#and before she makes him into a rag and shakes him like a dog; her adrien is whistling for her to stop

[rubywillkins]

Hello! Can me and daniel ricciardo order a mocha add a shot of espresso with almond milk and skim milk

for and appetizer we would like bruschetta, hot dogs, and fish and chips

main course we would like habanero bbq shrimp,beef tenderloin,beef cheese rolling,potato gnocchi,grilled pizza, chicken nachos, and honey garlic chicken with and sparkling water please.

Sure Darling❤️

Daniel Riccardo|

Close Enough To Hate

Pairing Daniel × fem reader

Warning rough sex, p in v, explicit

mocha enemies to lover(rivals) shot of espresso rough sex almond milk vaginal sex skim milk dry humping bruschetta edging hot dogs size kink fish and chips hickeys habanero bbq shrimp “It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.”, beef tenderloin “I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.”,beef cheese rolling “Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!” potato gnocchi “Shh, just look at me, baby.” grilled pizza “Are you holding back? Don’t.” chicken nachos “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” honey garlic chicken “You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck." sparkling water after care

“I’ll seek you out, flay you alive / One more word and you won't survive…”

The paddock buzzed with tension after the race, but none of it compared to the electricity between Daniel Ricciardo and Y/N.

They'd been toe-to-toe all weekend — lap times neck-and-neck, elbows out in every overtake, and venom-laced banter whenever they crossed paths. She didn’t even remember how it started, only that it never stopped. And neither of them seemed interested in backing down.

“Third,” Daniel drawled as he passed her in the hallway. “Not bad. For someone who swore she’d leave me in the dust.”

Y/N didn’t turn. “First in qualifying. First in pole. First in your nightmares, apparently.”

He laughed — cocky, rough, that dangerous kind of amused. “Nightmares? No, sweetheart. That tight little suit you wear? Definitely more fantasy.”

She whipped around, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. “You’re disgusting.”

His eyes flicked down. Slowly. Intentionally. “And you’re shaking. Is that anger, or something else?”

“You think this is a game?” she hissed, stepping into his space.

He didn't flinch. Not when she shoved his chest. Not when her lip curled in fury.

If anything, his smile widened. “Isn’t it?”

Ten minutes later, they were in the driver lounge, door locked. Breath ragged. Bodies tangled.

Y/N’s hands were in his curls, yanking as Daniel's mouth crushed hers in a kiss so filthy and desperate, it burned through every layer of hate.

He’d backed her against the wall, hands braced on either side of her head, caging her in. But it wasn’t until his thigh slipped between hers, grinding up, that she broke.

“F-fuck—” she choked out, nails clawing at his shirt, her hips reacting before her brain could catch up.

“That’s it,” Daniel rasped, dragging his lips across her neck. “Ride it, baby. I want you to grind that pretty little cunt against my thigh like it’s all you’ve got.”

She whimpered — actually whimpered — and cursed herself for how easy her body betrayed her. He was fully clothed. So was she. But the friction was brutal, blinding, just enough to make her vision blur at the edges.

He angled his thigh higher, muscles flexing. “It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.” “So needy. And here I thought you hated me.”

“I do,” she gasped, rocking against him harder, chasing a high he wouldn’t let her reach.

Daniel’s hand shot out, gripping her hip hard, forcing her still. She whimpered in protest, nails digging into his arm.

“Don’t be greedy,” he warned, voice thick with dominance. “You’ll come when I let you. Not a second before.”

“You—” She couldn’t even form a sentence. Her legs were shaking, the heat between them unbearable.

His other hand slid under her shirt, calloused fingers tracing the curve of her waist. “So fucking small,” he murmured, lifting her effortlessly by the hips until her back slid higher up the wall. “Bet you’d split open around me.”

Her head fell back with a broken moan. He was everywhere — under her skin, in her head, inside her without even being inside her.

He ground his thigh up again — slow, devastating — and dragged his teeth across the pulse point on her neck. Then, without warning, bit.

Hard enough to make her gasp. Hard enough to bruise.

“You’re gonna walk into the paddock tomorrow wearing my marks,” he growled, licking over the fresh hickey. “Everyone’ll see exactly who got to you.”

Her breath hitched. “You’re insane.”

“Mm.” He chuckled darkly, rolling his hips again, this time pressing his clothed length against her core. Big. Thick. Heavy.

Her body jolted at the contact.

“Oh,” he groaned, voice low and wrecked. “You feel that? That’s what you’ve been teasing for months.”

She shuddered, fingers tangling in his hair. “Please, Daniel…”

He stilled.

That was the first time she’d said his name without spitting it like venom.

“Say it again.”

She hesitated — then whispered it, broken and breathy.

“Daniel.”

His eyes burned into hers. “Beg me.”

She bit her lip, hips moving of their own accord. “Please. Let me finish. Please.”

He leaned in, voice barely a whisper, breath hot against her lips. “No.”

She nearly sobbed when he pulled back — just enough to make her grind against nothing. Every nerve in her body screamed.

Daniel caught her jaw in one hand, forcing her to look at him. “You’ll come when you’re ruined. Not when you’re needy.”

Her chest heaved. She hated him. She hated how much she wanted him.

And she hated that he knew.

But God, when he kissed her again — bruising, possessive — she melted. Completely. And when he moved his thigh again, deliberately slow, she cried out.

“You’re gonna remember this every time you sit in that car,” he murmured, biting down on her collarbone. “Every bump on the track. Every corner you take.”

“Daniel—!”

“Still hate me?”

“…More than ever.”

“Good,” he grinned, voice dripping with cocky sin. “That means we’re just getting started.”

His fingers found her slippery heat, pushing in deep. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. He could tell she wanted more, needed it. He could feel the bruising he was going to give her. He loved it. He added another finger, then another, stretching her. “You like that? You’re going to be soaked and sore by the time I’m through with you. Soaked and sore and wearing my marks.”

Her breath hitched. “I won’t apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.”

Daniel groaned at his name leaving her lips. He brought her to the edge, then pulled his hand away. She whimpered, but he just smirked, backing her up against the car. “Don’t worry”

He flipped her around and shoved her over the table in the lounge, yanking her hips back. He tugged her panties to the side and slammed into her, hard and deep. She cried out, her hands gripping the table for support. “Fuck, baby, are you holding back?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t.”

He grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back. “I won’t. But you’re gonna take it all. Every inch. Every thrust. Every bruise. You’re mine tonight, Y/N. And I’m going to wreck you.”

Daniel drove into her, his pace punishing, his grip on her hair unforgiving. Y/N grunted with each thrust, her body jolting with the force. He could feel her tightening around him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “That’s it, baby,” he growled, “take it. Take every fucking inch.”

He released her hair, his hand sliding down to her throat. He squeezed gently, feeling her pulse race beneath his fingers. She moaned, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor.

“You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter,” He flexed his hips, grinding into her. Don’t push your luck.”

He pulled out, spinning her around. He lifted her up, setting her on the table. Her legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his ass. He thrust back into her, his hands roaming her body, leaving red welts in their wake. “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” He leaned in, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. “You love being used. Being fucked like a dirty little slut.”

“I do,” she panted, her eyes wild. “I love it. I love you.” Her eyes rolled back as he rolled her clit between his fingers.

“I love to hurt you,” he whispered, nipping at her ear. “To mark you. To make you scream.”

His free hand moved to her breast, pinching her nipple through her shirt. She cried out, her body convulsing around him. He could feel her climax building, her inner muscles clenching tightly. He increased his pace, his hips slamming against hers, his cock driving into her relentlessly. “Come for me, Y/N,” he demanded, his voice hoarse. “Come all over my cock.”

“I can’t take anymore!” she cried out, her body trembling.

“You can, and you will,” Daniel hissed, his voice laced with dominance. “I know you can take more. You’re fucking made for this. For me.”

He leaned down, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath hot on her face. “Shh, just look at me, baby.” Keep your eyes on me. I want to see you fall apart.” His fingers dug into her hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her ass, spreading her wider. She whimpered, her body shaking with the effort to hold back her climax.

“Please, Daniel,” she begged, her voice a ragged whisper.

“Please what?” he growled, his hips snapping forward, driving into her with a force that made her scream. “Tell me what you want.”

She shook her head, her eyes watering. “I want to come. I want to come so bad.”

“Then come,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble. “Come for me, Y/N. Let me feel you fall apart around my cock. Your scent is driving me wild. The way you feel is indescribable. You’re so tight, so wet.” Her lips parted. “So ready to take every inch of my cock because you know it’s yours. Because you know you were made for this. For me.”

She moaned, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed over her. He felt her inner muscles clenching tightly around him, her body milking his cock. He groaned, his hips moving faster, his thrusts deeper. He could feel his own climax building, his balls tightening. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted, his voice strained. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

He slammed into her one last time, his body stiffening as he came, his cock pulsing deep inside her. He groaned her name, his body shaking with the intensity of his release. She wrapped her arms around him, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her own orgasm. They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, their breaths ragged. Then, slowly, he pulled out of her, his cock glistening with their combined release.

Absolutely — here’s a detailed Part 2 with aftercare, written in third-person. This follows after their heated encounter in the driver lounge, assuming things went further off-page — intense, rough, and dominant. This part slows down, focusing on emotional intimacy, physical comfort, and the soft side of Daniel Ricciardo that only Y/N gets to see.

The driver's lounge was dim, bathed in a warm, golden hue from the lamp Daniel had left on.

Y/N lay on her back, on the table, breath still catching as the last ripples of sensation faded from her body. Her legs trembled. Her chest glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. Her neck throbbed from where his mouth had left brutal reminders. Her thighs? Raw. Marked from stubble and grip.

She hadn’t expected it to go that far.

And yet… she hadn’t stopped him either.

Daniel lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, watching her with a gaze that was no longer filled with heat but something quieter. Something careful.

“You good?” he asked, voice low and surprisingly soft, like he was afraid to break the moment.

Y/N blinked up at the ceiling. Her voice came out hoarse. “Yeah.”

He brushed a strand of damp hair from her cheek, fingers featherlight. “Was I too much?”

The question made her glance at him. His expression had changed. The arrogance was gone — replaced by concern. His eyes flicked down to the small bruises forming on her hipbones and inner thighs.

She swallowed. “No. You stopped when I needed. You didn’t cross anything.”

He nodded. Still, his thumb gently ran over one of the marks on her waist — a dark spot from where he’d held her too tight. His brows drew together slightly, like he was punishing himself just for leaving them.

Y/N shifted toward him instinctively. “You’re allowed to be rough, Dan. I could’ve said stop.”

“I know,” he said softly, eyes still on her skin. “But you let me go far. I just… want to be sure you feel okay now.”

That caught her off guard. She didn’t expect Daniel Ricciardo, chaos incarnate, to be this careful with her afterward.

But maybe that’s what made it worse. Maybe that’s why it hurt in a different way now — because the gentleness burned deeper than the bruises.

He leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss to the curve of her shoulder. Then another. And another, trailing his mouth softly across every place he’d marked before, like he was trying to soothe them.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m cold.”

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her carefully. Then without hesitation, slid behind her, wrapping himself around her body like a human furnace. His chest pressed to her back. His hand rested over her belly. His lips brushed the side of her head.

“You can breathe now,” he whispered. “We’re not in the paddock.”

She let out a long exhale. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Which part?”

“This. You. Being soft.”

Daniel chuckled into her hair, but the sound was warm, not teasing. “I’ve got layers, baby. You just hate me too much to see them.”

A pause.

“…I don’t think I hate you.”

“Mm. Well,” he whispered, pressing a slow kiss to her neck, “that ruins all the fun.”

Y/N smiled, barely. “You still left hickeys on my neck.”

“I’ll cover them tomorrow. Ice, concealer, whatever you want.”

“You gonna do my makeup too?”

“I’ve seen you race with half your car falling apart. I think I can handle a beauty blender.”

She laughed — softly, tiredly — and then winced as she shifted her hips.

He immediately stilled. “Too sore?”

“Just a little.”

“Okay. Hold on.”

He pulled away for a moment, leaving the room. She heard the faucet run, the soft clink of something glass. When he returned, he had a warm washcloth, a bottle of water, and pain relief balm in his hands.

He knelt by the table, spreading the cloth across her thighs, gently cleaning where he’d been the roughest. She hissed slightly at the sensitivity, but he was patient, murmuring soft apologies under his breath.

Then he massaged the balm into her hips and thighs. Slow, circular motions. Like worship.

“Does that help?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he replied. “I’m not gonna wreck you and walk away.”

He climbed back into table, lying beside her again. She turned to face him this time, finally seeing the way his walls had dropped too.

No smirk. No challenge. Just Daniel.

“Why me?” she whispered. “Out of everyone you could’ve had…”

He tilted his head. “Because you push back. Because you don’t fall for the charm. Because you’re the only one who makes me fight for it. And I don’t wanna be wanted just because I’m me.”

Her throat tightened.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “And maybe,” he added, “because even when you say you hate me, your body tells a very different story.”

She smiled against his lips. “And you like hearing me beg.”

“Oh, I live for it.”

They lay there, tangled and quiet, the fight behind them, and something else — something more — blooming in the silence.

He didn’t need to say it. Neither did she.

But tonight wasn’t hate.

It was the start of something dangerously real.

[ashthesalamipiece]

No Time Like a Bad Time

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Rating: Mature / Explicit (soft smut, implied sex)

Setting: Bakugo's bedroom, evening

Tags: NSFW, semi-public risk, parental interruption, heavy makeout, implied penetration, humor

---

You never made it to the bed.

Your back was against his bedroom wall, legs around his waist, shirt lost somewhere near the door. Bakugo’s mouth was hot and possessive, hands rough as they slid up your thighs, pushing your underwear aside without a second thought.

“Couldn’t wait,” he growled, voice hoarse as he pressed his hips forward, teasing you with slow, maddening friction. “You come over lookin’ like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself?”

You moaned into his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. “We’re gonna get caught…”

“Don’t care.” His hand slipped between your bodies, and the next thing you knew, he was inside you in one slow, claiming thrust.

Your breath hitched, head falling back against the wall as he rocked into you, steady and deep. “Fuck,” you whispered, digging your nails into his shoulders. “Katsuki…”

“That’s right,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Say my name again.”

You were gasping against his mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying and failing. The heat between you was dizzying, his breath ragged in your ear, the sound of skin on skin filling the room—

And then the door slammed open.

“Hey, Katsuki, have you—”

Mitsuki’s voice froze mid-sentence.

You both froze too. Bakugo still inside you, your legs locked around him, his hand gripping your ass, both of you wide-eyed like deer in headlights.

Masaru’s horrified gasp came from behind her.

Bakugo didn’t even turn around. He just rested his forehead on your shoulder and let out the most exhausted sigh of his life. “…Fucking hell.”

You scrambled to yank the nearest blanket off the bed to cover yourself, but there was no real saving this moment.

Mitsuki’s scream could’ve shattered glass. “ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! IN MY HOUSE?! WHILE I’M HOME?! WHAT THE FUCK, KATSUKI?!”

Masaru was already halfway down the hall, muttering something about trauma and therapy.

“OUT!” Bakugo barked, voice cracking like an explosion. “GET OUT!”

“YOU BETTER BE USING A CONDOM!” she shrieked before slamming the door shut with enough force to shake the walls.

Silence.

You blinked up at Bakugo, still inside you, still panting, both of you stunned into stillness.

“…So,” you said, barely able to look at him, “do we finish… or cry forever?”

He groaned. “Gimme ten seconds to reset my soul.”

---

You woke up in Bakugo’s bed tangled in sheets and shame.

The sunlight coming through the window was soft. The room still smelled faintly of sweat and skin and sex. Katsuki was still asleep, one arm draped lazily across your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You considered pretending you were dead. That seemed easier than walking downstairs and facing the two people who had literally walked in on you mid-thrust less than twelve hours ago.

But then—like a horror movie jump scare—you heard Mitsuki yell from downstairs:

“BREAKFAST’S READY, YOU TWO! AND YOU BETTER COME DOWN FULLY DRESSED!”

Bakugo groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. “Nope. I’m faking my death. Tell my mom I’m gone. Left the country.”

You shoved his shoulder. “We have to go. If we don’t, it’ll somehow get worse.”

“I literally had my dick out when she walked in. It can’t get worse.”

You were wrong.

It got worse.

The moment you stepped into the kitchen, Masaru nearly choked on his coffee and refused to make eye contact with either of you. Bakugo kept his head down like a dog in trouble. You sat across from Mitsuki, who smirked like she’d been waiting her entire life for this moment.

“So…” she began, sipping her tea. “Did we have a good night?”

You choked on your juice.

Bakugo snapped, “MOM.”

“Oh relax. I’m not mad anymore,” she said cheerfully, piling eggs onto your plate. “Traumatized, sure. But it’s not like I didn’t know my son was sexually active. He’s loud enough when you’re not here.”

Masaru made a whimpering noise and physically left the room.

You wanted to melt into the chair and disappear.

“Katsuki, I hope you’re not just going at it raw like some idiot. I didn’t raise a dumbass.”

“I—what the hell kind of conversation is this?” Bakugo snapped, ears red. “Stop talking about my dick at the breakfast table!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t been using it in front of me!” she shot back.

You slowly, silently put down your fork. “I’m… gonna go. Pack my stuff. Change my name. Maybe flee the country.”

Mitsuki smiled sweetly. “Take your time, sweetheart. You were excellent under pressure.”

You didn’t come back for breakfast again for two months.

[hysteria-things]

based off of this

BEREAL

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the bereal notification goes off when you and your boyfriend are in an intimate situation.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, spanking, hair pulling, dumbification, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 631

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: DID NOT MEAN TO RELEASE THIS LATE BUT I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT SINCE I REACHED THE POST LIMIT AGAIN😭

but anyway matt/chris will be back tomorrow!

nate’s phone blows up with notifications on the nightstand from the DA BOYZ group chat with nick, matt, and chris — but he’s too busy to check it now.

moaning loudly, your hands clutch at the pillow your head is lying on. your knuckles are white, eyes rolling back so far in your head. it’s been forty-five minutes, and you came twice already.

you guys are making a fucking mess, but neither of you cares at this moment. his and your cum combined slap against your thighs, a string of arousal connecting and breaking each time he thrusts into you. you mumble something into the pillows, but it’s so incoherent that it sounds like a moan.

his hand is wrapped tightly around your neck, the other one running up and down the small of your back. he’s so deep inside your cunt that you seriously don’t know how he does it.

drool drips down your chin and onto the sheets below, body becoming rag doll-like when your grip starts to loosen and you start to rock violently to the speed of the way he’s plowing hard into you with no mercy. “there she is; getting fucked stupid on my cock because that’s all you have to fucking live for.”

only groaning in response, you start to see specks of white every time you blink. your pussy is so tight around his dick that it makes it hard for him to move. nate’s so balls deep that it feels like he’s in your throat.

silenced screams go past your lips as the headboard bangs rapidly against his bedroom wall, his tip brushing against your g-spot for the nth time tonight. he moans, grabbing your ass and jiggling it before slapping it. “might have to put my kid in ya.” he hisses, giving it another hit. “i need to breed this pussy full. you let me use it so well.”

catching a glimpse at his lit phone screen, he sees a specific notification pop up:

⚠️time to bereal⚠️

2 min left to capture a bereal to see what your friends are up to!

he smirks, grabbing his phone and opening the app. he points the camera to his face as the time counts down. eyes hooded and lips swollen, a handful of hickeys decorate his neck in red and purple, along with a few scratch marks on his chest.

pressing the white button at the bottom of the screen, he grips the top of your hair to yank your head off the pillow. he quickly turns his phone around, the back camera getting your face into view.

nate waits patiently a few seconds for the picture to render, letting go of your head so he can upload it. this is the first time he’s seen what you look like all night.

strands of hair are disheveled or stuck to your forehead from sweating, eyes crossed with your tongue sticking out like a dog. that poor brain of yours thinking only about nate’s cock fucking the shit out of you.

“i’m cu-mming.” you hiccup, shaking violently as you’re overstimulated from three hard orgasms. the boy behind you licks his lips, stopping deep before spurts of his hot cum fill your womb.

seconds later, reactions come flooding in on his post. some are from peers from high school, while the rest are from the crew.

madi’s eyes are wide, her hand covering her mouth.

nick looks disgusted, his face half out of the frame.

matt’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, mouth hanging open in complete shock.

last but not least, chris smiles widely at the camera with a big thumbs up.

matthew.sturniolo: oh brother

nicolassturniolo: NATHAN DOE.

user: she’s living the dream, i’m afraid…

madifilipowicz: 😟

user: HE HAS BITCHES???

christophersturniolo: get that pussy bro😝

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @stellarsturns @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2

[allmightstoehair]

— ➔﹒ { ㅤ꒰ — No Idea ꒱ }.’ㅤ ۪ ୧, Katsuki Bakugo—

GENRE: established relationship | slice of life oneshot | post-timeskip. PAIRING: timeskip!bakugo x fem!reader

SUMMARY: After a long, grueling mission, Pro Hero Katsuki Bakugo returns home to find chaos—his kids running wild and his exhausted spouse barely holding it together.

❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵

“Mori! Stop using your Quirk on your brother!—“ you say with a high tone as you try to keep the kids from literally killing each other. They’re scrambling to get to each other and you have your hands grasping their shirts to keep them apart. Your hair is messy, clothes filled with food that went everywhere when Kaisuo, your son, got upset with you over having to eat his whole plate. Mori was trying to use her Quirk to get back at Kaisuo for shoving her in the gut. You would’ve expected they’d be more behaved since Katsuki was their dad, but when he was at home, they ran the household.

Heavy boots thudded against the hardwood as Katsuki Bakugo trudged into the kitchen. You didn’t hear him. Sweat matted his forehead and his blonde hair stuck to it. His uniform was torn at the edge, soot smudged down the side of his face, and his gauntlets hung loosely at his sides. Sweat clung to his skin, hair matted to his forehead.

“The hell is going on?” You looked at him with deadpan exhaustion, arms still extended, hands still clutching your children by the shirts like unruly shopping bags.

“Hey,” you said, breathless. “You’re home.”

You dropped your arms, finally releasing them as they sat on the floor with defeated little plops. “They were trying to kill each other. Kaisuo threw mashed potatoes at me. Mori almost electrocuted the dog. There’s something growing in the corner of the kitchen that may or may not be alive now.”

Katsuki tilted his head. “…Mashed potatoes?”

“Don’t ask.”

A beat of silence passed. You let your hands fall to your sides, the shake in your breath more emotional than physical. “I really tried today, Kats.”

He walked up to you without a word and cupped the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. You didn’t fight it. You just sagged into him like your bones had been waiting for permission. The kids just stared up at you both, lips parted as they saw the interaction. Katsuki kissed your head and let you go. “Lemme handle it,” he murmured.

“You just came from work, baby, I got—“

“Go sit’own,” he put his hand on your waist and moved you to the side.

You nodded, finally letting go of whatever thread you were still holding on to. Your knees carried you to the couch before your brain caught up. The moment your body hit the cushions, it was like someone flipped a switch—you melted.

Katsuki turned to the children, arms crossing, the familiar burn of a scowl settling over his face. “So you brats wanna explain to me why you were actin’ like jerks all day? What, does my leaving give you the right to disrespect your mom?” He asks. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to, but it was enough to make the children’s legs buckle under pressure.

Mori’s spark fizzled our instantly and she deflated. They both looked solemn, like they felt bad almost immediately. Their eyes darted to the floor in shame and Kaisuo kicked his foot to scrape the floor. “So you’re not gonna talk.” Katsuki said, more of an obvious statement than a question. He shifted his weight and dropped his arms, his tone sharpening just enough to dig in. “You think keepin’ quiet’s gonna fix what you did? That silence counts as sorry?”

“No,” Mori said softly, almost a whisper.

“We just didn’t think—” Kaisuo started, but Katsuki cut him off with a raised hand. “You didn’t think. You acted. Like punks,” he said, voice even but edged. “Your mom’s been run ragged all damn day tryin’ to keep you alive and fed and happy. You treated her like crap. And I don’t give a damn how ‘bored’ or ‘mad’ you were—you don’t treat her like that.“

He let the words sit for a moment, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Start cleaning the mess you made. Then you go say sorry to your mom like you mean it. You don’t fix this, we’re training until your arms fall off.” He wasn’t serious about the extensive training, however it was an effective way to get them to do what they were told.

It wasn’t long before the shuffling footsteps of hesitant children made their way back into the living room. Mori clung to the hem of her oversized shirt, fingers twisting it nervously, and Kaisuo stood behind her like he was hoping her apology would cover them both.

Katsuki didn’t say anything as he made his way over. He just tilted his head toward you, giving them the space to make it right. Mori stepped forward first, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry for treating you bad, mama. It wasn’t nice and you should be treated better.” She murmured. Kaisuo’s brows furrowed, a familiar expression you’d seen on his father. He was reluctant, and the most stubborn so it was hard for him to apologize.

“Sorry, mom. We shouldn’t have yelled—or used our Quirks on each other—or threw food—“ his sniffled, holding his arm in shame as he cried with an angry expression.

Your heart ached and almost immediately, you kicked yourself off of the couch, crouching to their height to wrap them both in a gentle embrace. They shuffled over carefully and sat down on either side of you, heads ducked low.

A kiss to each of their heads. “I know you’re still learning. And I know sometimes it’s hard. But you two have to understand—when you act wild like that, and you don’t listen, it wears me down. I love you, but I need you to help me too.”

They both nodded. “We’ll do better.” The kids said simultaneously. You smiled and looked at Katsuki who huffed and made his way out of the living room because he knew you had it handled.

“Thank you. Now, both of you go brush your teeth and get into bed. You have that playdate at the Kaminari’s.” You say as your grip on them loosens. They both kiss your cheek and run off to their bedroom. With Katsuki’s absence, you wander off into the house looking for your spouse. After finding him in your bedroom, you smile. He was in the middle of pulling his briefs up and following them with a pair of black shorts, seemingly fresh out the shower. His chest adorned with scars he’s had since he was a teen. The sight always tugged at your heart. You trudge lightly into the room and he doesn’t look up at you. He knows you’re there.

“How was the mission?” You ask him. Katsuki shrugs and rolls his shoulders.

“It was fine.” He responded flatly. You could understand his exhaustion, and something weighing him down that he probably wasn’t saying. You move to sit on your knees on the bed, and see him sit beside you. Shifting yourself closer, you watch as he leans on the headboard, looking at a packet of paperwork in his hands. His glasses are on and you look up, biting your lip stupidly at the sexy sight.

“You’re so handsome when you wear those,” he looks at your expression and snorts. “So I’m ugly when I don’t, huh?”

You blink. “No! Shut up you know what I mean!” He chuckled, low and gravelly in his chest, his fingers still holding onto the packet but his attention now fully on you. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, adjusting the glasses on his face with one hand.

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, resting your chin on his shoulder, peering down at the paperwork like it was a forbidden mystery. “What’s that for?” you asked, your voice soft, more curious than anything else.

He let out a slow breath, the kind that came from long days and longer thoughts. “Just some agency crap. Assessments. Scheduling. Bullshit about partnerships.”

You hummed, your fingers brushing along his bicep absentmindedly. You turn your face to press your lips onto the smooth skin. “Mm. Sounds exciting.” You tease sarcastically.

He sighs and tosses the packet aside on the nightstand. He glances in your direction again and smirks.

Katsuki smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching up with that familiar cocky ease. “Y’know, I should’ve known you weren’t actually interested in the paperwork. You just wanted an excuse to touch up on me, you little shit.”

You scoffed, dragging your lips along his arm again with exaggerated slowness. “Can’t I show appreciation for my husband’s hard-earned muscles without being accused of something?”

“You’re such a dumbass,” he cooed, leaning towards you to catch your lips in a passionate kiss. He grunted, moving his hands to grab your waist as you pulled yourself up and onto his lap. Katsuki groaned, your weight pressing down on him further relieving the tension he felt from the hard labor of today.

Katsuki’s fingers slid beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused palms dragging up the soft skin of your back as he let out another low groan. “Damn it… you have no idea how much I needed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and frayed at the edges. He was awfully touchy, and as long as as you’ve known him, he’s never this needy.

“‘Missed me, hm?” You mumble against his lips and he furrows his brows.

“You have no idea.”

[revelboo]

Hey, I just wanna say that I love your series about human suddenly popping out of knowhere, and the bots have no choice but to take care of them. Even proceed to become attached to them, lmaoo

I enjoy reading all of your works and it sometimes makes me giggle and smile when there's something funny that happened. But, I'm also curious. Do all of them, if not some, of bots do really can let go of their favorite humans? Yknow send them back home by using their own ship or smth?

And im also more curious about each humans own perceptives that they're bleep out? That they are not in the spaceship anymore and got home safely? Curious, what's all their own reactions looks like

But either way, I love your works!!! 🌹♥️♥️

None of them are exactly happy about it…Angst and drama and hurt

MTMTE What If Angst Scenario Just Gone- Aftermath Pt 2

Megatron’s

• Doubling over and throwing up, your hands are shaking. You’re shaking uncontrollably. Horror twisting through you as you realize you’re back home. No longer on the Lost Light with Megatron. That you can’t feel that warm, reassuring hum of him at the edge of your awareness. And you’re back in your house, standing in your dark kitchen hearing your breathing grow ragged. Panic rising through you because you have no way to get back to him or even contact him. And what about the spark? Hadn’t been able to sense it before, but with his bond just gone, you’re terrified that’s lost, too.

Scavengers’s

• Staggering and buck naked, someone screams, but you’re in agony. Realizing what happened, because you remember this pain all too well. You’re back, standing in the middle of the office you work in. And your knees give out on you, hearing someone screaming hysterically that you’d just appeared out of nowhere. Where’s Spin? You need to get back to him, he gets so worried when he can’t find you.

Cyclonus and Tailgate’s

• A horn blares and tires scream as a car swerves to miss you and you can’t get out of the way. Can’t get to your feet from where you’d appeared in the middle of the street. Hear someone yelling but you’re too shell shocked to respond. Can’t find them. Can’t sense either of them and panic seizes you by the throat. You’re back on Earth alone. And you need them, the twin sparks you’re carrying need them to survive, to replenish the bond. Someone grabs your shoulder and you start crying, terrified. Lashing out in panic.

Tarn’s

• Head pounding, you stagger into a shelf and canned vegetable clatter to the ground and go rolling. Knees hitting the tiles, you double over in pain. And it’s as agonizing this time as it was last time, like being ripped apart. When your head lifts, there’s an old woman with a cart gaping at you and you really hope she’s not about to have a stroke, because going by her expression, she definitely saw you just poof into existence.

Swerve’s

• Hear your kid brother scream as he falls out of his gaming chair and it’d be funny if you didn’t feel like you’re being eviscerated with something incredibly blunt. Gagging, you stumble into his dresser as the door bangs open. That’s right. You’d been home visiting when you got blipped. “Swerve?” You gasp, as you collapse.

Drift’s

• Knees going out on you, an elbow hits the ground and it’s the distant sound of a dog barking that breaks through the pain. You’re back? Shaking, you fall over in the dew soaked grass, limbs trembling. It’s worse. So much worse than when you’d gotten ripped to the Lost Light. Hadn’t really wanted this. Hadn’t wanted to leave Drift or Ratchet, not when those two feel more like home than your own home ever did. You’re back, but you feel like you’re dying.

Previous

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[jaythewriter]

The greed

This is a one-shot fan fic between Remmick and the reader. This fic contains. NSFW themes such as: Biting, femdom, begging, Creampies, edging, blood, light monster fucking, cannibalism, character wanting to be consumed, light obsession and slight punishing, p in v, small bit of praise and a little ma'am/ sir kink.

1.4 k words Enjoy

You have been warned

You didn't know how long it had been since he came into your life. He'd just always been there watching, waiting for you to give in to him, yearning for you to say the words. It had only been a couple of hours since he bit you. You spent the day cooped up in his arms in the darkened room, stomach growling as you waited for dark.

“Jus a lil longer darlin.” He uttered softly, running his fingers through your hair as you lay beside him. Your teeth ached as you lay there, the scent of your own blood lingering on his lips driving you crazy.

It wasn't til he sat up that you even knew it was night.

He simply brushed your cheek with the back of his hand to clear you of your own drool before finding you something pretty to wear. You roamed the night knocking on door to door until you got an answer.

You slumped down on the woman's porch as you heard the wood from the inside groan with every step she took towards the door.

“P-please help me!” You had whimpered from the other side, the hunger helping you sound oh so desperately hurt. “I don't think I could stand it no mo!” You wailed as the door opened. You could smell it immediately, the pity and her perfume as she reached for you.

The coolness of your skin is what made her drag you in and she immediately tried to nurse you. “M'sorry.” You uttered softly before tackling the poor woman to the ground and nearly ripping out her jugular though the act was violent you still cradled her head with your bloody fingers you simply kissed at her torn flesh as if it would make it any better.

When her heart stopped you didn't let go… You could feel how quickly the house became cold, how empty it seemed now that she was gone. You attempted to cling to her warmth til the floorboards started to creak, you hadn't even noticed he was there. “My, my mo ghrá.” Remmick practically moaned as he watched the blood dripping from your lips.

He had watched as you held her, kissed her with a final goodbye and he envied it. He envied her, he wished he was the one

You had fed from, he wished you kissed him, held him like you did that woman. “What a sight.” He uttered before brushing his thumb over your bloody lips, leaning in to lap at your chin sharing the blood you had just consumed.

He was taking in your expressions, teary eyes, the slight horror etched on your features soon to be followed by pure bliss.

“Fuckin hell… take me.” He damn near whimpered grazing his fingers along your bloody fangs. “Feed from mi like that.” The whine he let out sounded like a pathetic mutt left out in the rain.

“Fuck darlin… please?” He cried as he pulled you closer by your blood soaked collar, trying to pry you from the colder body on the floor. “M’full.” You practically purred seemingly still coming down from your high. “J-jus a bite.” He stammered against your lips, his accent growing thick before he licked at the blood starting to dry at the corners of your lips.

His tongue was desperate, needy as he pinned you against the bloody floor boards. He continued to lap at the blood along your skin like a starved man, his fangs grazing where your pulse used to be, his hips buckling against yours as he continued to plead. Until you pulled his head back, letting your lips ghost his skin just enough to leave him shaking.

He nearly came right then and there. When you sink your teeth into his skin you could have sworn you've finally tasted sin. A ragged sound between a growl and a whine tore through his throat. You could still feel him humping against you like a dog in heat, uttering pleads in his native tongue. Clawed fingers are already trying to tear the fabric away from your hidden skin.

You could feel the thick glob of drool pooling as you reached for his face pulling his desperate lips against yours. The kiss was greedy, rough, animalistic as you reached between the two of you to undo his belt you nearly flipped him on his back in the process, your hips straddling his as you finally got the loop free.

“Such a greedy boy.” You uttered softly pulling the theater through the loops of his pants. “I couldn't even enjoy her…” You murmured softly pinning his hands to the floor boards using the belt as a restraint, bounding his hands together. “M'sorry dove, I am, I- I didn't mean-” You had cut him off pressing your bloody fingers past his begging lips to shut him up.

“Shhh you gon make it up to me.” You hummed softly watching as he sucked your digits clean.”You understand?” You asked softly, pulling his bottom lip with your saliva-covered fingers. “Yes, ma'am.” He whimpered out watching as you sucked his saliva clean. You kept your eyes on him as you tore the rest of your ruined dress away.

Simply standing to tower over him as he laid there at your mercy. You ripped the side of your panties letting the torn fabric drape against your thigh before taking your seat. His lips were eager, hungry and oh so needy you could feel every desperate whine, every pathetic moan as he ate you like a starved man. You held his arms down as you brushed your clit against his nose, indicating that he couldn't touch not yet at least.

The way you moaned, the way your hips moved against his lips only drove him to work harder to drink as if it would be his last. His fingers biting into the leather trying to picture it as your hips as you enjoyed your ride. It won't long before you came, back arching at the agonizing bliss that ran through you. A loud, lewd moan tearing from your lips as you rode the orgasm out.

When you lifted your hips he reached but you were quicker slamming his arms right back down. “Unt unt.” You uttered softly and you swear you could see tears clouding his eyes, you could hear it in his breathing, you could smell it how badly he wanted to feel you, how badly he wanted to touch you. “Darlin please?” He whined hips bucking ever so slightly with need.

“You ask me again and I won't touch ya at all.” You hissed as you pulled his fly down ever so slightly. You reached out fingers grazing the bulge in his drawls and he hissed. It was like music to your ears. “Atta boy.” You cooed sweetly as you watched him spring free from his confines.

You had leaned up once more just to lick the drool from his lips. You felt his body coil like a spring under you as you made your way back down with little kisses and bites. When your fingers brushed against his angry tip he made a noise between a growl and a whine.

He bit his lip, your words still clinging to his mind if he uttered anything he knew you'd leave him like that. He simply just watched as you straddled his hips he watched as you made his cock weep once more before pushing him in.

You heard a slight thump sound as you witnessed him throw his head back in ecstasy. You went slowly, tearing a cry from his throat. His fingers seemed to dig into the cool, bloody floorboards.

“Mmm you're salivating again.” You moaned softly rolling your hips in a slow agonizing pace. You lifted and his hips followed, then you stilled, you gave him a look and he swallowed hard and thick before your hand went fast across his face.

“I ain't told ya to move, did I?” You hissed gently cradling the already fading bruise on his cheek. “N-no ma'am.” He mewled as your thumb coddled his cheek. “You lucky I don't leave here to rot, cold and undone.” You uttered before continuing picking up your pace, giving him what you knew he craved most, bringing your other hand to his chest to balance yourself. It wasn't long til you were both howling like mating wolves cumming undone together in pure bliss.

“All that worked up my appetite again.” You uttered softly, giving him a lopsided grin.

[m6cabre]

Late Mornings

overview: a late morning with him and a little someone else.

warnings: bad joke at the end

written in third person, no use of "y/n." reader is referred to with female pronouns and terms of endearment. this is short, i'm sorry, but i'm going try to start posting more. also, my birthday's tomorrow!!

how had she managed to sleep in to 10:30 with a four month old? she married a good man. said man had been ensuring that she slept until she woke up, not when the baby did. and, oh, she loved him more and more every time he did it—which was daily.

after making herself a cup of orange pekoe tea with a teaspoon of sugar and a teaspoon of honey, she headed to the garage. she had assumed that jacob and constance were there, as the rest of the house was empty. she opened the door, stepping down the two cement steps. and, her assumption was proven correct. constance sat in her bouncing chair, covered with her small silk blanket and gnawing on tail of her whale shark plushie. her eyes were focused on her father, who was changing the tires on his motorcycle.

the garage door was open, fog heavier than the usual layer of fog settled outside. goosebumps rose on her skin as she shuffled over to the bench beside constance's bouncing chair, the cement growing colder. she sat on the bench, noticing that the little girl had on a long-sleeved onesie. she smirked softly, gently lifting the blanket. the onesie had legs and little socks adorned constance's feet. she fixed the blanket gently, noticing that constance was still focused on jacob.

of course he had ensured that she'd be warm.

she had spaced out while looking at the baby, having not noticed jacob getting up from his knelt position and wiping his hands on a rag. he sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her neck.

"how'd you sleep?" he whispered.

"good," she replied, sipping her tea, "love that you let me sleep in."

"always," he breathed.

constance began to coo, looking up at her parents with wide, curious eyes. oh, how much she looked like jacob. his deep brown eyes, olive tan skin, deep brown hair. all had been passed down to her. now, the gene? they didn't know. she insisted that she had this gut feeling that constance had the gene, yet jacob always told her the chances were there but it wasn't promised.

constance's coos turned into frustrated whines and huffs, her eyebrows furrowed as she reached futilely for her father. jacob huffed out laugh, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before unraveling his arms from her. he stood up from the bench, picking up the baby while keeping the blanket around her. constance immediately relaxed, letting out a faint coo as she curled up against her father's chest. she nuzzled against his t-shirt, that was warm from that unnatural bodily warmth he possessed, her pudgy cheek squished against it.

constance's little eyes were still open. she reached one hand out, making a grabby-hand gesture at her mother before patting her hand on jacob's bicep. understanding what the little girl wanted, she stood and walked over, standing beside jacob with her mug of tea. the baby reached out again, resting her little hand on her wrist. silence fell between the three of them, a comfortable silence. constance's eyes fluttered until they inevitably shut completely. and, in moments, she had fallen asleep.

"she sleeps more than an old dog," she muttered, sipping her tea.

jacob gave her a look, one that drew confusion from her.

"what's the look f—" she paused, going back over what she had said. jacob began walking away, to put constance in her bassinet inside while simultaneously faking annoyance.

"hey! i didn't mean it like that!" she called after him. "but you have to admit, it was comedically perfect."

jacob chuckled faintly, shaking his head as he adjusted the baby in his arms.

— movies masterlist

— main masterlist

[hihomeghere]

Right Person, Wrong Time Part two / John Marston x f!reader

Summary : You’ve tried to pretend that night with John never happened. But you can’t ignore him for much longer, especially not when Abigail asks you to talk to him

Word count : 2k

Warnings/tags : Cursing, reader is pushed against a tree, angst that leads to fluff, platonic Abigail x reader, John x reader, graphic mention of sex, mention of past pregnancy (not readers), John’s a deadbeat dad, alcohol, past Abigail x John, let me know if I missed any

not proof-read, I'm lazy

Divider by @saradika

“You make him better, ya know?” Abigail’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Almost making you drop your gun as you ran the oiled rag over the barrel. 

“Pardon?” You asked, turning to glance at her. She still wasn’t looking at you, instead her gaze was affixed to Jack as he sat in the grass.

“You make him… I don’t know- just better.” She said with a small shrug.

“Jack?” You asked furrowing your brows as you looked over at Jack before back at her.

“No- Christ I’m not talking about Jack.” She huffed, exasperated that you hadn’t managed to read through the lines. “I’m talking about John.”

Oh. You pursed your lips, running the rag up and down the barrel, not saying a word.

“Don’t know how you could think that.” You muttered, shame creeping up your neck along with a deep fuchsia. 

“Really?” She asked, raising a brow, “Well I-“ she let out a sound between a scoff and a sigh. “Course you weren’t around when he got bad.” She said, shaking her head. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, setting your revolver down next to you. Turning to face her head on.

“When you left he… he would just sulk. Walking around, moping, picking fights.” She listed off, rolling her eyes. “Hell, the only time he wasn’t baring his teeth like a damn dog was when…” She trailed off, her lips a thin line. It didn’t take a genius to know what she was alluding to. You didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. John had acted like Abigail was the moon and stars before you had run off. To think that he actually missed you. That was near unbelievable.

You scuffed the toe of your boot against the dirt, painfully aware of the silence stretching between the two of you. “Then I got pregnant and then Jack was born. I thought… I thought he might- he might’ve come to terms with being a father once he was actually here.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “But he was never the same after you left.” She said, her voice taking on a melancholy tone as her blue eyes met yours. 

“Abigail, he’s an idiot alright?” You started, shaking your head. Trying to hold onto your breakfast as your stomach churned. “The damn fool probably realized what he’d been missing out on-“ She cut you off by barking out a laugh.

“Don’t go trying to sell me shit, telling me it’s ’chocolate cake’.” She shook her head. “It ain’t me or the boy that’s suddenly turned his disposition around, it’s you.” 

You looked away from her, your eyes on Jack as he played.

“Abigail-“

“No. You listen to me.” She said, grabbing your hands, her grip ironclad. “You’re the only damn person in this gang that he gives the time of day.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I just- maybe you could talk to him about Jack?” She asked, tilting her head to meet your eyes. “The boy needs his father.” She squeezed your hands, and your heart clenched in response. “If not for me… then for Jack?”

What the hell were you supposed to say, no?

“Yeah… yeah okay.” You nodded, sighing through your nose.

“Ya mean it?” She asked, a smile tugging at her lips, “Oh, thank you.” She pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Alright, alright.” You chuckled, gently pushing her away. “I’ll talk to him.”

If you weren’t such a damn chicken you would have done it that second. But you were just as much of a coward as he was. Poetic, wasn’t it?

A week had passed since the incident. The incident where you came on his cock, his seed still dripping out of you as you ordered him out of your tent. The moment you had dreamt of for years, became your biggest nightmare. Your stomach flip-flopping every time his eyes met yours from across camp. You could never escape it, escape him.

When you saw him push the hair back from his face, all you could think of was how it felt through your fingers. How his lips felt against yours, on your neck. How his teeth felt digging into the column of your throat.

You were pathetic. On top of all of that you had gone right back to being Abigail’s friend, when you had betrayed her in the worst way possible. You were no better than him, returning to her with your tail behind your legs. The only difference between you and John, is that she didn’t know the atrocity you had committed against her, against Jack. Sure, they weren’t together anymore, but it didn’t make you feel any better.  

So maybe that’s why you were doing this for her, as some atonement for your transgressions. The sun was slowly setting as you walked through camp, your stomach tied in knots as you looked for John. You found him near the campfire, pulling a bottle up to his lips as Javier played the guitar. His melodic voice carried through the camp, even if you couldn’t understand what he was saying, it was beautiful.

You could feel John’s eyes boring into you as you glanced over at Javier before turning your attention back to him.

As your eyes met, it was like a crack of lightning. The air suddenly turned charged between the two of you.

“Can I talk to you John?” You asked, sighing deeply.

“No.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long drink. You cringed as the liquor overflowed out of his mouth, running down his chin. He coughed, wiping away the liquid with the back of his hand. 

“You serious?” You scoffed, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Yeah.” He grumbled, narrowing his eyes as he reclined in his chair. Spreading his legs as the bottle hung loosely from his fingers. 

“Are you already drunk?” You asked, narrowing your eyes..

“Does it matter?” He huffed, rolling his eyes. Clearing his throat before bringing the bottle back to his lips. You clenched your jaw, his words igniting a fire in your belly. You stalked over to him, grabbing the bottle out of his hands.

“What the hell?” He growled, jumping to his feet as he tried to take the bottle out of your grasp. If he hadn’t been inebriated, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.

You held it out of his grasp, pushing him backwards. “Stop.” You huffed, not breaking eye contact.

“Fine. I didn’t want it anyway.” He threw his hands up in the air, beginning to stumble away from you and the fire. You sighed, rolling your eyes as you set the bottle down in the dirt before following after him. 

“John!” You called, chasing after him as he walked farther away from camp and further into the nearby trees. “John, stop!” You started to jog, losing sight of him.

He moved out from the darkness. His hands fisting the collar of your shirt, as he pushed you back up against a tree. 

“What do you want, huh?” He growled, his body a hard line against yours. ”Now you want to talk after you’ve been walking round camp, fucking torturin’ me?” He stepped closer, caging you in further against the tree. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of the liquor on his breath. 

“The hell you talking about?” You huffed, pushing back against him.

“You, damn it!” He huffed, his eyes narrowing into slits as he slammed you back up against the tree. 

“Get off of me!” You growled, glaring up at him.

“You wanted to talk, let’s fucking talk.” He held your body to the tree before he let go, stumbling backwards. “You’re the one who wanted to talk so damn bad so talk.” Your body finally caught up with your mind as you moved towards him.

“What difference would it make, you probably won’t remember this in the morning, too piss drunk.”

“Yeah? Well I remember that night.” He snarled, crowding in on you. “You can go around pretending like it didn’t mean nothin’, like I didn’t mean nothin’.” You swallowed thickly, heat flooding your cheeks.

“That ain’t what happened-“

“Then what the hell did happen?” He shouted, throwing his hands up. They fell to his sides as he stared at you. “I… Christ I know I messed up before but I… I can’t go round pretendin’ like nothing happened that night.” He sighed, his anger replaced by something more somber.

”You… you have a family, John.” He sighed, sitting down on a nearby stump, his head in his hands. 

“You think I don’t know that?” He asked, raising his head.

“You sure don’t act like it.”

“You don’t know how damn hard it is.” He huffed, shaking his head. “I don’t- Abigail is a good woman but she ain’t the one for me. Jack- well he deserves someone who knows how to be a father, a better man.” He muttered, running a hand down his face.

“You’re that man, John.” You sighed, “Sure, you were a fool and a coward-“ He glared up at you, “but you came back. Now, you just have to try.”

“It’s not that simple.” He muttered, shaking his head. “It’s- everything used to be so damn easy.” He ran his hand down his face. “Before- before you left.”

You pursed your lips, crossing your arms as you looked down at your boots. 

“Now Abigail and you are always mad at me and… and now there’s Jack.” He sighed trailing off, “I just- I want things to go back to the way they were.” He said, his eyes finding yours in the pale light of the moon. Your heart clenched uncomfortably as you swallowed past the lump in your throat.

“It can’t.” You sighed, walking over to him. “But that doesn't mean it can’t get better.” You said, offering him a weak smile. He stared up at you, his brows pulled together tightly. “Things aren’t ever gonna be the way they were. That’s just life.” You said with a small shrug, “We made our decisions and we gotta live with them.”

“I shoulda’ chose you.” He mumbled, lowering his gaze.

“But you didn’t.” You said sitting down next to him, “And now we got Jack, and he is one of the best if not the best kid there is.” You smiled, nudging his shoulder. He ran his hand down his face again, rubbing at the stubble on his cheek.

“He gets it from his mother.” He sighed, looking up at you.

“He’s got a good chunk of you in him, Marston. The best parts.” You said, “Hasn’t learned all the asshole traits you possess yet.”

“Shut up.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. The two of you sat together in comfortable silence, looking up at the star filled sky. 

“Did you miss me,” You asked, not daring to look over at him, “when I left?” You bit your cheek, waiting for his response.

“Course I did.” He said softly, looking over at you. “Every day.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes moving from his to his lips. Before you could second guess yourself, you moved forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands immediately moved to cup your cheeks, pulling you closer to him. You held onto each other as though the other would fade away into the darkness that surrounded you. The taste of whiskey invaded your senses as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, claiming you for his own. 

The two of you slowly broke apart, resting your foreheads against each other. 

“I gotta talk to Abigail.” He mumbled, letting out a small sigh. 

“Yeah you do.” You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“You ain’t gonna pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow right?” He asked after a moment, a sense of vulnerability in his tone. 

“No way in hell, Marston.” You chuckled, nudging your nose against his. “You gonna remember this tomorrow?” You quipped. 

“Don’t know how I could ever forget this, darlin’.”

[cuinaminute229]

Into danger I will run

pairing: Maria Hill x reader

...

Trickles of moonlight brush past winding branches and delicate leaves as it reaches for the ground below. A distant alarm blares flashing red, shattering the silence of the night. 

Something happened, someone’s missing. 

Maria doesn’t have much time. 

She grinds her teeth as she pushes through the underbrush, her boots digging into the ground with each step and her shoulder straining under the weight of dragging you half conscious with her.  

There is no time to catch her breath, no time to remember the exact path she took to reach the prison. Time is against her, it’s racing at her back with biting teeth. 

The sound of barking dogs makes her groan in annoyance, of course they would let those canines out. It’s time for a chase. 

This is not how she wanted the day to go. Her schedule was packed as it was, she didn’t need you getting kidnapped and in need of saving to cram its way into her calendar. 

She’s going to ring Bishop’s neck when she sees him again. 

As she pushes past a marked tree, grabbing the ribbon she used, the sudden weight of your body as your legs give out on you makes her stumble. 

“Hey, hey come on,” Maria looks at you, pauses for just a moment. The heavy sounds of your ragged breaths tells of the pain you’re in, it took hours to find you. She doesn’t know the extent of your injuries, at this moment she has no clue. All she can do is get you out of here as soon as possible. 

“We’re almost there,” She glances behind you with narrowed eyes, the forest is black, the trees even darker. She can’t see past your back, she doesn’t know how close those dogs and rifles are. 

With a slight shake of her hand, she reaches out, threads her fingers through sweaty hair and watches you with vigilance. She needs to get you moving, she needs to reach the clearing. She has a jeep waiting. 

“Maria…” Her name from your lips makes her frown, she tightens her hold on your shoulder just enough to keep you upright. 

“I’m here, I’m right here.” She whispers her reassurance as reaches for the gun at her hip, the dogs are getting closer. 

This isn’t the time to panic, this is honestly the worst time to panic but the moment she starts to feel you go limp, her thoughts are a train wreck. 

“No, no, no, no, I need you to keep your eyes open for me.” She’s sloppy, her panic making her movements rushed as she brushes her hand over your jaw, pats your cheek with urgency. The weight of your head in her hands makes her feel sick. 

The soft sound of a groan, the light brush of fingers at her waist, makes it easier to breathe. She gives you one more second. To breathe, to chase the pain away and tighten your grip on her before she moves. 

With a slow shift of her weight, Maria pushes forwards with a single goal in mind. Reach the clearing. 

Once she gets there, once she can get you into the jeep and starts driving like hell itself is chasing her, then she can call Clint. She can prepare for the flight back to New York. 

“We’re almost there.” Maria whispers under her breath. A reassurance for the both of you as her eyes scan the blackness ahead for any sign of hanging ribbon from branches. 

It wasn’t the best choice to use when scouting the outer area of the prison but there wasn’t time to think properly, it was a trick she learned years ago that was easiest to use when the cell towers were out of the picture. 

The snarling growls and howls of the dogs are rushing through the forest with a speed she despises. Why was it always dogs?

It doesn’t take as long as she thought to find the path, those branches looking familiar under the moonlight. The anticipation of finally seeing the path out of this god damn place urges her fast. The soft sound of pain from you as she all but drags you to the jeep makes her heart hurt. But she’s so close.

She’s extra gentle with you as she buckles you into the passenger seat as a silent apology, her hand is itching to go back to her gun, her shoulders are tight with tension. The sounds are getting louder, she can now hear shouting beneath the dogs. 

The fact that she all but runs to the driver’s side, slams the door almost too loud and jams the keys into the ignition is the moves of a rookie but there is no time. 

Dirt and grass are kicked up by the wheels as she slams on the gas, eyes bouncing from the road ahead and the one behind, if they break through the trees she wants to know. 

It wouldn’t help her now, to know exactly how close they were but her mind wants the knowledge, it would help distract her from the blood on her hands, the blood in her clothes. 

The ride to the safe house feels like an eternity, one hand on the wheel and one holding your own. She talks the entire way, tries to get you to respond. She doesn’t even ask for intel, she doesn't ask why. 

No, her questions are the most random. Her brain is not letting her thoughts move along in an order. 

What’s your favorite color? Blue

Name a city you’ve always wanted to go to? Tecoma

Do you remember what you had for breakfast? Pancakes

Who is your best friend? Natasha

It would be hilarious almost, if Clint knew. If this situation was anything else he’d just tease her about playing 50 questions. 

She almost wishes this was a different situation, she wishes she was home. A movie in the background as she makes dinner with you, soft laughter and pointless jabs filling the kitchen like warm air. 

The soft squeeze of your fingers on her hold pulls her away from the dream, the dark road feels endless with how the moon now hides behind a group of clouds. But the moment she sees the building, she knows that it won’t take long now. The turns are a little tricky and she can’t believe that Tony was the one to even make a safe house here on this abandoned road, the plain house sitting between two farmer’s fields of tall standing wheat. 

It looks so normal she can see his reasoning, it’s like a bystander. Fading into the background, so bland that no attention should be wasted on it. Okay, she’ll give Tony this one point. She still doesn’t like him though. 

“Easy.” Maria lets her voice lower to a whisper, her hold on you is gentle yet steady as she helps you up the front steps of the house. The porch light flickers and she turns to look behind her like it’s a reflex. There is no one, the air is quiet and the jeep is parked against the house enough that anyone would have to come close to see it. 

“I’m okay.” The response falls from your lips before almost collapsing against the front door, her eyes scan you as she brushes her fingers over the stained fabric at your ribs, she knows there are a few that are broken, knows that it must be hell trying to breathe. When you look at her, eyes glassy and skin pale she has to wrestle down the urge to carry you through the door. 

The moment she finds the keys, pushing the door open and turning back to you, she has to fight the smile when you give her a thumbs up and reach out for her.

“I’m surprised you can still stand.” She wonders, kicks the door shut and flicks on the light. The couch isn’t far, facing away from the door at the empty fireplace. 

She helps you over to sit down with slow steps. It takes only a moment for her to turn and find the lamp that sits next to the empty loveseat, she turns it on before walking back over to the light switch and turning that off. She makes sure the curtains are completely shut, peeking out to see nothing but darkness. 

The room is bathed in a soft light that she knows won’t make your head hurt worse, besides she’d rather it look like no one’s home if someone decides to drive by. 

“Someone wouldn’t let me pass out.” You wince, wrapping your arm around your waist and giving her a look that at any other time would be considered a glare.

It takes a few reassuring words before she gives in and heads to the kitchen. She doesn’t go for the phone sitting on the counter straight away, no that can wait. Right now she needs to check you.

The water is warm as it falls from the faucet, soaking the rag in her hands. She ignores that her hands are shaking, shakes her head and forces out a breath that does nothing to ease her frustration, her worry. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Your team wasn’t supposed to leave you behind. 

Stealing those files was the only objective, why on earth was there an explosion. What the hell happened?

Maria pinches her brow in frustration before releasing a sigh, she needs to focus on you. She turns the water off, drops the rag and brags the now full bowl of water before she heads back into the living room. 

The sight of you, leaning back against the couch, face turned to the ceiling with a clear look of discomfort on your face doesn’t ease the stress that tightens her muscles. You look a mess, you look utterly exhausted. 

As she places the bowl down on the coffee table that sits in front of the couch, sits next to you, the smile you give her makes nothing better but she returns it anyway. “I’m using up our vacation days after this. No way am I letting you out of my sight anytime soon.” 

When you shift, position yourself to look at her, she gives you a warning glare. She reaches for your unoccupied hand, running the soaked rag over dirk and blood covered skin. You let her work in quiet, eyes trained on her hands, skin warm from the water. 

“What would we do?” Your question doesn’t quite startle her, but her touch falters. It takes but a moment to continue with her task, scooting closer as she runs the rag up your arm. Maria doesn’t answer right away, she lets her hands work as her mind thinks. 

There’s a deep cut on your bicep, reaching up under your sleeve, she doesn’t want to think about who did that to you so she answers. “We could do a movie marathon,” Once the rag is rinsed, the bowl of water tinted an ugly color she continues, “I know you still wanted to finish that show. The one with the dragons?”

“Game of thrones.” You remind her gently as she almost glares at that one cut, wondering why she completely forgot about the first aid kit. You’re going to need stitches. 

“I’ll even buy the movie theater popcorn you love so much.” She adds, smiles apologetically when she motions to your other arm. “Next one, please.”

The pout you give her before carefully pulling your arm away from your ribs makes her throat feel tight. Once you switch arms, the now clean on holding your ribs, you rest your hand in her own. “Do you promise? I know you don’t really like it.”

It’s not that she doesn’t like it, more like she rather not have any, which is why you always get her bag of popcorn when there is time to go to the movies. The blood under your nails makes her grind her teeth, a flicker of pride warms her chest anyway. You fought back, even when you didn’t know when the rescue team would come. 

As she pushes the rag over your scraped knuckles she looks up, you’re watching her with tired eyes, head tilted slightly enough to cause your hair to fall over your shoulders, push to cover your ears. She wonders if your comms were smashed by your attacker. “I promise.”

The cut that nicks your eyebrow makes her reach out, she leans closer and brushes a finger right next to the cut, the stain of dried blood smears across your forehead. You don’t look away from her as she brings the rag up to wash away the blood, your fingers dig into her thigh when she then runs the rag over the cut. 

“Still okay?” Maria asks, pulls back to look at you, eyes dancing over your face in concern. 

“I think a shower would make this easier.” Your tease is subtle, if it wasn’t for the slight smirk you send her way she wouldn't have even noticed. She runs her rag covered hand over your cheek, shakes her head and pulls back. 

“I think a bath would do you more good.” She says in response, leaning over to wring the rag out over the bowl. She also thinks if you take a shower you might trip and hit your head, again. 

As she finishes washing your arm, her free hand brushing over your skin with a gentleness that could only qualify the touch as a caress, her eyes travel to the kitchen, the silent phone on the counter still looking at her. “I need to call Clint.” 

She needs to do a lot of things but she doesn’t want to get up. She doesn’t want to leave your side, not yet. When she turns back to you, the look in your eyes makes her glance away. Maria doesn’t want to worry about Clint, about what's going to happen once the two of you reach the base. How angry she’s going to be when she sees your team, your first in command, freaking John Bishop. 

“How about,” The touch of your fingers on her jaw, dancing up to brush against the back of her ear which reminds her that her hair has fallen from her ponytail. She closes her eyes when your thumb runs over her cheek and she turns to look back at you, expression almost pleading.

“Oh Maria.” The words you were going to say die on your tongue and when you move to reach out for her, the sting of broken ribs a second thought, she closes the distance. 

Her arms wrap around you with the familiarity of many hugs before, her grip holds no strength as she buries her face against your shoulder. You smell like gunpowder, sweat, and blood but she doesn’t care. 

You’re here, you’re alive. 

“I thought I lost you.” Her confession is a whisper buried in the fabric of your shirt, her eyes sting and she can’t believe she’s going to cry. 

The way you fist your hands into her shirt, tugging her closer despite the ache of your muscles makes this entire rescue operation worth it. She owes Clint a week's worth of free pizza for his help, she doesn’t care if he refuses. 

“I’m still here. I promise.” The feeling of you breathing under her touch fills her with relief, even if you have cuts and bruises; even with a broken ribs and a sprained ankle you’re still here. 

“Do you still want that bath?” She asks once she’s calmed down, the sensation of your fingers brushing through her hair doing a wonder to help. She doesn’t want to let go yet, thankfully she can still have a conversation like this. 

The feel of your shoulders sagging, the mumbled yes that tickles her neck causes her to chuckle, her amusement makes her feel lighter. If you really want that bath she can help you. There’s no way she’s going to leave it to chance if you fall asleep. Both of you are filthy anyway. “Okay, okay.”

When you pull away, she cradles your face in her hands. The moment your hands take hold of her wrists she leans forward and brushes her lips against your forehead in a tender kiss. The sound of your soft hum eases the lingering knot in her stomach. 

After the bath, after you fall asleep, she swears she’s going to call Clint. He’s probably worried as hell right now but he can wait. Right now she’s going to focus on you, only you. Everything else will wait.

[dogo-argentino88]

The dog sitter part 1) 2 dogs

Nikki walked up to the neighbor's house, knowing they had left for the weekend and asked her to dog sit there 2 dogs, she had the place to herself. As she let herself in, she was greeted by two large, energetic dogs, Buster and Lou. They wagged their tails enthusiastically, circling her with excited barks. Nikki laughed, scratching them behind the ears and playing with them for a bit before making herself comfortable on the couch.

Hours passed, and Nikki found herself flipping through channels on the TV. She landed on a spicy scene in a movie, and her interest was piqued. As she watched, she felt a familiar heat building within her. Unable to resist, she stripped off her clothes, her eyes never leaving the screen. She began to touch herself, her breaths coming in soft moans as she gave in to the pleasure.

The dogs, sensing her arousal, became restless. They paced around the room, their noses twitching as they picked up her scent. Nikki, lost in her own world, didn't notice their growing agitation. Buster, the more dominant of the two, let out a low growl, his eyes fixed on Nikki. Lou followed his lead, the two dogs circling her like predators.

Nikki, feeling a sudden chill, opened her eyes to see the dogs staring at her intently. "What's got into you two?" she murmured, trying to shoo them away. But the dogs were persistent, their bodies pressing against hers, their breaths hot on her skin. She pushed them away, annoyed, but Buster responded with a sharp nip at her arm. Nikki yelped, more from surprise than pain.

Buster's growls deepened, and he began to push her around, his body forcing hers down onto all fours. Nikki, still naked and vulnerable, tried to stand up, but Buster was relentless. He growled again, this time nipping at her arms, Nikki froze, fear coursing through her veins. She was at their mercy, and she knew it.

With a swift movement, Buster mounted her, his intentions clear. Nikki protested, trying to buck him off, but he held her firmly, She cried out in pain and fear as he entered her, his movements brutal and unyielding. She tried to fight, to escape, but his grip was too strong. He took what he wanted, his body slamming into hers with a primal force.

As Buster reached his climax, his knot expanding inside her, locking them together, Nikki let out a sob of defeat. She was trapped, her body betraying her as it responded to his raw, animalistic rhythm. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Buster's knot subsided, and he pulled away, leaving Nikki gasping and shaking.

But her ordeal was far from over. Lou, who had been watching and waiting, now took his turn. He mounted her with the same aggressive intent, his body taking over where Buster's had left off. Nikki's protests were weaker this time, her body too spent to put up much of a fight. She could feel every inch of him, the raw power of his thrusts shaking her to her core.

Lou's pace was relentless, his body tensing and coiling with each thrust. Nikki could feel his climax building, his movements becoming more erratic and wild. With a final, earth-shattering thrust, Lou released, his knot expanding inside her, locking them together in a primal embrace.

Nikki cried out, her body convulsing with the intensity of his release. Lou's body shuddered above hers, his breath hot and ragged on her neck. They stayed locked together, their bodies slick with sweat and other fluids, their breaths syncing in a primal rhythm.

As the knot began to subside, Lou pulled away slowly as the knot slipped out with a pop and his cum pouring out of her used hole, leaving Nikki collapsed on the floor, her body trembling and her mind a blank slate. She was left in a daze, her body aching, her mind reeling from the raw, primal experience. She had been taken against her will, her body used for their pleasure, and now she was left to deal with the consequences, both physically and mentally. The room was silent except for her soft sobs, her body shaking with the aftermath of their brutal encounter.

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, sexual assault, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 2]

(Chapter 28)

The Longest Reunion

The rhythmic thud of fists colliding with leather echoed down the empty hallway. Y/N followed the sound, her heart hammering against her ribs. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, casting long shadows against the metallic walls of the underground S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.

She found him in the training room.

A graveyard of punching bags surrounded him, the remnants of past ones torn open and left scattered across the floor like casualties of war. Another bag swung violently from the impact of his blows, creaking on its chain as Steve threw punch after punch, his movements sharp, precise—relentless.

Y/N didn’t speak right away. She just stood there, watching.

His shoulders were rigid, his breath ragged. Sweat clung to the strands of his hair, his jaw clenched so tight she thought it might crack. He looked different now. Not just older, though time had barely touched him—hardened.

Finally, she stepped forward. “You know, at this rate, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s going to run out of bags.”

Steve stilled. His breathing was heavy, his hands still curled into fists. Slowly, he turned toward her.

For a moment, he just stared. Like she was something from a dream—something that couldn’t possibly be real.

Then his eyes softened, just barely. “You’re awake.”

Y/N swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly before running a hand through his damp hair. “Seventy years, Y/N. We were frozen in the ice for seventy years.”

She could hear the anger simmering beneath his voice, the frustration laced with grief. She understood.

Steve turned away, his muscles still tense. “Everything we knew, everything we fought for—it’s gone.” He threw another punch at the bag, making it swing violently. “The world kept moving without us. Peggy–”

Y/N flinched. She had expected that, but hearing it out loud felt like a fresh wound reopening. “Steve—”

“I don’t belong here.” His voice was sharp, bitter. “I wake up every day and I don’t recognize anything. Not the people, not the buildings, not the way the world works. And Peggy—” His breath hitched, and he stopped himself short. He pressed his lips together, his fists shaking. “She was supposed to be here. And she’s not.”

Y/N stepped closer, her voice gentle. “I know.”

Steve turned to her again, his blue eyes burning. “Do you?”

She didn’t falter. “Yeah, I do.”

Silence stretched between them. A long, heavy silence filled with everything left unsaid.

Then Steve sighed, some of the tension in his frame loosening. “I—” he hesitated. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Y/N offered a small, tired smile. “You didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but the moment was brief. His expression darkened again, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Bucky would’ve laughed at that.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her hand instinctively brushed over the dog tags in her pocket—the only piece of Bucky she had left.

She forced herself to smile. “Yeah. He would’ve.”

Steve didn’t notice the way her fingers curled around the metal. He didn’t ask if there was more she wasn’t saying. And she wasn’t about to tell him. Not yet.

Before either of them could say more, the door behind them creaked open.

“Good to see you two up and about.”

Nick Fury strolled into the room, his single eye scanning the scene—his usual air of authority unmistakable. He glanced at the wreckage of punching bags, then at the two super soldiers in front of him.

“You two have trouble sleeping?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Steve crossed his arms. “What do you want, Fury?”

Fury smirked slightly. “I have a mission to get you back in the world.” He stepped forward, reaching into his coat pocket. “To save it.”

He pulled out a thick, leather-bound book and handed it to Steve.

Steve frowned, flipping it open. His expression darkened immediately. “This is HYDRA’s secret weapon.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The pages were filled with detailed reports, old sketches, and classified notes about the Tesseract.

Fury nodded. “Howard Stark fished it out of the ocean while he was looking for you both. He believed it could be the key to unlimited, sustainable energy. Something the world sorely needs.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “I’m guessing there’s a problem.”

Fury sighed. “It was stolen.”

“By who?” Steve asked, already bracing himself for the answer.

“He calls himself Loki.” Fury’s gaze flickered between them. “And he’s not from around here.”

Y/N inhaled sharply. A rush of images flashed through her mind—the way Schmidt had held the glowing cube, the visions that had burst through her head like a door slamming open.

Valhalla. Asgard. Gods.

Her stomach twisted violently.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice pulled her out of it, his brows knitting together with concern.

She blinked, shaking her head slightly. “I’m fine.”

Fury studied her carefully, his gaze sharp. “There’s a lot we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in.”

Steve exhaled, glancing at Y/N before shaking his head slightly. “At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.”

He turned and began packing up his gear, seeming disinterested in the conversation while Y/N remained still, her arms crossed, curiosity flickering in her expression.

Fury smirked knowingly. “Ten bucks says you’re wrong.”

He remained in place, watching as Steve slung his bag over his shoulder.

Then, as if sensing something unspoken, he shifted his focus to Y/N. “Is there anything about the Tesseract that we oughta know?”

Y/N stiffened.

Steve stopped abruptly, turning to her. He held her gaze for a long moment, as if silently asking for permission.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“You should’ve left it in the ocean.”

And with that, he walked out.

[uranometrias]

my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

────────────────────────

The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

[theeoriginals]

Ok so how about a cat and mouse!reader x elijah follow up where she’s back in town and they haven’t seen each other since their last meeting, and she’s caught by him taking something but he’s just happy to see her again so he lets her get away with it bc she’s charming and he loves the chase and banter and flirting 😩

hard to forget | elijah mikaelson

author's note; someone else asked for part 2 to cat and mouse, so here is a small little thing for them :)

warnings; witch!female!reader, elijah is astronomically down bad, fluff, mention of stealing but it's fine, reader is flirty and confident. no use of y/n!

"We've got to stop meeting like this."

"I quite like seeing you like this," She turns with a smile, wicked and sharp, but a genuine happiness shines in her eyes, especially when she sees the smile Elijah fights off at the sight of her. "You're so sexy when you're being all righteous."

Elijah huffs, ignoring the fact that she can make him feel like a blushing boy again. "You're insatiable. And you told me you were going to leave this here when I caught you trying to take it the first time I brought you here."

She purses her lips in a pout when he plucks the figurine of the black cat from her hands, setting it back on the shelf it'd been collecting dust on in the touristy museum tucked into an old building in the Quarter.

"Can a girl not have a hobby anymore?" She nearly whines the words as he approaches her, lifting her hands to drag her nails along his waist, catching on the fabric of his buttoned shirt. "I got bored, baby,"

He hums, looking at her with some twisted mix of reprimand and amusement. "Most people read a book when they get bored. Or go on a walk."

"Both of those sound absolutely mind-numbing."

He huffs out a laugh, unable stop it even though he knows it will just enable her further.

Her answering grin proves that point immediately.

"I do it for us, Elijah,"

"Oh, really? And how, exactly, does this benefit us?"

She straightens her shoulders, meeting his gaze unwaveringly confident. "I get bored and I go looking for things to entertain me, and you ultimately find out and follow me, and then we get to play our fun little game that I know you love. One way or another, it ends up with us in a similar position to this and we're both happy."

Elijah's smile grows more fond as she goes on, and he shakes his head with poorly feigned exasperation. "Darling–"

"I know, I know," She groans, rolling her eyes. "Let's just go. I'll have to find something else to entertain me, I suppose. Maybe I'll ask Klaus if he needs something done,"

"I almost hate that option more. You've only just returned from his last errand, I'd at least like to share a meal with you before you're running off again."

She throws him a wink as she turns him around, pushing him towards the door.

"Don't worry, I won't let him send me far so soon again," She reassures him, fingers skating along the shelf as she follows him out the door back outside into the throngs of people. "I've missed you, you know. I don't like running off to every corner of the country."

Elijah spares her a glance, trying and failing to not look pleased with her words. "You do like it," He corrects her softly.

"Alright, I do," She concedes easily, earning a light chuckle from him. "But I don't like being away from you."

"Does your flattery ever end?"

"You wanna find out, beautiful?" She raises her brows pointedly, earning a ragged noise from him that's choked off as he adjusts his tie, and the flustered action sends her off into a laughing fit that echoes over the noise of the Quarter and has him smiling in spite of himself.

He follows after her swift pace like a loyal dog, hands tucked in his pockets as they slowly weed out from the crowds and make their way towards the compound that's much less populated these days.

As they reach the courtyard, Elijah reaches for her elbow, tugging her back towards him, earning a slightly surprised noise from her as she catches herself with her palms flat on his chest. "How much joy does it bring you to render a thousand year old vampire speechless?"

"I don't think I could accurately describe it, even if I spent the next hundred years trying,"

He shakes his head and finally, finally, leans his head down to press his lips to hers and she hums into the kiss, satisfied with the outcome of all of her teasing.

She was right, after all. They always end up here.

Elijah pulls away after a moment, resenting the need for air in favor of tasting the sweet warmth of her skin again. He's silent for a moment, head tilting just enough to be noticeable, and then he lets out a long sigh. "Niklaus would like to speak to you,"

"I know, I'm ignoring him."

Elijah relishes in his brother's faint, outraged noise, but knows that he won't come disturb them just yet. "Don't let him send you off just yet. I would like to see you again tonight, at least."

"I won't, I promise. We'll have dinner, and a drink or two. I'd also love to end the night in your room, if that's alright with you,"

Heat floods his cheeks and he briefly looks away from her, just to shake himself of her flirtations. "Whatever you want, darling."

She smiles like he's just given her the keys to the city.

Hours later, after their dinner, after their drinks, after they end the night and start the next day with whatever she wanted, Elijah wakes long after she's left on another of Klaus's errands, keeping to her promise of not going far.

When he turns over, his eyes catch on the small, black cat figurine sitting on the table beside his bed. Elijah falls back onto the bed, laughing to himself. Utterly, absolutely besotted with the woman.

[salt-clangen]

Moon 12 pt 2

Leaf Bare

I’m sorry

The camp was quiet.

Snowspeckle watched her mate lead the kits toward the bramble tunnel. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on Wolfstar’s den. Hesitation clouded her eyes, but she turned and padded behind them. Shadowdive was gone on patrol, Fennelheart rested in the healer’s den, and Mallowstripe set to tend to him. The camp was as empty as she could get it.

Inside, Wolfstar sat at the back of her den, eyes sharp as she watched Lynxdawn pace. Dawn had barely broken when the cleric stormed in, her new name fresh on her tongue and her voice dripping with accusations. The visions, the anger—it was like a storm battering the den walls.

Now, Wolfstar waited, her tail curling tight around her paws, for Lynxdawn to calm. For the panic to leave her voice. But when Lynxdawn crumpled into the sand, sobbing, Wolfstar’s heart twisted.

“Lynx,” Wolfstar murmured, her voice low and steady. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand you lied to me,” Lynxdawn spat, lifting her head. Her blue eyes, glassy with tears, burned like flames.

Wolfstar’s claws sank into the sand. “I told you DuskClan wasn’t safe, and StarClan said to leave. That wasn’t a lie.”

Lynxdawn’s ears pinned back. She surged forward, stopping just shy of Wolfstar’s face, her breath hot and ragged. “And you think that makes it okay?” she hissed. “You think you can blame StarClan for hiding this from me?”

Wolfstar flinched but kept her ground. “You were so young—”

“Did you ever plan to tell me?” Lynxdawn shoved her muzzle forward until their noses almost touched. “You let me face my would-be murderer without a word!”

“I-I spoke with her,” Wolfstar stammered, her voice cracking. “She said she’d never go through with it. Something came over her—”

“And you believed her.” Lynxdawn’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Would you have believed her if she wasn’t your mother?”

Wolfstar recoiled, her breath catching in her throat.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Lynxdawn snarled, pressing forward again. “You lied to me. You lied to the entire Clan because you didn’t want to admit the truth: your mother was nearly a kit-killer.”

“That’s not why—”

“Then tell me why!” Lynxdawn’s voice cracked as she shoved her chest against Wolfstar’s, driving her into the rock wall. Dust and sand rained down as Lynxdawn pinned her, her paws heavy on Wolfstar’s chest.

Wolfstar gasped for breath, her vision blurring with tears. Guilt, more than weight, kept her still. “I didn’t want you to know,” she choked out, her voice thin. “I didn’t want you to feel like I—like I’d ever—”

“Like you’d ever what?” Lynxdawn’s voice was low and dangerous. “Be like her?”

Wolfstar clenched her teeth and shoved Lynxdawn off with a powerful kick of her hind legs. The cleric hit the sand with a grunt, but she stayed low, her tail lashing behind her. Wolfstar dropped to her belly, chin brushing the ground as she spoke.

“I didn’t understand why she said it,” Wolfstar murmured, her voice breaking. “My own mother, plotting to drown a newborn kit… You were so tiny. I remember congratulating your mother when you were born. You were the littlest thing I’d ever seen.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her claws digging deep into the sand. “And then… then I heard her.”

Lynxdawn stayed silent, her eyes boring into Wolfstar.

“She was like a dog,” Wolfstar continued, her voice shaking. “Foaming, snarling. I’ve never seen her like that before—or since. Her voice was low, but I heard it as clear as the sky. I didn’t believe it at first. I couldn’t. But StarClan wouldn’t let me rest. I heard them, hundreds of voices, until I thought I’d go mad.” Her breath hitched. “They told me to take you and run. So I did.”

Lynxdawn’s tail flicked once, twice, before curling around her paws. “And my mother?” she whispered. “What did she do?”

Wolfstar’s voice broke on a sob. “She named you.”

Lynxdawn blinked, her face unreadable. “Why?” she asked coldly. “Why did you lie?”

Wolfstar’s scarred neck throbbed as memories surged forward, secrets pressing against her throat. “I didn’t want you to see her in me,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. “But I do. I see her. I feel her. She’s in my blood, Lynxdawn, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake her.”

Lynxdawn rose slowly, towering over Wolfstar now. Her voice was a low growl, each word deliberate. “I will leave, Wolfstar. I will leave and never come back if you don’t tell me the truth.”

Wolfstar’s breath caught as Lynxdawn’s tail lashed wildly behind her, each flick sharp and deliberate. The silence between them was suffocating.

“There’s something in your throat, Wolfstar,” Lynxdawn said, her voice low and cold. “Something that wants to get out, but you won’t let it.”

Wolfstar’s mouth opened, but no sound came.

“You’re scared,” Lynxdawn pressed, her voice cracking. “Scared of what’s in your blood.”

Wolfstar closed her eyes, her body trembling. “Of becoming her,” she finally whispered, the words brittle and raw. “I have these dreams… I get so angry, and I want to scream. I snap at the kits, Lynx. I feel myself slipping, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Lynxdawn stared for a moment longer before shaking her head. Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the den, her paws kicking up clods of sand.

Wolfstar leapt to her feet, watching her friend vanish into the sunlight. Her fur clung to her damp face, sand sticking to the trails of tears. She didn’t move, even as sounds of the clan outside returned.

Her throat burned, but no sound came.

Next

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Moon 0

[meiplays]

“𝐈'𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫! 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞!”

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻❁༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

Title: Queen of the Damned Sanctuary – Part 4: Gone, Girl

Word Count: ~2,200

POV: Negan

Warnings: Possessive behavior, implied imprisonment, emotional manipulation, anger, reader disappearance

Tone: Dark, desperate, slow unraveling

---

> She said she’d choose.

She didn’t say she’d run.

---

Scene: A Quiet Morning That Shouldn’t Be

Negan notices first thing.

No footsteps down the hall. No creak of the damn kettle boiling in your quarters. No scowl when he says something smug at breakfast. No trace of your favorite mug on the sink.

Just silence.

He lets it slide for an hour. Then two. Then four.

Until the stillness starts crawling under his skin like ants.

He makes his way to your room.

Knocks.

Waits.

Nothing.

He opens the door.

And then he feels it.

The void.

That soft warmth you always left behind, the scent of your hair, the carefully arranged things he’d given you—necklace, ring, coat, trinkets—gone.

The closet: nearly empty.

The drawers: half-full at best.

And your dog?

Not a damn paw print in sight.

That’s when his heart drops like a brick in water.

And then he sees it.

Folded on your pillow. Neat. Tidy.

Too calm.

A note.

---

Scene: The Letter

His fingers hover for a second before snatching it up.

Your handwriting. Always messy when you were mad. This? It’s almost gentle.

> Negan,

This isn’t goodbye. I don’t know what this is. I just know I can’t breathe here anymore.

I need space to think. Away from the fire. Away from the war between you and him.

Don’t come looking for me.

I’ll choose…

But I have to be free to do it.

– (Y/N)

He reads it twice.

Then a third time.

By the fourth, his knuckles are white and the paper is shaking.

---

Scene: The Snap

He storms out, letter crushed in his fist.

Slams the door hard enough to make the hallway tremble.

His jaw’s locked, expression unreadable. But the Saviors around him scatter anyway.

He heads straight for the one person he blames most.

---

Scene: Daryl’s Last Day of Freedom

Daryl’s in the courtyard, tightening a wrench on a broken fence panel. Quiet. Calm. Too calm.

Negan’s boots crunch on gravel.

Daryl looks up—slow.

"You lookin’ for a fight?” he asks flatly.

“No,” Negan says, voice ice-cold. “I’m lookin’ for what the hell you did.”

Daryl stands up. “She left you, not me.”

Wrong answer.

Negan decks him.

No wind-up. No warning. Just fist to jaw.

Daryl stumbles back, spitting blood. Doesn’t hit back.

“I gave you rope,” Negan growls, towering over him. “I let you breathe. Let you walk free. Gave you that courtesy for her.”

Daryl wipes his mouth, scowls. “You never had her.”

That’s the last straw.

Negan grabs him by the shirt, slams him against the brick wall like a rag doll.

“You think this is about who had her?” His voice turns venomous. “You made her run. You were the thorn in her goddamn side.”

Then, to the guards:

“Take him to the cell. Strip his perks. No food today. No visitors. I want him to feel it.”

Daryl’s hauled off.

No protest. No fear.

Just a long, bitter look.

Negan doesn’t meet it.

He’s already turning away, breathing like a man trying not to kill something.

---

Scene: Alone With Her Ghost

That night, he walks into your room again.

Empty.

Too empty.

He sits on your bed, note still in his pocket, reading it again under the glow of the bedside lamp.

Your handwriting curves softer near the end. Like you hesitated. Like you were trying not to cry.

You took the puppy. You took the necklace. You took that leather jacket he gave you the night after your first throne room meeting.

But you didn’t take him.

Didn’t take Daryl either.

You ran from both.

---

Scene: His Thoughts, His Hell

He pours a glass of whiskey.

Doesn’t drink it.

He stares at the fire crackling in the hearth.

Wondering if he should burn the damn note.

Wondering if he should tear the place apart.

Or go looking for you.

He hates how much he wants to.

He hates how it hurts.

Negan never begged for anyone.

Never chased anyone.

But this?

This isn’t just ego.

It’s you.

And wherever you are now…

You’ve made him feel like the king of nothing.

> She left silence behind her.

But silence screams the loudest.

To be continued…

[boneapplet]

A Love Born in Blood pt.4

Relationship: Angron x oc/afab!reader

Warnings: slavery, implied forced sex work and abuse, minor character deaths, minor injury descriptions

Word Count: 1065

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 | pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17 | pt 18 | pt 19

Torchlight flickering low through the barrack cells, shadows dancing along the stone. Angron is sitting in the dark again, back to the wall, eyes half-closed. There’s still blood in the cracks of his knuckles, bruises along his ribs from the match earlier that day. Opening his eyes as he hears the soft click of the door’s latch.

Watching as she limps inside, shawl drawn high again. A cut near her lip, swelling just beginning to show around her eye. She doesn’t speak when she enters, she doesn’t have to. Angron rises slowly, no sudden movement, no growl. Just a silent, overwhelming presence. He looks at her like the entire world narrowed to a single point. She doesn’t bring out the flask nor does she kneel as she had done so many times before. Instead, she just stands there, shaking, not from fear, but from holding it in.

“They hurt me,” she says, voice barely above a whisper, confirming his silent question. “Because of you.”

“But I’m glad they did.”

Stepping forward, stopping as he stands before her but makes no move to touch her.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“You said no,” she breathes. “In front of all of them.”

Her chin lifts, eyes hard, even as her body trembles “No one’s ever said no for me before.”

Slowly he reaches out, fingers brushing her cheek, just under the bruise. She leans into the touch, just slightly.

That’s when he says it—soft, like a secret “Little flame.”

Freezing at hearing that, her eyes go wide “What?”

“That’s what I call you,” he murmurs. “In my head. When the Nails are screaming. You’re the only thing that burns brighter.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within the barracks, in the food lines, behind the iron gates of the lesser pens. They talk about it, about him. Not what he did in the ring, they’ve seen that before. The carnage, the fury, that’s nothing new. They talk about what he didn’t do.

“Did you hear? The red giant refused the girl.”

“She was offered to him. Like a trophy. He said no.”

“She went back to him anyway. Limping. But standing.”

“And he didn’t take her. He held her. Like she mattered.”

While they don’t dare say his name, they start watching him differently. No longer a monster in their eyes but like something dangerous in a new way. Not because he kills, but because he remembers who he is. That terrifies the masters more than blood ever could.

Only two nights later, fresh from a match. Breath ragged, wounds fresh, nails still singing within his skull. The guards lead him not to his cell but to a small holding cell instead. Inside he is met by the sight of a girl, barely grown, no older than fifteen, shackled at the ankle with nothing on but a dress of some thin gauzy material. Her eyes widening in terror upon seeing him, especially when the guards shove him inside and slam the door behind him.

“Try again,” one of them sneers. “Let’s see if you’re still feeling noble.”

Angron doesn’t move, watching as the girl scrambles to the corner, curling up like a kicked dog.

“Please,” she whispers. “I don’t want—please—”

Slowly he kneels as if he’s approaching a wounded animal “I’m not here to hurt you.”

She doesn’t answer, just watches him through tear-glossed lashes.

He reaches into the bowl of water in the corner. Soaks the cloth they left behind and holds it out to her.

“For your face,” he says. “Not your fear.”

She stares at him like he’s speaking a language no one’s taught her. Silently, taking it. When the guards return ten minutes later, they find the girl asleep on the floor. Angron, sitting beside her like a sentinel, eyes burning into them, daring them to try again.

Finding the quiet minute peace in his cell, scratching off the dried flakes of blood upon his hands when he hears footsteps softer than his own breathing. There standing at the bars of his cell, A man. Thin. Older. Skin like worn leather and eyes dulled by years of silence. A slave. Turning to face him, though Angron doesn’t rise from where he sits. The man steps inside like someone walking into a temple.

“I saw what you did.”

No preamble, though it receives no answer from Angron.

“You didn’t touch her. Same as the girl before.”

Still, silence.

“Why?”

The word hovers between them like smoke, Angron’s gaze rises slowly.

When he speaks, his voice is rough—but quiet. Deliberate. “Because they want me to forget I was ever a man.”

A pause.

“She reminded me I still am.”

The man bows his head—deeply. Not in fear, but in respect. Then he leaves without another word.

Next morning, four more slaves meet Angron’s eyes when he walks past. Not with awe or terror, something far more dangerous in a place like this: Recognition. It started small, almost invisible. A young woman—Lissa, no more than seventeen—hauls a heavy cart across the yard. Two guards standing by the gate, laughing, tossing dice. One of them, bored, kicks the cart hard enough to send it sprawling, crates shattering across the ground.

"Pick it up," he sneers. "Now."

Lissa freezes—just a second—her hand twitches toward the crates. She looks up, across the yard and sees him, Angron. Though he is chained, bruised, watching from his cell, not with pity or fear but something harder seemingly unbreakable. Lissa straightens her spine and squares her shoulders.

"I’m not your dog," she says.

The guards blink, seemingly stunned by her defiance. One strikes her hard across the face. Staggering from the blow—though she refuses to kneel, bow her head and most certainly to pick up the crates. She spits blood at the guard’s boots instead. For the first time in months—maybe years—someone laughs in the slave quarters. Not the guards. Not the masters. The slaves. A low, rough sound, a spark in dry kindling. Even the guards feel it— the first crack in the dam. Something is changing and no amount of chains will hold it back forever.