somewhere in your belly that you didn’t appreciate.

She laughed and hung up the call. You waited, trying not to let the jitters or the exhaustion win out, battling both but feeling pulled in either direction just the same. 

“So,” he turned his attention to you at last, “Did you lay in your fuckin’ pink princess bed when you were a little girl and dream about becoming a bloody spy, or is this some sort of complex I should know about?”

You shrugged, 

“A man does what he must…”

“Careful, girl. Quoting Kennedy can’t be good for your health if you’re working in Katie’s office, hm?”

“You don’t need to know why I’m here, sir.” You used his title like a knife, flashing it right in front of his eyes and watching them ignite with his smoldering, quiet fury.

“No, but I bet I’ll find out during our time together,” he promised, making your heart clench with stress and anxiety, “What’s your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Red,” he repeated it to you as if he wanted to see how it felt in his mouth. Then, after a long pause, he explained, “I will also stop before the point of emergent damage. But, I will push you past the point of pain. You will sustain injuries. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, love?”

He seemed to be under the misconception that this was your first rodeo. You knew what you had come here for, and it wasn’t some drill sergeant to yell you into shape. You had already been through Delta Force’s operator training center - the parts they allowed CIA operatives through, anyway - and you’d surpassed what Williamsburg had to offer. You were aiming to serve as a Special Skills operative, the blackest of the black ops groups, and although you lacked the physical strength to be of any use in most field positions, you had one key factor that your fellow recruits didn’t have.

Men never expected a woman to be a threat. 

Laswell had plans for you. She’d tracked down two high value targets, but they were well-guarded. However, there were usually strippers and dancers and prostitutes as far as the eye could see, always partying and coming and going at all hours of the night. You were her way in. But, it was your job to get back out. If you could survive, you’d be a hero. If you didn’t, well, she had more pawns on the board. Not to mention, you had a mission of your own to complete..

So, you worked harder than anyone. You jumped at every field training exercise, you took martial arts classes in every different format you could find, and you lived at the shooting range. You didn’t have a social life. Usually, if you were alone in a room with a man, your fists were connecting with each other’s faces. 

You looked back across the wooden desk in front of you, over his nameplate - Captain Price - and into his startlingly blue eyes,

“I understand.”

He came out of his chair like a fucking demon, lunging for you without warning. As you stumbled backward, wielding your own chair over your shoulder, you sighed inwardly. You’d at least expected a more civilized initiation, maybe even a moment for a coffee, before he started in on his training. But, alas, that was not to be. 

You crashed the wooden chair against his head, neck, and shoulder as he rounded the desk, keeping hold of the broken armrest as a weapon. You stabbed downward, aiming for his throat and not holding back. He blocked you, cracking your wrist against the rigid wood. You stepped into his space, kicking his heel out from under him and following him to the floor. His head hit the concrete with a bang, and you used that moment to pin the armrest against his throat, bearing down on him with all your weight, dislodging his trachea enough to cut his air supply. 

He flung you off of him like a ragdoll, and your back slammed into the leg of the desk. You twisted underneath it, staying just out of his reach, small enough to fit through the gap. He scrambled up on all fours, cackling at you with a gravelly, menacing laugh before leaping up and over the desk to pull you out by your ankles. 

You kicked up and over, making contact with his nose, and when he dropped your other foot, you launched your heel into his balls, making sure to aim as deeply as you could. 

He coughed, and it was your turn to laugh. 

Your victory was short-lived. He launched his body at you, shoving your back down on the desk. You felt the familiar bite of his nameplate digging into your skull, so you dragged it out and swung it at him, cutting him across his cheek. He hissed, yanking it out of your hand and tossing it to the ground. 

The captain forced himself between your legs, pressing his body down on yours, and wrapped his hand across your throat. You fought like hell to get him off, twisting his pinky until you thought it might break, but he caught your wrists in his other hand, holding them at a terrible angle, choking you until you saw rainbow spots discolor your vision. 

“Well,” he said, breathless and bleeding, “Christmas came early, dinn’it?”

Just making sure you read the tag that said this fic has RAPE IN IT. I'm just checking in again. Just want you to know. Okay, thanks.

When you woke up, you weren’t completely sure of it, at first. It was as if you were still asleep. You opened your eyes, but all you saw was an endless blackness. You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t smell anything, and you couldn’t move your jaw. But you could feel everything. 

Your whole body screamed in pain. One of your hands was wrenched above your head, and the weight of your body hung from your broken wrist, making you cry out in whatever muffled way you could.

Then, something was removed from your ears, and you could hear again. It was still quiet, but the sound of the aircon and the noise of another person’s breath were like blaring sirens compared to the silence you had been steeped in. 

“Look who’s awake,” John’s purr of a voice washed over you. 

You tried to reply, tried to beg for him to cut you down, but you couldn’t speak. Your mouth was holding something round and pliant. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he patted your flank, and you were suddenly aware of your nakedness. He’d taken your clothes? You could hear him scooting a metal chair across the room towards you, and his pants rustled as he sat down, “Can’t have you talkin’ your way out of this one. Based on the three stitches in my cheek, I was wrong to underestimate you, darlin’. Shoulda listened to Katie, this time. But, look at you. Just a whisper of a thing.”

His rolling chuckle made your bones itch. 

“Hard to use a safeword when you’ve got a gag on, yeah?”

You nodded, acknowledging the irony. 

Price moved in the chair again. No, he stood. You could hear his boots sliding around you in a half-circle. He kept talking to you, his tone as casual as ever,

“Yeah, thought so. But, this isn’t one of those trainings, pretty girl. You won’t be needing one. I will stop when you’re ready to stop, not when you want to stop. You need to learn that, sometimes, your body…” His hand snaked its way around your thigh and you tried to kick out at him, discovering your ankles were tied together and anchored to the floor, “... is capable of so much more than you give it credit for.”

Your heart began to slam against your chest, and your breathing became labored. You were having a panic attack. If you could only see…

“Hey,” his tone shifted, becoming the instructor again, “Breathe slowly. In. Hold it. Out. All the way. In. Out. Tha’s it. Good.” 

There was a long pause. You could smell him now. It was cigars and fire and gunpowder and smoke. It filled your senses, replacing your sight with scent. 

“I’m gonna put your ears back on, and we’ll see what you can do.” 

The world fell away again, and all you had was the smell of him. Then, he started his training. 

It wasn’t the pain that upset you, not really. Pain was something you could move past. It was the surprise. You never knew when it was coming, nor where he was going to hit you next. Sometimes it was his fist. Sometimes it was a belt. Sometimes it was an electric shock. Legs, ribs, foot, arm, neck, belly… there was no pattern. 

You also had no idea of the passage of time. You were infinite and you existed in the darkness of infinity. It was just pain forever with no reprieve. 

Until it wasn’t.

The first time you felt his fingers pinching the tender peaks of your breasts, your whole body jolted. You hadn’t really responded to the pain in the same way, but to pleasure? It was unexpected in a different way. You didn’t think he would violate you. That wasn’t even something they’d tried to do when you were with the DF. 

You bucked, hoping that your displeasure was noted for the record. 

But, perhaps, your mind teased you, the lady doth protest too much? You had wanted him to touch you when he’d picked you up from the airport. When he shook your hand, hadn’t you measured his fingers and started wanting? Weren’t you eager for training to be over so you could be invited back to his flat for the after-work romp you knew would be on offer?

Hanging there like a slab of meat had changed things a bit, but it had not quelled your desire, unfortunately.

You wondered if he had reacted. You imagined him laughing at you. Was he enjoying himself? Or was this all apart of his brand of training? 

I bet you choke out all the pretty girls… you sneered inwardly. 

More pain. This time, your ass cheeks were the targets. The snapping bite of what felt like a belt hit you repeatedly and without mercy. You found yourself breathless from silently screaming, your tongue pressing against the gag for some sort of relief and finding none. 

Then, pleasure again. His thick fingers fondled your pussy from behind, digging into your flesh and discovering the wetness hidden inside of your unused hole. There was no romance to his movements, but forcing an orgasm from you did seem to be his goal. And fuck, you lamented, he was good at it. 

He doubled up, twisting two fingers deep inside of you, pounding them into your body all the way to the knuckle, fast and hard, dragging you towards the edge. Your legs began to tremble, and you knew your face must’ve looked a mess, because you were in total shock. 

It felt like he was going to vibrate you right out of your skin, and still he moved faster. He wrapped his other hand around your belly, holding you in place, and you thrashed against it, fighting the mounting urge to come. 

You were doing pretty well, you thought, given the conditions. Until…

His soft lips pressed themselves down onto your spine. It was just a chaste kiss, but it unfurled you like a ripcord. You exploded, your whole body convulsing in bliss, and although you were wearing a blindfold, you could see white streaks and stars dancing across your vision. You came alive. 

Price pulled out of you, and you felt the stream of slick drip down your legs. He’d forced you to squirt, something you thought was completely faked, only for pornos. But, there it was, proof of its reality smearing down your thighs and onto the concrete floor. 

Pain, again. 

The searing sting of a taser in the sensitive flesh of your belly. 

Fists and harsh palms. 

The bite of a chain. 

A sharp ache from a needle or a knife. 

His fist closing around your index finger and snapping it cleanly in two. 

You wanted to puke, but there was nothing to come up. Your belly bulged and hollowed, letting you gag and choke around nothing, going through the motions and yet giving you nothing to move. 

Then, pleasure. 

His hands were back on your pussy, finding your clit and teasing you until you jerked forward. But, his hand remained, insisting. And insisting. And insisting. 

You lost track of how many times you’d toppled over the edge of your orgasm. There were no borders, not anymore. Your pleasure was bleeding and smearing all around you in one great wave, blinding you to the starts and stops from coming and not. You were drowning in it. 

Just when you thought you might pass out, you felt the prod of his prick between your legs, entering you from behind. You couldn’t feel a condom. You tried to twist yourself away, rocking your hips to no avail. 

This was definitely not protocol.

Those lips returned to the same spot on your spine, and you melted onto him, covering him like hot wax, sealing your body onto his cock like a brass signet, letting him leave his mark on you. 

His hands found your breasts, squeezing them roughly, holding your body to him in a vicious embrace. 

Then, he dug around inside of your mouth and yanked out the gag. You felt yourself make a terrible noise, but you couldn’t hear the sound that came out. You knew he could, though, because when he heard you, his cock throbbed at your entrance, and it made him push forward, dipping into you even deeper. 

Wait… Captain Price. Please. Wait. Wait. 

You wondered if you were as loud as you tried to be. In fact, you wondered if he could hear you at all because he did not stop. If anything, he went onward with even more fervor. 

His mouth kissed its way across your back, and you could feel his stubble and the coarse hairs of his beard raking their way along your skin. His warm tongue leaving little wet stamps as it laved across you, tasting your sweat. 

The way his fat prick was stretching you out made you question if he was using himself or the armrest of the chair that you had tried to kill him with. You hissed from the ache, but he didn’t halt his advance. Didn’t retreat. He just pressed further inside of you. 

How much cock did this jerk have?

Finally, you felt his hairy base tickle the skin under your ass cheeks, and you knew there was an end to his incredible length. 

What… why are you doing this? Why…

He pulled himself out in the same way he had pressed in, slowly and with a fierce persistence. 

Then, he began to pound himself into you.

You were at the perfect height for him, and it made you sick to your stomach to know that it was deliberate. This had been his plan all along. And although most of you felt completely indignant, there was a nasty little demon in your heart that celebrated in it. He’d wanted you from the start, even after you’d made him bleed, maybe even because of it. 

And that thought brought you no small amount of joy. 

His hands had returned to your breasts, playing with them too roughly. John was pinching your nipples and craning his neck around to suckle from them, nipping at them with his teeth until you screamed from the pain of being bitten. Even then, your screams were a poor deterrent. It didn’t stop him from returning to them, crushing the stiff tips as he worked his cock inside of you, fucking himself up into you at a punishing pace. 

He only pulled away to stick his tongue inside of your armpit, licking you over and over in a place where no one had ever even thought to lick, and you wished you could say, honestly, that it had disgusted you. But, it didn’t. If anything, it made you gasp with a new brand of pleasure. He had awakened something fresh and bright in you that you never meant to discover. 

Then, he got brave. He shoved two fingers right into your slack mouth, and you immediately bit down, hard. You could taste blood, and you fought against his flesh, trying to crack the bone. But, he shoved them down your throat, and all you had to chew on was a fat fist that wouldn’t even allow your jaw to close much less to bite. 

You could feel his fingers in your throat, deep down in a place where fingers were never supposed to go, and all you could do was swallow around them, trying your best to keep from drooling into your airway. 

His cheek pressed into your shoulder blade. He was enjoying you. 

The way his gentle kiss or the softness of his cheek ripped orgasms from you was concerning, to say the least. You hoped you could remember this moment, of how the way he rested himself against you as he was taking you against your vocal will was throwing your body down a deep well of dark, forbidden pleasure. How your vision burned white and gold and formed spots of colors that had no names as he fucked you into a different plane of existence. How you thought, if you got a late night text, written in his smoky, raspy Scouse accent, you would crawl your way back across the pond just so he could give it to you again. 

Oh, my God… You screamed from the pit of your belly. 

His thrusts never slowed. He was like a machine. All those muscles were being put to work, and you were the mission. 

Had it been hours?

Days?

Did the world still exist outside of this concrete cube that you suspected you were in?

Would you starve to death in here?

The demon that apparently lived in your cunt rolled its eyes and said, who cares? I wanna come again and again and again…

And you did. You were so overstimulated that you thought even someone looking at you the right way would make you come. It had become painful, at one point, and now you were not numb… Numb wasn’t the right word. You were soft. Your mind and your pussy were just murky, oily, cock-filled vessels, happy they were full and unwilling to question what it meant. 

When he finally pulled out of you, you were limp. You didn’t thrash or fight. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. 

You felt his fingers again, drawing out your foaming, frothy come into his hand. He used it to smear it along the rim of your asshole. Then, he began to fuck your tight hole with his fingers, one. Over and over. One. One. One. Then, he added a second. Two. Two. A thousand times, two. Three was a bit of a challenge, but he pushed through. Three. Two. Three. Two. Three. Three. Three. And then, none. 

None. 

None. 

Where did he go?

Pain. A heavy hand slapping across your bruised tits. Again. Again. 

You were screaming, surely. You wanted to be, at least. 

The flat of his palm beat itself against your breast over and over without mercy. 

Then, his cockhead rested at the entrance of your asshole. 

You didn’t beg this time. If anything, he should be the one begging, you thought. If you lived, you were going to make him remember you. 

Price shoved himself inside of you with some force, but you took it. You waited until he was fully sheathed inside, and when he took a breath, when those lips rested themselves on the back of your neck, you beared down on him, hard. 

You felt his breath catch as it skittered across your skin. 

The demon in you chuckled in triumph. 

C’mon, Captain. Is that all you got? You made the words come out of your throat, and you hoped he could hear you. 

The way that his hand fisted itself in your hair told you that he had. 

If you thought he had fucked your pussy like an animal, you had been mistaken. He took your ass like he owned it. Like it was his toy. There was no pleasure-seeking rhythm, no careful pacing or grinding movements. He was fucking you because he wanted to come. So, you made him. 

Every time he dragged himself out, you let him go, but every time he pressed himself in, you fought him the whole way. Squeezing and pushing, squeezing and pushing, making your tight hole even tighter, rocking your hips to drive him mad with want. 

You felt him lose control, his hot spend filling your ass and bursting out of his swollen head, soaking your hole. You pulsed around him, and you felt that soft cheek return to your shoulder. 

Come for me, baby. Good boy. You giggled out loud. 

He slapped you across the mouth, and you laughed harder, feeling his cock slip out of you, spent. 

You can’t hurt me in a way that matters, John Price. Do your fuckin’ worst.

You felt him step around you, smelling his breath as he held you face to face. Then, the noise of the room came back and you could hear him panting, ragged and desperate. You felt the blindfold fall away and you could see him, your eyes shrinking in the dim light of the cell, hurt by even the smallest glow of light. 

You were back, but you were not yourself. Not anymore. You were a different you. Someone he had made. He had crafted you with his own hands. 

“Why? Why didn’t you beg me to stop?”

His eyes were burning into yours as he stared down at you, questioning what he had done, what you had done with him. You had used him like a sharpener, honing yourself to a high shine, and he didn’t understand. 

When you heard your voice for the first time, you mourned it a bit, but you knew it would come back eventually. It was raspy, muddled, and barely audible, but you said it with your whole chest,

“I was made for this, and I could go all fuckin’ day.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long did he keep you prisoner?”

Kate Laswell, you fucking bitch. 

He’d read your file. The real one. Not the one on your tagline, but the one that you and Laswell had hidden away. 

“Five months,” you told him, a sick smile on your face, “But, you already knew that.”  

He sighed, his hands on his hips, just as naked as you, which you found a little funny. 

“Why’d you come here? Why would she…” 

You watched him wrestle with the betrayal in his head, knowing he’d been manipulated. He’d walked right into her trap. You basked in his confusion, having almost as much fun as you’d had while he was railing you into oblivion. 

“Laswell said you needed a way into the Ikon, some strip club on the border between Russia and Urzikstan. So, I said I would help.”

“And she knew I’d say no…”

“Unless you knew I could handle it.”

It was his turn to be in pain. You could see the fire of it creeping through his belly, knowing he’d just tortured a girl who’d written the book in torture. The surgeries and the psych consults were long, long behind you, but your run in with the Russian mob was not something you were ever going to forget. But, now, John Price was going to give you a chance at revenge. You were his gun, and you just needed him to point you in the right direction. 

Suddenly, he cut you down, freeing you from your hanging place. You crumpled into his arms, letting him hold you as you collapsed. You used your hands to pet the worry out of his eyes, and he fought you for it, trying to stop you from comforting him. So, you grabbed him with what little strength you could muster, and you pulled his face to yours, pressing your mouths together, making him taste your blood from where he had cut your cheek against your teeth. He yanked his head back, furrowing his brow,

“No, stop…”

“Shut up,” you said, kissing him again and feeling his surrender as he held you tighter, pulling you into his chest even though he was ridden with guilt. 

“We shouldn’t, love. I’m so sor–”

“Where’d you put that gag?” You pretended to look around for it, earning a slight smile and an exasperated huff.

You knew you’d made the cut, because when he fucked you this time, he didn’t hold back.

Whelp. Kinktober!

[chatterbox-73]

Kinktober 2024.

Day 22 - Say it.

Loid Forger/Twilight x GN!Reader

This story is a smut story for Kinktober, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Kinktober and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

Summary: you’re on old colleague of Twilights and you have been sent to help him with his missing, however he believes there’s a deeper reason for your appearance so what will he do to get his information.

Word count: 970

CW: NSFW and adult content, casual sex, slightly cheating, bondage, choking, couch sex, spy!reader.

“I’ve nothing to say…” you hummed while tapping a finger on the table were sat at, “what is the Handler playing at?” Twilight took a serious tone and sat up, you smiled and shrugged.

You had been sent to gauge the progress of one Ayna Forger and tutor for her so that the mission could move along quicker, you were also meant to become a mentor figure for her, so that she wasn’t tossed away once Twilight’s mission was finished and perhaps the girl under your guidance could become an excellent spy.

“You’re planing to make her into one of us…” Twilight stated in a questioning tone and you only smiled deeper, before shrugging “maybe… I mean what were you planning after the mission” you raised a brow and the man’s eyes hardened, “what take here back to that dingy little orphanage…?” You chuckled and Twilight suddenly stood up, you held your hands up and watched him, “come now Twilight, I’m only joking” you smiled and stood as Twilight walked around the table, before moving to grab you, “it’s Loid… address me as such” he hissed and you both struggled for a moment before he forced you to the ground, “oh right… Loid” you hummed “or maybe Mr. Forger… or doctor Forger?” You smiled and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his neck before hooking a leg around his and managing to flip the both of you, “I only wanna tutor your daughter Mr. Forger, so she can grow into a proper young woman” you whispered as you leant in a kiss his neck against.

“I shouldn’t do this…” Loid hummed as he held the undersides of your thighs as he slowly slid in and out of you, “You’re right… we shouldn’t, but it feels too damn good to stop” you moaned as you held his biceps, Loid slowly lifted you again until his tip was all that was left, “you make me a weak man…” he groaned as he laid you back on the couch before quickly sliding back in and losing himself while taking you with him.

It had always been like this, whenever you’d both cross paths, and it seemed today was no different, maybe Loid was even more anxious to do it, “what game are you playing at…? Trying to make things difficult for me” he huffed as his hips snapped forward in a hard pace, “not everything is about you…” you laughed through a moan and grabbed his shoulder for support, “I’m merely doing my job… han- Handle wants someone looking out for Anya and she asked me…” you spoke through heavy panting and sighing, Loid looked off to the side for a moment as if in thought all while continuing the thrust his hip, “look we’re gonna be here for hours if you don’t focus on this” you hummed and ran the fingers of one of your hand into the hair on the nape of his neck, before pulling him in and kissing him with on open mouth kiss.

You moan through Loid’s hand as he presses one of his hands over your mouth and the other held your arms that had been bound by his tie above your head, all while he quickly grunted and thrusted deeply into you, “You’re such a pain in the backside… this is gonna cause me so much trouble” he huffed in your face and wrapped your shaky legs around him, “why do I do this too myself?” He questioned through a whimper and you rolled your eyes back as that feeling of pure ecstasy filled you, it coiled tighter inside you, causing you to squeeze around Loid, your walls gripping him and pulsing.

“I’m almost there, I just-“ Loid groaned and dropped his face into your chest, lick and sucking marks into your soft skin, “it’s so damn warm… tell me who fucks you this good” he grunted as he moved his hand from you mouth and gently placed it on your neck, as he leaned up again and looked down at you with his piercing eyes, “it’s you Loi…” you cut yourself off before whispering “Twilight…” in a soft extended moan, “that’s right say it…” he grunted and continued to snap his hips into your far too tight hole, “it’s you Twilight… you fuck me this good” you moaned and begin to somewhat softly chant his name, before he began slowly squeezing the hand around your neck tighter, before moving his other hand down to your neck and pressing it against your throat with the other.

You winced out a moan and quickly began to come undone, it was hard to breathe or make sense of anything, your vision blurred and all you could see was Twilight’s face, he smiled a harsh grin as he watched you, before he grit his teeth and his cock began twitching inside of you, he grunted and squeezed down on your throat a more, before releasing himself and letting out of you, twilight continued to watch you with that some harsh glimmer in his eyes, however there was a knock on the door and he turned to looked over, “I’m with a patient…” he called, “yes of course, your family is waiting for you in the lobby, doctor Forger” call the nurse’s voice and suddenly the man’s harsh eyes and wicked grin formed into a soft stare and a kind smile, now he was no longer your lover, no longer Twilight, now he was Loid Forger.

You walked beside him down the hallway towards his awaiting family, you had pushed everything to the back of your mind just as both you and Loid agreed to, ‘that for the foreseeable future the two of you would be nothing, from now on you are solely the tutor of Anya Forger and nothing else’.

Kinktober Masterlist

Day 21 - Jean Kirstein: Sixty-nine.

Day 23 - Kei Tsukishima: Degradation.

[brokenpieces-72]

Home for Holidays

Monster! 141 (mostly Soap) x Hybrid female Reader (jackalope/wendigo)

This is a continuation of the previous fanfic on my page. The only context you need it that the reader is teenager. Mentions @diejager reader character Hunter and is based on designs by @bluegiragi

CW/TW: Mentions of trauma, abuse, family trauma, punishment, origins of wendigo, crying, angst, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Soon enough Holidays come around and there are no signs of your handler returning to base. Which means you’ll likely be alone on base on the holidays. It’s not the first time so that’s okay but you do get jealous when plans are brought up in conversation.

“So what’ll you be doin lass?” Johnny asks. His friendly face becomes a small frown when you shrug.

“Maybe I’ll just stay on base with Ghost…not sure what else there is. Nowhere to go really…” You say shrugging. Johnny’s brother side comes out in full swing, not just for you but for Simon as well. He knows Simon uses the holidays for his own needs, and doesn’t really stay on base the whole time. Leaving you behind didn’t feel fair to him. Not only that but it’s not fair to you, to have to sit in your room by yourself bored out of your mind.

Johnny makes some calls after that and soon learns there’ll be some paperwork but he doesn’t care. It’ll be worth it.

Nikolai comes to pick people up to take home, and Johnny has you already packed and it basically bouncing on your bed to get you to wake up.

“Come on wheels up lass!”

He’s carrying the duffel you had when you came and hands it to you.

“But-“ you’re half awake as you try to protest.

“No questions. Come on.” He says and you both get on the helicopter. Rudy and Alejandro say good bye to you before you leave and give you a gift to open on Christmas as does Gaz and Price. Ghost sees you off and you tell him you hope he enjoys the privacy.

Johnny takes you to his hometown, and when you land he explains that he made some calls home. And then to Laswell, and the program and few others to make sure everything was sorted.

“Ma didn wantya to be alone. Just know you’ll be put to work still…got dat?” You nod and he takes you to his house after you land, where you meet Soap’s mother and Soap’s older brother. His mother comments a bit on your appearance saying you look a little pale and could afford to put on a couple pounds. Soap gives her a look but you shake it off saying you have been. She gives you a warm smile and helps you find your room.

You have a good time on your leave and it feels a little odd to you. Your family was way different, but Johnny’s is cozy and kind and teasing. You join in on jabs at him, and help around the house as best you can, learning more basic skills like cooking and chopping wood. Johnny takes you to a few different places around, along with his brother, and you even meet a couple of his football buddies. They’re friendly and tell you some stories about Johnny. They ask about the ears and antlers. Johnny lets you answer how you choose, whether it’s as a jackalope or a wendigo. At some point he leaves you with his friends to take care of something and when he comes back, he sees you talking and having a good conversation with them. It’s hard to imagine you were once this simple, shy, apologetic kid and now you had grown into a friendly, healthy teenager.

One night you and Johnny take a minute to relax on a bench before continuing your walk home. The two of you had just left his friend and their partner at a store, and the walk home would be long. Johnny could handle walking in the dark but wanted you to be safe too. You both look out at the street lit up by garlands of lights and shop windows. It was good to finally take a break after all the walking around. You watch people go by and notice body language you didn’t often see on base. Couples holding hands, kids running and skipping, snowballs being thrown, parents swinging their kids. You lean against your knees, following Johnny’s sitting position.

“Are all families like this?” You ask. Johnny notices where you had been looking and shrugs.

“Nah all of em. The good ones are.” Johnny ponders for a moment before inquiring. “Take it you didn ave that.”

You shake your head.

“Wha were they like?” He asks. You go very quiet, and he pays closer attention. It’s not an easy subject, your parents were mean and obsessive over your hybrid features. You were outcasted and isolated. Christmas was a rough time, as you would see people happy outside but never felt the same way.

“…they…they used to yell at me. Sometimes hit me.” You confessed. Johnny looks at you. “It kept escalating… sometimes it was burns or no food for a day. Then one day they grounded me and put me in the basement.” You pause for a shaky breath feeling your throat tighten up. Johnny lets you continue at your own pace. “They gave me raw meat and told me there was nothing else…”

You’re shaking recalling the horrid memory of how you became a wendigo. Your family wasn’t normal and your parents weren’t sane. You only found out how insane they were when it was too late. How cultish they could be.

Johnny doesn’t need you to finish, and instead moves closer to you on the bench and holds you tight. The tears just come down and you nestle into his winter jacket. You feel a gloved hand on your head keeping you close.

“You didn do anythin wrong.” He tells you over and over, tucking your head under his chin. “You’re a good kid. Don’ forgae ‘at.”

You finally pull away after a while and he asks if you’re ready to keep going. You nod, he gives you his arm to cling to while you head home. There are still tears but your face is stinging from the cold, and you’d rather be inside. Johnny tries to change the subject or make some jokes with you. He gets a couple giggles for his dad jokes. When you finally get back, Johnny’s mother notices your tears and gets you some water. She doesn’t ask about it and lets her son handle everything while you curl up on the couch with him watching Die Hard.

You feel more and more comfortable snuggling up to Soap, and he you. He’s taken to calling you ‘pup’ and ‘whelp’. When you walk in to relax with him he offers to shift for you so you can have a soft pillow to rest against. It doesn’t take long before his brother and mother are friendly with you too, spending some alone time with them as well. His mother has taken a shine to you, often asking for some help in the kitchen or showing you cute videos she found online. There’s a couple of Facebook posts usually involving the Grinch or Peanuts cartoons that you find cute, and smile at.

His mom expresses concern multiple times about your wardrobe, noticing you wear the same items in a row.

“If ya wouldna mind me askin dear, didn ya wear that shirt yesterday?”

“Y-yes. Is that bad?” You ask.

“No no of curse not, it’s a nice shirt, but doncha ave other clothes?” She asks. When you shake your head she sets down whatever she is working on. It doesn’t take long for her to check if any of her sons’ old clothes will fit you. The clothes are a little baggy on you, even with the couple extra pounds you’ve gained while staying there but they’ll work. Especially since they’ll likely get torn anyways when you back to base. Honestly his mother is glad they’ll be put to use, and they’re some of the few clothes she has that are intact since Johnny’s form often rips his clothing.

Christmas Eve comes around and Soap is up early for his workout and his mother is up for her meal prep.

“Aye ma? Canna ask you somethin?” Soap asks quietly, not wanting to wake you or give you the chance to hear him.

“Yes?”

“Whatcha think of the lass?”

She takes a moment to think about it.

“Lovely child. Takes after ya a bit moore than I’d like.” She teases. Johnny smiles before unloading a bit on to his mother. “They don’t ave anywhere else to go after this, unless Price keeps em. So it got me thinkin uhh…” his tail twitches awkwardly as she takes note of his tone. His mom has seen how her sons’ tails react when they get a certain way. Before he can ask she answers the question.

“I think ya need to think this over some more. I wouldna mind it… but she’s got as much of a say as you do. Honestly she’s a lovely lass, and I know you’ve taken a shine to her. More than a shine, yer practically her brother. You’ve told me what she is, and I have no qualms but ya better be here for her too. I’m not dealin’ with a hybrid under my roof, alone and at my age.”

“I will ma, thank you.” Johnny decides to bring it up later when you guys head back to base.

Christmas comes and it’s overwhelming for someone unused to large close gatherings. Johnny and his brother make it a habit for at least one of them to stay close to you. Their relatives ask tou questions and get to know you. You don’t unload like you did with Johnny, but when your past comes up you do respond.

“Well my adoptive parents were pretty bad, so after that my social worker put me in the program for rehabilitation and relocation I guess.”

When you get the chance you slip away to take a breath, and relax a bit. The whole situation is crazy after being on a such an isolated family. The holidays weren’t exactly great for you, and sometimes you were alone to open gifts by yourself. The gifts were strange too, often in the form of weird books and strange toys. Looking back, to any normal person the gifts should have been red flags. Johnny finds you soon enough, and asks if you just want some time to yourself.

“This is normal? Spending holidays like this?” You ask. He nods.

“Never got ‘at back ‘ome.”

You shake your head. Johnny isn’t one to show vulnerability but damn you make it hard.

“Fairly normal. You open your gifts yet?” He asks. “Come on we’re about to start opening them.”

You get up and follow him, carrying the gifts you got from the 141 into the living room, and sit down. Anyone seeing the scene would know you were out of place, as everyone was either human or a werewolf. Johnny’s mom sits by you, and has a gift for you too. You open it and you laugh, finding a hoodie for Johnny’s favourite football team. Johnny looks over and basically cheers seeing the hoodie. The gifts from the team are a journal and some stationary and a sketchbook. They’re simple gifts sure but they’re better than anything you had gotten before. They were yours.

Next couple days you spend collecting and drawing around the area. You take the journal everywhere, writing about the things you see and draw your own ideas.

During a visit to a restaurant you notice some humans and draw them as hybrids, giving them tails and wings. Any common or ugly looks from other humans go ignored as you focus on the pencils and paper before you.

Your journal gets filled with cards, photos, stickers, scribbles and a couple of miscellaneous items you find like leaves, flowers and feathers. It’s not long before items are poking out from between the pages marking your progress. You write plenty of thoughts, and even a couple stories about the items you find.

[gentrychild]

I wonder, how would the Forgers dynamic with the people in their social circle change once their secrets become known to one another?

Your thoughts?

*misreads your question on purpose*

Hello, do you want my opinion about how the Forgers would react if their secrets became exposed to one another? Of course, of course, if you insist, I guess I could share some thoughts that I have that I do not hold to the ranks of beloved headcanons that canon will have to tear from my cold dead hands.

How would Yor react after learning that Loid is a spy that has been lying to her this whole time: she would admire him even more. She was already in awe of what a good father he was and how skilled he is at everything but it turns out that he is even more extraordinary than expected. Always go beyond when it comes to what he needs to do. He lied to her about the marriage? She lied to him about not murdering people daily in bloody and creative ways, it's a stone she can't cast. He lied to her about Anya being his blood daughter and how she needed to get into Eden Academy because that's what her mom wanted? All she hears is that this man was given a mission and to do that, he happened to rescue Anya from an orphanage, to give her a home where she misses nothing and to be the Best Dad ever. Talk about multitasking.

How would Loid react after learning that Yor is an assassin who has been lying to her this whole time: pure lust for her skills. Unquenchable yearning for the way she can sever someone's spine with one kick. All of Wise and Franky would be freaking out about Yor going through mooks and he would be the "That's my wife!" guy. So proud. Turns out he is somehow even better at choosing spouse than previously assumed. Would he freak out at first? Yes. That's the same guy who freak out about the secret police arresting him for spy crimes if he doesn't buy his daughter a silly keychain. He wouldn't mind the killing, though, as he can hardly cast the stone for that one either. The problem is: is Yor a danger for Anya and Loid? Was he so compromised that he didn't see the threat? And from the moment he remembers that Yor would kill and die for Anya, just like him, there is no problem anymore, rationalization aplenty, cue to him telling the Handler that it's great to have an assassin at home because extra security, good of the mission, blah blah blah, peace of the world.

How would Loid and Yor react after learning that Anya can read minds and got her powers from scientists experimenting on her: Complete and absolute mortification as they are going through every silly thoughts they ever had in her presence. Almost spontaneously combust out of sheer embarrassment. Then, they are "Guess my daughter is even more exceptional than previously assumed but it checks out." No one says a word about her powers to anyone else, though, as they do not want her to be used. And during the entire conversation, they are reaaaaaaaaaaaaaally calm, reaaaaaaaaaaally poised, and as soon as Anya falls asleep, it's MURDER THOUGHTS FOR THE SCIENTISTS that make the entire building hallucinate visions of their own deaths.

How would Loid and Yor react after learning that Bond can see the future: Straight up disbelief. You gotta draw the line somewhere. Then, epic case of freak out when they realize that the first time Anya ran off with the dog was because their kid tried to disarm a bomb.

[abdy-18]

I thought about the parallels between Loid and Anya and it just occurred to me the possibility that, like Anya, [REDACTED] wasn't the best in school, which is why his father looks a bit surprised when he tells him he needs money for books, similar to when Loid is surprised to see Anya studying on her own.

I overthought this and now it's my first long post, sorry jkfhs.

Only, unlike Loid who tries to be empathetic with Anya and values her effort, his father used to be violent every time he didn't get a good grade on an exam.

His mother's reaction after he hits him is to say that “why do you always have to be like this?”, this situation must have been repeated several times and for several reasons, not just for playing war with his friends.

And that's probably why he didn't want Nightfall to be Anya's mother, because, being honest, WISE let Twilight rent a ridiculously expensive castle and made all the agents that were in Ostania drop the missions they were doing just because he asked for it, and he didn't even have to explain what he needed those resources for, considering that, I'm 100% sure that if Twilight had wanted Nightfall to be his wife in the operation Strix, he just had to ask for it and Handler would have given the mission Nightfall had at that moment to another agent so she would be available, but he didn't do it since he knows her, and knows that the teaching method Nightfall proposes is not going to work, because his father treated him like that in his childhood and knows how that feels (Twilight wants a world where children don't cry).

My hc is that [REDACTED] was that kind of kid who is very smart but didn't pay enough attention to school because he was sure he would become a soldier with his friends, or the stress of making his father angry had the opposite effect on his grades, making it difficult for him to concentrate, so he did not reach his full potential.

And it's sad because Twilight is so smart that he's on the level of someone like Yuri (or smarter), who unlike Twilight, was able to graduate from school and college with honors.

In one week, Twilight was able to read all the books necessary to pass himself off as a respected psychiatrist, he can hold conversations with his colleagues without anyone suspecting anything, and everyone at the hospital considers him a good doctor. Imagine what that man would be like if he had really finished school or gone to some university.

Unless on some mission Twilight had to pretend to be a university student, he hasn't been in a classroom since the war started, until joining WISE he must have had the academic education of a 6/8 year old, I feel like it would also fit this part.

Even with his limitations he was able to teach himself with books the knowledge necessary for his false identities, I assume that he taught himself since when the op Strix began we see him go to the library to obtain books about parenthood since his character "Loid Forger" is a loving father, so I assume he must have been like that with all his other characters since he was a rookie, although there is also the possibility that during training he obtained some type of academic education idk

As for Yor, I think she stopped going to school until a few years after being Thron Princess, she managed to resume her studies, but quite behind, so she ends up being a few grades behind Yuri and that's why he has to help her with the academic load.

I think that unlike Twilight she did manage to graduate from school because I don't think she could have gotten a job at the city hall without studies 😅.

Or I don't know, I think I'm overthinking this too much, I think I should go to sleep now 😅, also english is not my first languaje so let me know if i wrote bad something 🤗

[zinkysworld]

Boxten stole some of his face in a much much later stage of his twisting and it wasnt *that* bad but as a perfectionist does he did and picked at it and made it worse... okay maybe it was more than pick at it but yk he can get a L O T worse and he's still technically sane here- like, integrated into gardenview and still around the other toons and staff in a safe way- the museum was closed until further notice the second Boxten's ichor eye showed itself so his ego isn't COMPLETELY shattered by judgemental stares, like, only 2 people give him 'the look' (guess who) (Shrimpo and Toodles don't count cuz Shrimpos always a bitch and Toodles is more concerned, and she doesn't know how to express it in a way that's not staring) so he's still stable enough to not go crazy uhh details below the cut tw for sh and (self)cannibalism

I just realised a LOT of lore below the cut

!!!!! hey ppl who care about this au theres a mini timeline for glisten/kinda boxten too below !!!!!! moving on

Order of events- things in brackets are things semi-related but more for figuring out timings (insert Glitterbox pre-twist timeline) -Glisten would've been attacked and killed by Boxten, but instinctually punched him in his sleep, saving himself but beginning Boxten's twist in the process -Gardenview closes until further notice -Glitterbox takes a break from each other, reconnected by Glisten soon after -(Boxten's ichor grows to cover half his face) -(Boxten rips Poppy's eyelashes out) -Boxten is left alone with Glisten for no time at all and manages to shatter part of his face before anyone else enters, and Glisten, unlike the first time, doesn't defend himself as he was conscious and procrastinated -Glitterbox takes a break from each other -(Boxten rips his key out) -Glisten tweaks the fuck out over his appearance and shatters his own face 10x more than before, exposing 1 ☝️ ichor eye -Glitterbox regroups with much reassuring, from Glisten, that he forgives Boxten -Boxten fucking dies [fully twists] -Glisten tweaks out once again and this time rips his stomach open very brutally, screaming and kicking the whole time, and when people came panicked to help him, which worked last time, he just moved to ripping his sleeves, scratching his arms, and scooping his ichory 'guts' in the break in his face [it felt like eating to him at the time] and more eyes began forming until he was knocked to sleep by his handler -(Boxten's handler dies to his toon as witnessed by Poppy's handler, says false goodbyes and love yous to a hallucination and dies content) -???

Why is he still an ichory mess? Wherever the ichor still shows up is permanent and stained into him unless it were to be bleached, and he refuses to let anyone change his shirt (he let his leggings and leg warmers get changed despite them being only dirty and not damaged + a more sensitive area on his body) Why wont he let anyone change his shirt? Boxten laid on it in the last cuddle they had before he became a creature beyond comprehension, and he doesn't wanna risk forgetting the metaphorical (memories they made) so he keeps the physical (shirt) as a back up Why are his hands tied? So he doesn't try that whole eating himself shit again, tied by his handler, told by his handler, dw Glisten doesn't mind, actively the opposite, he's comforted by it (both the knowledge he's stopped from injuring himself/others and the idea his handler cares about him enough, still, after he's become this thing, to not let him be hurt) And as a little nerd wanting-outfits-to-make-sense bonus, the extra ribbon spindly things normally tied as an extra under his normal bow are the ones now tied around his arms!!!!! When the hellfire happened he had his bows taken off so they're still clean

yapsesh over

[writingwarden]

HESH REQUEST!!!

him helping you clean out your attic and you find a bunch of your childhood stuff :( (including your old diary, which is FILLED with pages you wrote about him)

Anon, you're a genius

David "Hesh" Walker x Reader

TW- None, just fluff, love confessions, kissing, minute emotional angst

Word Count- 2.1k

Summary- Feelings dug up by written words

[A/N- Typed this out in one sitting! Tried to keep it GN.]

Call Sign- BADGER

There was only one good thing about being sent into No Man's Land, and that was the fact you were able to make a stop at your old house. Memories rush at you as you cross what used to be the threshold. The house was smaller than those around it, a nice looking one story building with a huge backyard. As an only child your parents felt they didn’t need so much empty space. Dust covers every surface you look at, the wildlife has taken over every inch it could reach. The air was thick as you moved further into the house, Riley at your heels and his handler not far behind.

Hesh’s and Logan’s footsteps echo loudly against the crumbling walls of your once pristine home. Your mother had taken pride in how orderly she had kept things. She always had somebody over for whatever reasons. That was actually how you had come to know the Walker boys. You mom and dad had been close friends of Elias Walker, your dad having served with the man. One day she had them over for lunch, the next thing you know you’re skating with Hesh and teaching Logan how to pick locks. You three had become the three musketeers. If one of you had an idea, then all of you had a plan.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen to take in the feelings that come with returning to a place you used to hold dear, a long sigh leaves your chest. “It’s weird being back here after everything,” you say to the men behind you, “We have a minute to look around, feel free to dredge up old memories.” 

Slinging your rifle over your shoulder, you start looking through the cabinets. You weren’t looking for anything specific but it was somewhat comforting to see that most of the dishware had survived. You could hear comments from Hesh from further in the house. Moving through the house made you almost want to tear up, it was a lot to process in the short amount of time you had. Down the hallway was Riley.

The dog stood in front of your old bedroom door, behind him the ladder that led to the attic had been pulled down. “Which one of you’s up there?” you called out from the floor. Hesh’s head pops out, looking down at you with a grin on his face. You shoot him a questioning glance.

“Badger, the fort is still standing!” He elaborates excitedly. The fort in question was exactly as it sounds; a hangout spot built from storage tubs and old blankets that hadn’t been used since your parents lived up north. A smile creeps onto your face when a memory hits you. 

“Well shit, I told you it would survive to the end of the world.” You had built the place after all, and your creations don’t fall apart easily. “You know, there should be a box of those books in there somewhere. I remember a copy of World War Z being in there somewhere. See if you can find them?” you suggest. 

He moves his head around in an indecisive way before nodding, “Yeah I'll try to find it.” He disappears back into the attic for a second before reappearing, “Oh yeah, I found some stuff from when you were younger. I’ll bring some down for you to look through.” And with that he’s gone again. 

A huff from Riley has you looking down and shaking your head fondly at the dog. Riley pawed at the closed door again. Looking up you stare at the plain white door that leads to your old bedroom, why were you hesitating?

Slowly you reach your hand out, resting it on the cool brass doorknob. Just open the door. Placing your forehead against the door and taking a deep breath, You don’t have time to move this slow. What is wrong? A quick push and the door squeals open, hinges rusted from years of no use and nature's wrath.

The room looks just how you left it, your favorite color painted on the walls and your bed still unmade. If it weren’t for the dust and fallen debris from where a part of the ceiling fell in, the room looks as if you had just stepped out for a moment. Clothes still strewn around from your searching and desk still in disarray from writing in your diary before you left. That’s how you knew you were desperate to leave, you never left that book in the open. But you had been so worried about getting over to Hesh’s place that you had left it open. You don’t know why you hadn’t put it up, the Walker household was only a three block walk from your own. You would have made it in time.

You had been a block away from the boy’s house when the ground exploded, sending you into the grass. Your skateboard still clutched tightly under your arm, your blue  drawstring bookbag cushioning your fall. In your panicked state you tried to rush home, the sifting road preventing you from reaching your destination. Your only saving grace had been Hesh’s dad, Mr. Elias Walker in his screeching to a  halt in front of you. He flung the passenger side door open and you scrambled in. After that, he found the boys and the rest is history.

Entering the room further you pick up random items, quickly and silently going through the items. A few small items are stashed into your backpack, two of which being a family photo and your childhood keepsake. The thought passed to go into your parents room but you knew that would only bring sobbing and you couldn’t afford that right now. If you were lucky there would be a later time to properly mourn for them again. Turning around, you face the messy desk. As you approach you take in the messy state of it, shaking your head at the lack of organization.

A thump from the kitchen. Stepping out into the hallway you see Logan picking up a dining chair. “You okay Lo?” you call from where you stand. He looks up and smiles before holding a thumbs up in your direction. Shaking your head at the younger man, you re-enter the room, heading straight back to the desk. That diary that held every thought that crossed your past thoughts. Every single one dated and time stamped in a 24 hour clock format. Your dad had been adamant that you used the “military” time, citing that you would never be confused between 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM. He had been right, you had never confused 05:00 with 17:00. 

Picking up the book you can’t help but feel like you were in mourning. Flipping through the pages reveals a time where what you were wearing to go out and the latest thing Hesh had done to make you feel butterflies in your stomach were the biggest problems in your life; not worrying about a bullet through your skull or a knife to the gut. Those feelings were still there like a raging storm. And it was honestly no surprise that you had come to be absolutely smitten with the man in the room above you. Everyone could see that even now you were in love with Hesh. Everyone but him; flipping back to the last page that had been written, your heart breaks a little more.

The date on the top of the page read 10:49, July 10th, 2017. The day ODIN had fired on Earth and uprooted the entire world's life. Eyes scanning the page as memories from that day screech to a halt in the forefront of your mind. You and Hesh were supposed to go downtown to skate and meet up with a few friends for dinner. Past you lamented onto the page about your outfit and that your hair wasn’t working with you. In between complaining about your outfit or excitedly talking about your plans for later that day, was your feelings of nervousness. You remember vividly searching frantically through your wardrobe and failing to find that one shirt Hesh had said he liked on you. That day was supposed to be special. Skating, dinner with your crush, a confession that you had hoped wouldn’t go wrong; instead you got a burnt breakfast and a crater in the middle of the city.

Footsteps echo from the attic as Hesh calls for you, “Badger! I got a box of things, could use some help getting it down.” 

You finish putting the diary and any working stationary into your pack before moving to the bottom of the ladder again. Hesh wastes no time handing you a medium sized plastic tub. Taking the box into your arms you're surprised about how heavy it is. He must have found a lot. Hesh makes his way down as you walk back into the bedroom.

The box is set on the unmade bed and the lid is removed from the box to reveal several more items from your childhood. Most of them had been completely forgotten. Further into the box were books from the fort. But the item that had you pausing was the brightly colored notebook that once served as your diary. Flipping to the cover page revealed your name and a messy all capitalized KEEP OUT OR ELSE in blue sharpie. 

Hesh steps up to your left side, a shit-eating grin sprawled across his face. “Prime literature right there, Badger.” He says teasingly. Heat rushes to your face, you feel that if you turned and looked at the mirror on the back of your bedroom door you’d probably see your entire face looked as if you slammed it into a bucket of blush. 

You begin to stammer out an explanation when Hesh takes the book from your hands. He flips to a certain page and clears his throat. “I’ll have to say, this one’s probably my favorite,” His eyes sparkled as he read the words out loud, “I can’t believe that I’m in love with this stupid, handsome, green-eyed dumbass. Somebody please sedate me before I explode the next time he shoots me that stupid ass smile. With three green hearts drawn after it.” 

You could’ve passed away on the spot, embarrassment zipping through your very soul as he flips through the pages. Avoiding his eyes you look anywhere but him, afraid of the rejection you’d find there. He was going to laugh at you and that would hurt more than a straight up “No.” would have. Why of all things did he have to find that! You pick at your hands as you look back at him, preparing yourself for the worst.

But you don’t find laughing or a sneer at your words, you just see him studying your being. Instead you find joy in his eyes and that stupid comforting smile. “I- I can explain-” you begin but don’t get to finish. You don’t get to finish what was sure to be a jumbled ramble because Hesh is surging forward, his lips pressed to yours. His hands pull you close by your vest straps to deepen the kiss. The shock leaves just as quick as it came and you're wrapping your arms around his neck.

Eventually you both need to come up for air, the realization of what is happening dawning slowly on you. 

“That was-”

“I-” 

You both began at the same time. You clear your throat, “You first?” 

Hesh shifts on his feet, looking rather pleased with himself. “I was going to stop reading it, I swear!” He puts his hands up in a defensive way, “But then I saw my name and I got invested in this little plot of yours.” 

Sheepishly you raise your hand to rub the back of your head, “Yeah, well I had a lot to write about…” You let your sentence trail off, unsure of what to say next. But you figure you might as well tell him. “I feel like this is the part where I tell you I had planned to tell you after we were supposed to go downtown and meet up with our friends.” You laugh quietly and gesture to the dusty clothes strewn around the room, “I was even trying to find that one shirt that you told me you liked.” A pause of silence passes before he speaks up. 

“But then ODIN happened… Well shit, Badger.” He also looked at a loss for words. A rare sight. “Well, no time like now, huh?” 

You thought for a minute before leaning back in and kissing him again. “Yeah, no time like now I suppose.” 

[Not Pictured- Logan and Riley standing in the doorway baffled.]

[A/N- Took a little inspiration from my own younger self's journal! Hope I did this Justice! Likes and Re-blogs are always welcomed]

[sashaisready]

Food shopping with Bucky

I love a little domesticity and sweetness so here’s a fluffy drabble on what it’d be like to do your grocery shopping with Bucky.

~ He’d often be overwhelmed by the sheer choice at the supermarket. In his day it was one type of everything, maybe two, not shelves and shelves of different brands and varieties. You’d find him in an aisle holding two near identical boxes of cereal in his hands, trying to figure out which one is better until you swoop in and help.

~ ‘You don’t need all this choice’ he’d grumble. ‘Nobody needs to decide between 8 different types of ketchup’.

~ You’d smile affectionately and take his arm. ‘Alright old man, simmer down’. He’d give you a warning look but then his face would crumple into a smile. You’re the only one who can talk like that to him and get away with it.

~ He never did his own grocery shopping as the Soldier because his handlers kept him fed, so it’s been a bit of a learning curve. But despite how overwhelming it can be he quite likes the experience: chatting to the workers, diligently following a list. Mostly he likes that he’s in control, he gets to choose exactly what he wants. You know having that autonomy is important to him, so you let him lead.

~ Food is becoming more enjoyable to him because of you. He used to only eat for fuel, for necessity, but now he has started enjoying eating and cooking because you’ve introduced him to the joys of food. He wanders off and you find him peering at the cooking sauces aisle while checking a new recipe on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Let’s try this one’ he tells you as he picks up the sauce. You nod encouragingly, ‘Sure, looks good’ you say smiling. He’s come a long way.

~ You stretch to reach something on the tallest shelf but can’t quite manage. Without missing a beat he grabs it with ease and hands it to you. Later on you go to pick up a heavy bag of charcoal for the BBQ and he tsks you scoldingly, grabbing the bag from you and slugging it effortlessly over his shoulder. ‘Doll…’ he sighs. ‘I’ve told you before to be careful’. He looks at you with a hint of annoyance, his stern face no match for how much he cares for you.

~ As you wait in line he diligently checks the cart to ensure you got everything you need, his metal fingers casually drawing a circle on your lower back as he double checks the list. It’s handwritten on paper of course, he much prefers that to the Notes app. He tells you striking each item off is more satisfying that way. ~ After you’ve paid, you’re delayed when he helps an elderly lady take her bags to her car, vaulting them all up into his arms at once as she stares on, bewildered by his strength.

~ You can’t help but steal a kiss as he returns, he kisses back but looks at you with confusion when you finally finish. ‘What was that for?’ he asks. ‘I just love you’ you smile. He smiles right back. ‘And I love you, Doll’.

[vermilionsun]

Here's the good ending :]

"Bad" ending here

Word count: 2.5k Rating: Explicit Fandom: Touchstarved (Red Spring Studio) Categories: Other Relationships: Mhin/Vere, Mhin & Vere Tags: Sex, Smut, PWOP, Rough sex, Biting, Public sex/Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior (Vere duh), Dirty Talk, Dry humping, Against the wall, Against the mirror, lingerie, Top Vere, Bottom Mhin, Poor cashier

Vere was silently following a Soulless on the outskirts of Eridia, which was, well, just a small distance away from the Amaryllis District's main road. He was keeping a good distance, ready to pounce at any moment. He stalked silently through the undergrowth, his keen senses attuned to the slightest movement. Light filtered through the foliage, casting dappled shadows on the wasteland floor.

Suddenly, a rustle breaks the silence. Vere's ears perk up, and he crouches lower, blending into the shadows as he tracks the direction of the noise. Vere startles as Mhin appears out of nowhere, swiftly dispatching the Soulless with a single strike of their dagger. He lets out a frustrated huff.

Mhin’s head snaps to the side, and their eyes narrow at the sight of Vere emerging from the shadows. They instinctively move into a defensive stance, one hand grasping the dagger at their side.

Vere raises an eyebrow and eyes Mhin warily, his gaze calculating. He holds his hands up in a submissive gesture. He takes a few slow steps forward, still partially obscured by the shadows. "Impressive." He purrs, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Mhin’s expression remains guarded, their body poised to react at a moment’s notice. "I know how to handle myself," they respond tersely, their voice low and wary.

Vere smirks and steps further into the open, his movements unhurried. "No doubt." He concedes, his pink eyes glimmering. "But that was my prey."

Mhin bristles slightly at Vere’s words, their irritation rising. They clench their teeth, their grip on their knife tightening. "And I’m the one who actually took it down," they retort, their voice cool and defiant. "If you wanted it so badly, you should have been faster."

Vere lets out a low chuckle, his smirk widening into a feline grin. "Oh, I see. You're quite the little hunter, aren't you?" He drawls, his steps becoming a slow, deliberate stalk towards Mhin.

Mhin simply watches Vere, their body tense and coiled like a spring, ready to snap. They stand their ground, refusing to back down. "I’m the one who gets results," they reply, their voice betraying just a hint of smugness.

Vere's smile falters momentarily at Mhin's words, but he covers it up with a derisive snort. "You little—"

"Vere!" Vere's handler approaches the two. "Did you get that Soulless?" She asks.

Vere turns to the woman, his expression instantly shifting to a mask of feigned innocence. He gives her a small nod. "Of course, I'm just... admiring a certain someone's impressive skills." He gestures towards Mhin, his tone dripping with subtle sarcasm.

The handler turns towards Mhin, eyeing them with a hint of curiosity. "Hm, I see. We profusely thank you for your assistance," the woman tells Mhin, while giving a dirty glance at Vere as if saying, 'You're in trouble.'

Vere notices his handler's stare and lets out a low huff, knowing that he's going to receive a lecture later. He glances back at Mhin, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a hint of irritation.

Mhin allows a small smirk to play across their lips before turning their attention back to the handler. "Just doing my job," they reply, their tone cool and detached. "You can consider it a favor." Their gaze then moves to Vere, silently challenging him to make a move.

"A favor, you say?" He drawls.

Mhin can see the gears turn in Vere's head. Then his eyes light up.

Uh oh.

"Actually," he says suddenly, his tone abruptly changing to one of mock graciousness. "I suppose a thank you is in order. You did, after all, so generously spare me the trouble of dealing with that Soulless." He takes a small step closer to Mhin, maintaining eye contact as he continues.

"In fact, I think some sort of token of gratitude is warranted. Perhaps you'd be willing to accompany me on a small outing?"

Mhin's heart sinks. "No—"

"Perfect!" Vere cuts them off before they can utter a single word. Vere turns to his handler, a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face. He motions towards Mhin, as if in explanation. "You wouldn't mind, would you, dear?" He asks her, his tone oozing charm.

"Vere."

He bristles slightly at the sound of his handler's stern voice, his smile fading just a fraction. "What? I’m just wanting to properly show my gratitude." He retorts, feigning innocence. He knows he's pushing his luck, but he can't help the excitement that courses through him at the prospect of a bit of freedom. "It'll only be a short while. I’ll return straight after, I promise." He adds, his eyes pleading. His handler regards him, her expression unreadable.

After a few tense moments, she relents with a sigh. "...One hour."

A triumphant grin spreads across Vere’s face, and he gives a small nod. "Perfect, thank you, dear."

He turns back to Mhin, his smirk returning with a vengeance. "You heard her. One hour." He takes Mhin's arm and pulls them back towards the city. The latter blinks in surprise at the swift exchange, a flicker of annoyance passing over their expression.

Mhin ends up following Vere (big mistake); their steps measured and deliberate as they eye him suspiciously.

They arrive at a small, unassuming shop, and Mhin raises an eyebrow at the sign.

They take a step back, their cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. "A lingerie shop?" Mhin blurts out, their voice laced with disbelief. "Seriously?"

Vere grins. "Ah, not quite what you expected, is it?" He chuckles, opening the door and gesturing for Mhin to enter.

Mhin hesitates, their expression a mixture of annoyance and incredulity. They sigh heavily, taking a deep breath to compose themselves before slowly walking into the shop.

They immediately feel out of place; the intimate atmosphere and the array of lacy undergarments surrounding them only add to their discomfort. "You have some nerve, bringing me to a place like this." Mhin mutters.

Vere follows Mhin into the shop, his eyes scanning the various items on display with a hint of mischief. "Nerve? Me? Oh, come now, relax. You might find something you like," he teases, picking up a pair of lacy panties and showing them to Mhin, dangling them tantalizingly.

Mhin's cheeks burn even hotter at the sight and quickly tear their gaze away, schooling their expression into a scowl. "Pffft, highly doubtful." They respond, trying to keep their voice level. They cross their arms over their chest. "There's no way I'm trying on any of this."

Vere sets down the panties, his eyes scanning the shop for something else. "Oh, don't be so sure," he purrs, his tone dripping with arrogance.

He strolls over to a rack of bras, his eyes roving over the selection. His gaze suddenly locks on one in particular, and he grins. Vere picks up the bra, holding it up to Mhin with a smug smile.

"Now, this looks like it would suit you quite well."

The bra is lace, and the color a deep, rich red. It looks luxurious and elegant, and would fit snugly around Mhin's chest. Vere gives it an appreciative look, his mind already imagining what it would look like on them.

Mhin's eyes widen. "There's no way in hell I'm putting that on," they reply, their voice trembling slightly.

Vere steps closer, his voice dropping to a silky murmur as he holds the bra up to Mhin's chest. "Oh, but darling, wouldn't you like to feel how soft it is? How exquisite would it look against your skin?" He spins them around to face the mirror.

"It's quite simple, really," he purrs, moving to stand directly behind Mhin. He moves the lace above their shirt, letting it brush slowly along their chest. "I can see it in your eyes... You're considering it."

Mhin's breath hitches, and they swallow hard, their mind struggling to maintain clarity as Vere's words echo in their ears. They feel the heat of his breath against the back of their neck, his proximity sending a confusing array of sensations through their body.

"I am not!" They protest weakly, their voice betraying even more uncertainty than they intended.

Vere chuckles, relishing the way Mhin's body responds to his words. "What's the harm in just trying it on? Just to see how it looks."

"Just... just to see how it looks," they whisper, the words barely audible.

"That's right, darling. Just to see." Vere smirks, taking their whispered words as a victory. He helps them take off their shirt and gently slides the straps of the bra over their arms and shoulders, positioning it so that it fits securely against their chest.

Mhin's heart races as they take in the sight of their reflection. They can feel the weight of Vere's gaze upon them, the heat of his eyes burning into their flesh. "I... I look..." They trail off.

"Speechless, are we? I don't blame you. Red suits you quite well." He praises, his hands gently caressing their arms.

"I... I look indecent," they finally murmur.

Vere's hands settle on their hips. His grip is firm, but his touch is gentle, almost reverent. "You look tempting. Delectable, seductive, alluring…" He presses himself against their back, his chest against their bare skin. His hands glide slowly up their sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Mhin shivers, and a small gasp slips past their lips. "Vere."

"Hm, are you finally giving in? Can you see just how delicious you look?" He moves his hands up to their chest, his fingers dancing over the lace, before moving to caress the smooth skin beneath.

Mhin closes their eyes, their body arching instinctively, seeking more of his touch. "Yes..." They whisper, the word coming out as a plea rather than a response.

"Yes... what?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against their ear. He continues to run his hands over the lace, his thumbs circling their chest, drawing small, slow circles over their sensitive nipples. "Say it. Say exactly what you want, and it's yours."

Mhin's body quivers under his possessive touch, their breath coming in ragged gasps. They try to find their voice to say what he wants them to say, but the words are caught in their throat.

"You," they gasp out, "I want... I want you."

Vere grins, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He can feel their body shiver under his touch, resolve completely shattered. Leaning down, he traces a path of kisses along their neck, his tongue tasting their skin. He grips their hips, spinning them around to face him and pressing them against the mirror.

They can see the hunger in his eyes, the raw desire that mirrors their own. "Please... take me," they beg, their voice breathless and needy.

"That's it. Beg for me. Tell me how much you want me, how much you need me." His hands move to their wrists, pinning them above their head, his mouth finding their neck again, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin.

It's like Mhin's under some spell. They can hardly think; their mind clouded with lust and longing. Every touch, every kiss, every word from Vere has them completely enthralled; all they want is to feel him, to be with him, and to give in to the overwhelming need that courses through their veins.

"Please," they gasp out, their voice hoarse with need. "I need you. I want you. Please, I'll do anything, just don't stop…"

"Anything? What if I want you to be mine completely? What if I want it all?" One of his knees comes up to Mhin's sex.

They try to arch into the feeling, instinctively seeking more friction, more pressure. "Yes," they moan. "I'll be yours. All yours. Please… I need you."

"That's right, darling. You're mine. All mine." He bites down on their neck hard enough to draw blood.

"Yours," they whisper, the words coming out as a desperate plea. "All yours, please…"

Vere's control is stretched thin.

Vere changes his hold and uses one hand to override their leather pants and underwear, revealing their bare skin underneath. He shifts his body, repositioning his knee between their legs. He can feel their heat against him, his body responding in kind.

They instinctively try to grind against him, desperate for more pressure, more contact. "Please..." They whisper, their voice trembling with need. "Please don't tease me…"

"Such impatience. But I suppose you've earned it." He grinds his knee against them, applying more pressure, giving them the friction they so desperately seek.

"Yes," Mhin gasps and moans, their body arching into his touch as they grind against his knee. "Please, more… more. I need more…"

Vere growls against their skin, his hands moving to their thighs, pulling them to wrap around him. He lifts them up, pinning them against the mirror. "That's it, darling. I want to hear you scream."

One of his hands unbuckles his belt and slides it off, his other hand reaching down into his pants…

With a swift motion, he enters them, causing Mhin to cry out.

"Oh… oh..." They gasp out, their voice catching in their throat.

"That's it, darling. Look at you… completely at my mercy." He pulls back, only to slam back in with even more force, making Mhin's head spin. "Say it again. Say you're mine. Say you belong to me."

Mhin's head falls back against the mirror, the combination of pain and pleasure almost too much to bear. "I... I'm yours... all yours... please," they whined, no longer in control of their own words.

Vere captures their mouth in a rough, heated kiss, his tongue finally—finally—claiming their mouth.

Their bodies move together in a frantic rhythm, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Mhin's hands claw at Vere's back, their nails leaving red marks in their wake, trying to pull him even closer, even deeper.

"You're so beautiful like this; you know that, darling? So vulnerable, so open, so mine."

The mirror fogs up and cracks under the pressure.

Neither notices.

Mhin can feel themselves teetering on the edge, every nerve feeling like it's on fire, gasps and moans growing more frantic.

"Yes, that's it. Let go for me. Let me taste you." Vere whispers as he slams into them one final time, sending them both over the edge, shaking and letting out a low, guttural moan that fills the room.

They collapse together, panting and trembling, their bodies still intertwined as they try to catch their breath.

Mhin clings onto Vere, their fingers tangled in his hair, breaths coming in ragged gasps as they try to catch their breath. "Vere... oh... god..."

Vere holds them close, his arms wrapping around them, his body still pressed against theirs. He nuzzles his face against their neck, inhaling their scent.

"I'm buying you the whole damn shop."

[vomitspit2]

concept with dullahan! dire crowley OR dullahan! floyd leech, you can imagine either ⁽(◍˃̵͈̑ᴗ˂̵͈̑)⁽

now playing harley poe’s vengeance the demon / close the door / outcrowd

part i. vengeance the demon.

it always starts with you running. it has never once changed; you, desperate and panting, throw yourself across the earth on two lunging legs.

sometimes, you trip. sometimes, you crash into things. but you always keep running and running away from the sound of clomping hooves in pursuit. they echo in the mine ruins that you always find yourself in, sounding like an army of horses instead of the single one giving chase.

one time, you finally manage to reach the end of the mine shaft as you can see these polka dot patterns of light just ahead. you break out into a sprint.

the air is less humid when you burst out of the mines like a bullet passing through a body. you make a wild run for the houses lit by lanterns. pumpkins are on each porch. you end up stumbling into one, acquiring a new shoe, as you throw yourself against the door.

“please! he’ll kill me! he’ll kill me he’ll kill me!”

the only response you get is the window by the door opening just slightly. you almost miss the motion, so focused on pounding your fist against the wood. but through your eyes and the blood and the mud, you manage to spy it. two fingers opening up a crack in the blinds and one single eye peeking at you.

“please … please …” you sniffle, blood and snot a thick mélange running down your lips.

the eye stares at you. it looks like an immovable stone, something that has already made its decision. the light of the glowing pumpkin and lanterns pale in comparison to how bright the eye is.

“i can’t help you, yous folk is marked.”

ii. close the door

the girls and boys at your university hate you. your parents don’t hate you but they don’t like you either. you’re not even sure you like yourself.

the only person (and he’s not even a person) who loves you is your black cat, grim.

grim purrs at you which you take as validation as sweet as boyfriend saying he loves you or as validation as heartwarming as a best friend saying she’s grateful that two of you have become friends because no one gets her like you do. in him, you find validation that you have been missing since you were seven and that boy died at your birthday party.

it wasn’t your fault. your hands were only on the reins because the handler asked you, the birthday girl, if you wanted to hold and guide the horse. you must’ve fucked it up somehow because the horse reeled up, a black stallion of huge proportions looking like something carved into a monolith, before the stallion kicked back his legs and struck a boy in the head.

blood paints over the grass as the first adult came outside with the cake, the beginning of happy birthday on his tongue.

which is why some girls corner you in the bathroom, one wearing a party city horse mask and getting in your face. another kicks the stall, mimicking clop-clop noises with her mouth.

because the town hates you. everyone has always hated you.

it causes you little stress besides tears. what causes you the biggest stress is returning to your dorm, finding your window open yet not finding grim.

you search the streets like mad, shaking tuna treats in your hands.

eventually, you come across paw prints that have found their way into a water storm drain tunnel, those ones cities and towns install to minimize flooding risk. the paw prints are wet and small but you know deep down grim’s in there somewhere.

after some hesitation, you walk in.

it’s dark and humid. and you mean dark as in the only way to tell where walls are is to move your hands outward to check where they lie, you can barely make out shapes in this nebulous black. and you mean humid as your hair is starting to stick to the back of your neck and the place where your inner thighs touch are sweating with a passion.

but you have to find the only person who loves you.

you keep going till your foot catches on something. you don’t trip but you feel around with the sole of your foot, coming to conclusion you are stepping on none other than mine-tracks.

you have to go back. you have to go back! you think with a blinding panic.

but then you hear a meow, soft and faint. gradually, you calm down and call out for grim. please, grim come, you have been traveling too far down this rabbit-hole, both of you need to go home safe and sound.

but he doesn’t come, continuously meowing. a little farther, you can risk going that much for grim.

so you keep going, one of each shoe placed on the sides of the tracks, shaking your bag of tuna treats.

eventually, you come across light. not sparse light like polka dots but bright light that almost blinds you.

they’re celebrating something in a town just a two minute walk away. they are celebrating halloween.

the door on your old life is permanently shut.

iii. outcrowd

grim, you see him. just a bit down the way, he’s weaving through the crowd of people lined up on each side of a giant parade.

you pass by a man breathing fire, another on an elephant, one who is clipping roses from his skin and handing them out to children, another who is — your sight suddenly blurs when two forces hit you with surprising force.

“mama!!” they cry in unison. and two twins with your face but golden eyes gaze up at with love you have never been shown to before by human features.

“i told you two, not to run off during the parade; must i keep you on a leash,” a man with hair split black and white breaks through the crowd.

“oh well now i see why they ran so swiftly,” this mysterious man says as he addresses you. “welcome back, (name); i was worried you weren’t going to make it this year.”

“mama was gonna come this year! dad promised!” the twin on your right says, taking the easy opportunity to slip his hand into yours.

“dad never breaks his promise, uncle crewel! never!” the one on the left clings to your entire arm like a snake.

“i see,” the man tuts, giving you a mischievous wink. “come on then; he also promised to attain this parade,” mumbled under his breath, “if only he stays in the mood to attend this one and not chase his beloved wife around.”

the twins, with a surprising amount of strength, drag you along.

so, against your will, you watch this halloween parade pass by. finally apart of the crowd, loved and cared about by people. not part of that outcrowd that has kept you isolated.

it comes and goes until finally the star of the show arrives, a man cloaked in black, a pumpkin as a head, riding the black stallion from your childhood.

you try to pull away. the twins hold on tight. you watch in betrayal as grim walks up to the horse, only to be scooped lovingly in the arms of the rider, purring away.

that man is going to kill me, you think as he draws closer on that ebony stead of nightmares.

then, finally, he stops his horse in front of you and offers his hand up to you like a man offering up his entire heart, body, and soul. the twin on the right slots your numb hand into the rider’s easily. you are lifted onto the horse, sandwiched between the neck and a warm body, resisting the urge to cry like a baby.

“my wife,” the man behind you breathes amorous on your neck, removing the pumpkin from his face.

a single gold/two gold eyes greet you with such love you almost cry. “how lovely of you to finally join us.”

when he kisses you, you do cry.

[flower1622]

Five: What are you doing in our house?

The Handler: I came to make a deal.

Five: What kind of deal?

The Handler: I want you guys to join me.

Five: No, thanks!

The Handler: Not even for your brother?

Five: What do you mean by that?!

The Handler: We have the one who speaks with the dead. He's such a sweety guy, isn't he? I even found a way to join his life with mine, so if i die, he dies. With Klaus's life connected to mine, my enemies will be your enemies from now on. But, don't worry, he's being taken care of.

Five: Where is he?!

The Handler: Hidden and safe. You can see him after joining me. So, what do you say?

Five and the others look at each other, and then at the Handler.

Five: For Klaus.

Diego: For Klaus.

Ben: For Klaus.

Viktor: For Klaus.

Alison: For Klaus.

Lila: For Klaus.

Luther: No.

Everybody turns to glare at Luther.

Five: Luther!

Luther: I won't. She's evil. I won't become a villain.

The Handler: Poor Klaus, he must be suffering so much right now...

Ben lets his monster out and throws Luther against the wall. Luther stands up, but Diego punches him in the face and in the stomach, making Luther fall on the floor from pain. Five appears in front of him and kicks him hard on his private part. Luther winces from pain and puts his hands on his private part. Five gets Luther by the neck suffocating him and leans over his face.

Five: If Klaus dies because of you, I'm gonna fucking kill you.

Diego: Count me in.

Ben: Me too.

Viktor: Me too.

Lila: Don't forget about me.

Five gets away from Luther and Alison appears in front of his face.

Luther: Alison, please no...

Alison: I heard a rumour that you accepted to join us.

[holylulusworld]

The story

Summary: She's not going to let him down.

Pairing: TFATW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, Bucky feels not worth being loved, written in Bucky’s PoV, fluff

A/N: Inspired by the song “The Story” by Brandi Carlile. Lyrics are taken from the song.

Sequel to: Ruined

No one wants to hear my story. I get it. I’m a relic from the past most people want to forget about.

Why think about dark times and the monsters I worked for? Or what I had to endure.

Even my best friend, the man I considered my brother, left me to go back to better times.

Steve wanted to live the dream he believed he wanted. He didn’t care that I had to hold his hand when he died. 

I’m stuck in this world, with my past hanging over me like a dark cloud. There is nothing I can do about it. 

The only light in my life is her. She makes the world brighter, and my life bearable.

Sometimes I believe I’m not attractive enough for her. I have lines across my face, and scars litter my body and mind. 

She’s perfect, looking like an angel. Every man turns their head when she enters a room. I always wonder why she chose me.

My girl left this perfect guy. He had it all. The looks, a shit-ton of money, and a good reputation. I can’t even hate him. It’s not his fault that my life got fucked up so bad that I can’t even sleep.

No wonder he fought tooth and nail and even played dirty to get her back. He spread rumors and lies about me, and Sam. Telling everyone we turned dark and tried to extort him. 

Y/N refused to go back to him. She even sent the huge diamond ring I’ll never be able to afford back to him. My girl told him to fuck off and grow up.

Still, I hate the man I see in the mirror. He’s not the cocky man going to war, or dancing with the ladies.

I feel like my body and soul are scared so badly that I’m not going to heal. And I don’t mean my missing arm, and the pain I feel most days.

“Baby,” her soft voice brings me out of my thoughts. She breaks the endless circle of self-loathing once again. “Stop it right now.”

Y/N wraps her arms around my waistline from behind. She dips her head to look at me in the mirror. “I love you the way you are,” Y/N says and kisses the scar tissue around my metal arm. “There is not a single thing I’d change about you, baby.”

“Y/N,” I stare at the man in the mirror as she steps next to me to take my hand. “I—”

“Look again, B,“ she says. “For me. I want you to see the man I see.”

I exhale sharply and drop my gaze. It’s so hard to look at myself and like what I see. 

“What do you see in me? I’m…no good.”

“Bucky, look again,” she squeezes my hand, holding it tightly. “Please…”

I lift my gaze, and oddly I see a different man. 

All of these lines across my face Tell you the story of who I am So many stories of where I've been And how I got to where I am

The longer I stare at myself, the more I see.

I see the young man, full of dreams, who tries to lift his small and weak friend up. 

I see the soldier, becoming a man during endless nights spent in fear of getting killed.

I see the prisoner, praying that the monsters capturing him end his life.

I see the man, freed of his shackles as his best friend became a hero.

I see the man fighting alongside Captain America. Brave and fierce.

I see the wounded man, torn apart and put back together by the enemy.

I see the Winter Soldier.

I see the man buying plums first thing after he escaped his handlers.

I see the man fighting alongside his best friend.

I see the man losing it all again.

I see the man finding love when he is about to give up.

“I’m nothing without you, doll. You helped me become this man too,” I dip my head to glance at my girl. “I want you to look at yourself too and see the woman I see.”

She smiles, and we look at the mirror again. Together.

But these stories don't mean anything When you've got no one to tell them to It's true, I was made for you

“You came a long way, Bucky,” she says. “I know that there are still things you don’t want to talk about. But if you are ready, I’ll be here to hold your hand. Always.”

“Always.”

Tags in reblog.