#and i was like you right i would never risk any of you get struck down by the bar so i won't risk trying to lift the bar and falter bc

[halinski]

Ignore me :)

[drabblesandimagines]

Swingin'

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship, absolutely fluffy nonsense once again

“Stand here for me, ma’am.”

You giggle at the odd term of address as familiar hands maneuverer you forward into position by your hips, the owner of said hands stepping back in front of you when they seemed happy with your positioning.

“Now, put your left index finger on your nose.”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t seriously be making your girlfriend take a field impairment test.”

Leon crosses his arms, trademark smirk on his lips. “Oh, I’m serious, sweetheart. Left index finger – go.”

You swallow down a hiccup as you follow his order, finding your nose with ease and smile, triumphantly.

“Now with your right.”

That one doesn’t go as smooth, your finger sliding down the side and prodding yourself in the cheek before you reposition, finding it at last. “Oops.”

“Arms straight down by your sides.” You comply at once, straightening your posture as you do. “Place your left foot directly in front of your right, heel touching toes.”

That one is a little more tricky to follow, you admit, but you think you’ve nailed it after a little bit of shuffling, though your boyfriend doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Walk forward – heel to toe every step and count aloud.”

“Heel to toe…” You mutter, looking down at your feet. “One.” You swing your right leg round a bit too dramatically and your foot lands too far in front of your left but you persevere.

“Two.” Another big step forward has you throwing your arms out for balance.

“Arms straight down by your sides, sweetpea.” Leon chides.

You huff, dropping them back down and scoot your foot backward, before stepping forward with the other. “Three…”

Unfortunately, you step too far off to the right, nearly losing your balance completely before Leon steadies you with a firm grip on your elbow.

“Yep, you are 100% not riding on the back.”

“But I promise to hold on real tight.” You press your face into his chest then, wrapping your arms around his waist in demonstration and giving a firm squeeze to show off your strength.

“Not a risk I’m willing to take.” Leon wraps his arms around you in return and presses a kiss to your crown. All it would take was for you to let go around a corner and…

He shudders, can’t even bear to imagine any further. Nope, not happening.

“I’m sorry.” Your words are muffled, feeling like an annoyance. “I really didn’t think I’d drank that much.”

And you hadn’t, it had only really hit you when you’d exited the bar into the fresh air to meet Leon on the sidewalk. He’d parked his bike a block or so away from the venue and that short, stumbled walk had set alarm bells ringing.

“I’m sure you didn’t, little lightweight that you are.” He teases. “Come on, it’s not too far a walk from here anyway – might help you sober up.”

You pull your head back and look up at him, brows furrowed. “What about your bike?”

He looks at it – his prized Ducati, security lock already in place from when he left it to walk towards the bar – and shrugs. “I can get it in the morning.”

“Uh-uh,” you step back, Leon loosening his arms as you do but still keeping you close. “You take the bike and I’ll walk home. Ooh, I could jog alongside!”

Leon smiles in amusement, but shakes his head. “Not happening.”

You look down at your feet, double-checking you were in fact wearing flats and not heels when Leon doesn’t take you seriously. He’s in his military-grade boots, as usual. You’re not sure how they can be comfortable to walk in, steel-capped toes, but he never seems to complain.

“Okay, how about you wheel it home as I walk?”

“Why are you so concerned about me leaving my bike?”

“Are you kidding me? You have the worst luck with it. If you leave it here, it’ll get stolen or hit by a truck, or… struck by lightning.”

“And my insurance covers all of those.” He turns you, gently, one arm snug around your waist and encourages you to take a step forward. “Come on, let’s get home.”

You wrap an arm tentatively around his waist in return and only make it a few steps before your insecurities arise. “Leon…”

“Mm?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hip in reassurance. “Why would I be? You had fun, right?”

“Yeah, I did.” You nod, thinking back over the evening. You’d met up with your friends to catch-up over some cocktails, a rare evening where you’d all happened to be free. “It was so nice seeing them all. Tabitha’s been through two boyfriends since the last time we managed it.”

“She still dating jerks?” He frowns, familiar with her tales of dating woe.

“Sadly. Are you sure there’s no suitable guys at your work?”

“Oh, I’m one of a kind, baby,” he chuckles. “Don’t wanna set her up for disappointment.”

“Maybe this one will be diff… Ooh, look!” You point just up ahead, your attention span apparently at an all-time low. “They finally finished the renovations!”

The playpark had been taped off for a while – the equipment old and outdated and more than a little bit dangerous. You pull away from him and race through the gate, making a beeline for the swings. Leon jogs behind you, stopping a few feet in front of the swing-set and places his hands on his hips as you plonk yourself down and kick your feet against the fresh tarmac.

“I don’t think you’re the demographic they’re looking for, sweetheart.”

“Says you.” You tease, the agent having a handful of more years on you. “When’s the last time you sat on a swing anyway?”

“I dunno, 30 years ago?”

“Long overdue.” You jerk your head at the swing besides you. “Bet I can swing higher than you can.”

He tilts his head and smiles. “I’m sure you can.”

“Leon, come on.” You pout, scuffing your soles on the tarmac again as you swing half-heartedly back and forth. “Please?”

How could he ever say no to that face?

He rolls his eyes and walks over to the swing, sitting down heavily as instructed, wrapping his fingers around the chains. “Happy?”

“Uh-uh, not until you swing, Kennedy.” You kick your feet against the ground in demonstration, picking up some height and speed as Leon follows suit.

You look at him and grin as the two of you begin to swing in sync, getting higher and higher. Leon’s smile only grows wider as the wind rushes through his hair.

It takes him back for a moment – back to before he knew what Umbrella and BOWs were. He still has his jokes, of course, but it had been a while since he’d allowed himself to be a little bit silly.

You just make it far too easy.

He scuffs his boots against the ground to slow down his movement and watches as you follow suit, tilting your head in concern.

“You okay?”

“Mm-hm. Come here,” he pats his lap and you jump off mid-swing, somehow managing to keep upright. Leon rolls his eyes and stops his swing completely as you step over and drop yourself sideways onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck for stability.

“I can’t ride on the back of your bike, but I can sit on your lap whilst you swing, huh?”

“Uh-uh,” he lets go of the chain and cups your face. “I just wanted a kiss.”

He closes the gap then with a soft kiss, one full of utter adoration – not too firm, but one that makes your scalp tingle as his lips caress yours, over and over.

He pulls away to lean his forehead against yours.

“I love you, sweetheart. Thanks for keeping me young.”

You let go of his neck to pat his chest, chidingly. “Come on, you’re not that old. You were swinging pretty high.”

“Yeah, guess I was.” The cocky grin crosses his face then. “Higher than you, actually.”

“Uh-uh”, you shake your head, adamantly. “You just think that cos you’re a little bit taller.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

But he’s lost you, your attention fixed on something over his shoulder. “Ooh, they’ve got a new slide too!”

You make Leon try every piece of play equipment before finally heading home, but his smile never drops.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Comments and reblogs make my whole day x

[vexwerewolf]

I’m suddenly getting swathes of Lancer hate across my feed… Has something happened in the fandom? “Union is ______ how could they paint them as even remotely good. They allow _____, and I hate the devs they are ______. The whole thing is just 40k with communist veneer”.

Like am I taking crazy pills…? I thought that all of the problems were literally like right there on the tin “we are a utopia in progress! We will obtain it by any means possible even if it means being everything we say we are not/fighting against. As the player you decide what is right. How much will you ignore for someone else’s idea of utopia?” Like doesn’t it mean all the tools to actually change are there and that is the HOPE aspect of all of this?

(Sorry if this in incoherent grammar is a weak point and I pulled something in my back simply standing up. Now I am sad and crook backed in spasmodic pain)

This isn't an argument I feel super enthusiastic about stepping into, because it gets the most annoying sort of people in your mentions eager to maliciously misrepresent what you say.

However, yeah, there are some pretty terrible readings of Union floating around. I'd invoke "media literacy" because think that a lot of this comes from people not really holistically engaging with the fictional future history of Lancer, but also from a sort of dogmatic purism that requires future societies to be flawless, else they're irredeemable.

It is important to note that ThirdComm is the direct descendant of two highly imperfect societies. FirstComm was formed as a response to the Three Great Traumas of discovering the Massif Vaults (and thus that they were the inheritors of a fallen world), the wars over the Massif Vaults, and the discovery of the lost colonies, all of which collectively showed humanity how close it had come to total extinction.

FirstComm decided that it had a responsibility to ensure that humanity never risked extinction again. It manifested this by trying to colonize every habitable planet it could find, pumping out ship after ship to seed the cosmos with as much human life as it possibly could. This led to problems when it encountered civilizations like the Karrakin Federation and the Aun, who had been carrying humanity's torch just fine by themselves, thank you very much.

SecComm was an Anthrochauvinist fascist state. The book defines it thusly:

We can see a lot of Anthrochauvinist historical romanticism in the mech naming schemes of Harrison Armory, SSC and IPS-N - the fact that Harrison Armory names its mechs after great military leaders of pre-Fall Earth history, IPS-N does the same with naval figures, and SSC uses the names of Earth animals. Even the GMS Everest is named for a mountain on Earth. It's very Cradle-centric.

Anthrochauvinism was, to be clear, largely just an excuse for colonialism and hegemony. Atrocities could easily be justified under by stating that whoever they're being committed against were a threat to the Continuance of Humanity - a term that SecComm got to define.

It's also at this point that we have to zoom in from broad sociopolitical points to address one very specific piece of history: the New Prosperity Agreement. This was signed to prevent the outbreak of a Second Union-Karrakin War, and mandated that the Karrakin Houses would maintain privileged levels of autonomy within Union, and that they would be granted colonial rights to the entire Dawnline Shore. This agreement, struck in 3007u, basically defines much of the current political situation today.

ThirdComm was a final and inevitable reaction to the atrocities, abuses and excesses of SecComm. The unspeakable horrors of Hercynia were the spark, but I need to stress how little Hercynia actually mattered in the larger Revolution - at the start of NRfaW, it's explicitly stated that almost nobody in the galaxy even knows where it is, let alone what happened there. The Revolution was a generalized response to SecComm's tyranny, with no single rallying cry.

The Revolution might also have failed entirely, but for a critical error by Harrison Armory: pissing off the Karrakin Trade Baronies. After getting kicked off Cradle, the Anthrochauvinist Party organised a fleet at Ras Shamra to try and retake Cradle. Simultaneously, however, they were attempting to secure protectorate agreements to steal worlds in the Dawnline Shore out from under the KTB. Putting these two together and making five, the KTB assumed that the fleet was pointed at Karrakis, and started the First Interest War.

The First Interest War initially favoured the KTB. They smashed the fleet above Ras Shamra and simultaneously conquered the moon of Creighton in the Dawnline Shore. However, they underestimated just how ruthless Harrison I was - he "retook" Creighton by relativistic bombardment, and then conquered four of the 12 worlds of the Dawnline Shore with mechanised chassis, a technology the KTB had not adopted and had no counter for.

To prevent further loss of life, Union was eventually forced to broker a peace agreement that saw Harrison I handing himself over to Union justice in return for Harrison Armory's continued sovereignty, and the KTB joining Union as a full member state.

So, with that historical context out of the way, let me get to the second part of this absurd essay I'm writing.

Third Committee Union isn't a civilization that arose from whole cloth. It's shaped by five thousand years of Union history, six thousand years of post-Fall history, and six thousand years of pre-Fall history before that. It is, ultimately, an extremely well-thought-out and well-worldbuilt fictional polity, in that all of its imperfections come from traceable root causes in its history.

Why does ThirdComm permit the abuses of the KTB? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with Harrison Armory and make horrific concessions.

Why does ThirdComm permit the expansionism and cryptochauvinism of the Armory? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with the KTB and make horrific concessions.

Nobody in CentComm likes that Harrison Armory are empire-building expansionists. Nobody in CentComm likes that the KTB has a hereditary nobility and enforces blockades against planets that rebel against it. The problem is that ThirdComm is, in historical terms, still relatively new. They've been around five hundred years, and compared to the 1600 years that SecComm was around and the 2800 years FirstComm existed for, that's not very much.

ThirdComm is attempting to decouple itself from the Cradle-first politics of its predecessor, and to amend the many, many atrocities committed in the name of Humanity. It is not easy to do any of these things. SecComm was defined almost entirely by the fact that if it didn't like what you were doing, it would send in the military as a first response. Every time ThirdComm chooses to do the same, its legitimacy erodes, because the mission of ThirdComm is to prove that diverse, vibrant and compassionate human civilization can exist without devolving into war and bloodshed. ThirdComm always tries diplomacy as a first response because if it doesn't, millions of people could die.

[apdreadful]

I’ve decided that from here forward I’m writing Tommy and Buck/Evan as long term canon. In the words of Buck himself “Who cares?!”

I get the feeling that Tommy is difficult to get really angry. Mostly based on his past. And his general roll with the punches attitude thus far. So I don’t foresee a lot of strife or fighting in his future with Buck. Except the first time Tommy experiences the after of that big marshmallow Evan Buckley doing something really dangerous and reckless..again.

And Tommy who never gets angry, who never shouts at Buck, who flew a helicopter into a goddamn hurricane in the middle of the ocean, really loses his shit this time because Buck cannot understand why Tommy is so upset that he dropped into a dangerous situation against orders AGAIN.

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from shouting “Bobby told you not to go in. He told you not to risk it. That the floors were too unstable”

“There could have been someone left” Buck replies “Someone needed to check. It had to be me”

“Why? Because you’re fucking super human? The great Buck Buckley from the 118 who scoffs at danger, has survived a tsunami, getting trapped beneath a fire truck, throwing a blood clot, and was officially dead for three minutes after getting struck by FUCKING LIGHTNING!”

“How do you know about all of that?”

“That isn’t what matters”

“I think it is” Buck takes a step toward Tommy “Have you been stalking me babe?”

Noticing the mischievous smile Tommy shakes his head “Oh no no no. You are not going to adorable your way out of this”

Bucks shoulders sag and he sighs “I’m ok Tommy. Not even a scratch”

“I can see that” Tommy lets out a deep exhale “I understand the risks of the job. I’m not like your exes who would get all distraught over you removing a cat from a tree. But for fucks sake, you are worse than the EOD guys when I was in Afghanistan with the walking - or in your case running or jumping- right into the worst case scenario with no thought of your own safety” Rubbing his forehead he continues “Evan. You’ve got a savior complex and it’s noble and selfless..”

Buck cuts him off “It’s not a savior complex. I’m not stupid. I understand that sometimes no matter what you do you can’t save them. But sometimes maybe you can, and in those cases, I just make the most sense”

Tommy crosses his arms to keep from strangling him or kissing him stupid again to shut him up “How is that? How does you possibly dying make any sense?”

“They all have people that need them. They all have someone they belong to and..” he trails off with a small shrug

And Tommy hears the words he doesn’t say. He is…expendable. And just like that all of the anger drains out of Tommy to be replaced by a something else. “Evan” he says softly.

“I know” Buck interjects “I know that people love me and they would be sad, especially Maddie. And I don’t want to die. But I don’t want someone who has someone they need, and that needs them, to die either. I couldn’t live with that”

Tommy closes his eyes. This man..How can he be so adorable and selfless, yet so completely stubborn and a pain in the ass about his own safety?

Once he calms his thoughts and finds the words he wants to say, he opens his eyes to see Evan looking at him calmly. Like he expects Tommy to see the sense in what he said.

“Evan. I know we haven’t really put a label on this. On us. But that’s because I don’t want to pressure you. I’m the first man you’ve been with and you’re still figuring out who you are, and I understand that. But let me clarify something for you. I need you to come back to me. Ok?”

Buck blinks “Huh”

“I need you to come back to me” he repeats “Like Bobby needs Athena, and Karen needs Hen, and yes like Maddie needs Chimney.

“And Jee-un. Jee-yun needs her dad”

“Yes, and in that same vein, Christopher needs Eddie” he agrees, trying not to give in to his exasperation. “I need you. I am that person who needs you to come home Evan”

Evan stops whatever he was about to say. Startled awareness creeping into his eyes..Tommy sees a mix of emotions flit across his face. Surprise, joy, fear, everything just races across that expressive face and then Evan sinks onto the barstool at his kitchen island. His hands coming up to cover his face.

Tommy’s stomach clench’s. He pushed too hard, too soon “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I do care and want you to come home but..”

Buck looks up at him “Don’t you dare take that back”

“I’m not taking it back. I just don’t want to push you”

Something else crosses Evans face at that..but he tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth. “You aren’t pushing. You aren’t pressuring me. I am in this just as much as you. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say without it sounding lame and emo as shit”

“Did you just hear me? You can say anything to me Evan. Whatever it is”

Buck rolls his bottom lip between his teeth again. “I’ve never questioned why I do this…I mean it’s the whole reason I was born. To save my brother. To save Daniel. That’s what I do, that’s who I am. It’s why I became a firefighter. To be the one who saves people. The 118 is my family. And I would do anything to protect them from harm”

“I’m not asking you to stop. I would never ask that. I just want to remind you that you matter to a lot of people, and you also have someone who is waiting for you”

Bucks voice is thick “I know that. I get that. But…Nobody has ever. I have never belonged to anyone, like that”

In a sense of deja vu Tommy closes the short distance to Buck. Tipping his face up, he kisses him. Not soft and gentle like their first kiss in this kitchen. But bold and deep. Branding Evan with his mouth. Pulling back he says fiercely “You belong to me like that. For as long as you want..you belong to me and I belong to you, like that”

“I will ALWAYS need you to come back to me Evan”

ao3 like per request

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream confessing to you. 

AN: Wow this one was long too because I got carried away.

Mark Lee

Mark would be the type that wanted to keep it quiet and private. Just the two of you. In your apartment, over two cups of coffee. It was a peaceful moment where in you two are enjoying the peace when Mark couldn't stop himself from staring at you. He likes you ever since you two were in high school. He doesn't want to confess because he's afraid of ruining your friendship. But in that moment, he just feels like doing it. So he holds your hand, starting with something like, "There's something I wanted to say," and then before you could say anything, he tells you that he likes you. You'll be flustered with the sudden confession, but only smiles, confessing to him that you also like him too. He'll be happy to hear your confession and once the tension is gone, you two will start teasing each other, asking when did you two start liking each other.

Huang Renjun

Renjun would do it during a late night walk from a coffee shop run. You two just finished a huge school paper and are now on the way to your place because Renjun wanted to make sure that you get home before he goes to his place. Your neighborhood has always been this quiet, making Renjun nervous. This is the moment that he's been waiting for. For months, he has been pining over you and it was a risk for him to confess to you, but he just wanted to tell you so that he wanted to know if he should stop pining over you or not. So when he grabs your hand, you were surprised, but Renjun acts like it was nothing even swaying it lightly. His hands never left yours until you two reached your place, that's where he confesses to you about his feelings. Surprised, you weren't able to answer his confession because he ran away quickly! (You texted him that you like him too.)

Lee Jeno

It's been bugging him for months! Jeno's pining for you is so hard to watch especially for his friends, they think that he should just confess to you because they don't like seeing Jeno's love strucked pining over you and the other one is that, they know that you like him back! (they're just keeping it as a secret.) So after many convincing, Jeno mustered up the courage. He said at first, he'll do it through text but he couldn't find the right word to do so, so he asked you if he can call and you said yes. As soon as you said hi, Jeno bursts. Literally confessed to you so fast that you weren't able to pick up anything other than, "I like you." he seems so out of breath after the confession but apologizes to you because of the sudden confession but you only laughed it off and told him that you like him too!

Lee Donghyuck

I feel like Haechan follows some superstitions like when you confessed to someone during the first fall of snow, they'll be yours forever something like that. Haechan thinks that it's true that's why he asked you to meet him during the first snow, as predicted by the weather forecast. You met him at the school's playground and Haechan thinks that you look cute in your winter coat, even placing his scarf around you so that you'll be more warm. He looks at the sky and then thinks that any minute now, it's going to snow but it didn't. He'll ask you to wait for a few minutes glancing at the sky once again, making you realized what's happening. You told him that he doesn't need the first snow to happen, because you like him too. Haechan would be in relief to hear those words from you, you two will end up laughing because of the situation. When he walked you home, that's when the snow fell, making you two be in awe with the weather. 

Na Jaemin

Oh I think that Jaemin would confess to you at the spur of the moment. It'll be on a vacation trip. The two of you are sitting on the chairs, watching the waves crash while the moon glisten on the ocean. You two are just sitting there, talking about the future and something deep, like what would happen to you and your friend group once you guys graduated and you two are just laughing and being silly, until Jaemin stops and glances at you. That's when it caught you off-guard that he's been staring for too long. "Do you know that I've always liked you?" and you tried to laugh it off, telling him to stop fooling around until he says that he's serious. You two will have a staring contest, his eyes looking at you lovingly. Waiting for an answer from you. Instead of answering him, you pulled Jaemin for a kiss, which surprised him but he only smile as he leans to kiss you once more. 

Zhong Chenle

"After this, there's something important that I wanted to say to you," would probably a hint Chenle will give you. He's the type who'll confess after a huge event, let's say, you're the main star of a musical prod in your university. You've been working hard and have been practicing nonstop for the show, and then Chenle told you that he's going to say something to you after you finish the show because he wants you to focus on the prod first. But it distracts you more! because you're curious about what he wants to say to you! You tried to ask Chenle about it but he brushes it off. So at the day of your final show, Chenle shows up with a bouquet of flowers on his hands. It'll be just the two of you, somewhere backstage, hidden from the crowd. He'll say first that he's proud of you, and that he likes you which made you cry, overwhelmed with joy. 

Park Jisung

You know those romance high school anime where they confess during graduation? Yeah that's how Jisung confesses to you. It'll be during your graduation because it's a risk for Jisung. It's now or never, so if you even rejected him, at least he won't be seeing you anymore. He'll be the type to text you to meet him at your classroom or maybe at the school's rooftop (if you guys are allowed there lmao.) When you reached the meeting place, you'll see him with his diploma, wearing his school uniform and you'll be caught off-guard at how incredibly handsome Jisung is. He'll approach you and then it took him a minute to say word, eventually, stumbling through his confession. "I don't need your answer yn, I just want to tell you I like you before we part ways." he added. And instead of answering him, you gave Jisung a hug, surprising him with your action. 

[scoonsalicious]

6.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, nudity, Bucky's lies come back to bite his ass.

Please note: I'll be taking a break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th to focus on writing, and will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Porn. The last chapter was porn.

A/N: Sorry, besties; not sure what happened. I set this up to post at 445 per usual, and when I came back on, I saw it still hadn't gone up, so I'm doing it manually. I apologize for this screw up!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and Major. He had to pee, but he didn’t want to get up. God, he never wanted to get up. If he could stay wrapped up with her like this, for the rest of his life, he thought, he would die happy. The very idea struck him like a brick– he’d given a lot of thought to his own death over the years, but never, not once, did he ever consider the possibility that he might actually die happy until this very moment. 

If she was in his life when he went, he realized, he very well could.

Major shifted in her sleep and snuggled further into Bucky’s chest with a contented sigh, and he felt his heart swell. If he wasn’t careful, at the rate his feelings were going, he was at risk of proposing to her before lunch. 

After about fifteen more minutes of blissfully watching Major sleep in his arms, Bucky couldn’t hold off his bladder any longer. Gently extricating himself from Major’s embrace so as not to disturb her, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom. 

After he’d finished and washed his hands, he made his way back toward Major’s bed. As he passed by the string of clothes he’d discarded the night before, he heard a buzzing coming from his pants. He reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID.

Lily. Again.

Bucky sighed and took himself back to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him as he accepted the call.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of Major’s whirlpool tub.

“Hey, Jamie,” she said, and Bucky could immediately tell something was wrong. She sounded… off, distressed. “Listen,” she continued, “I know you and Sam probably had a late night last night, and I hate bothering you…”

“What’s wrong, Lil?” Bucky asked, growing concerned now. 

“Well, I drove out to Langston Park to run the trails,” Lily began, “and I don’t know if I ran over a nail or had a slow leak, or what, but when I got back to the car, my tire was flat. I was kind of hoping you could meet me up here and help me change it?”

Bucky ran a hand over his stubble. “Shit,” he said. “You know I would in a heartbeat, Lil, but–”

“No, yeah,” Lily interrupted him. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure someone will drive by and I can flag them down for help–”

“Lily Anne McIntyre, you are not going to wave down a stranger and just hope that they’re not a murderer or a rapist,” Bucky said into the phone, a little louder than he intended. “Listen, I’m on my way, but I’m in the city, so it’s going to take me a little while, okay? Just… just stay in your car with the doors locked until I get there.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Jamie!” Lily’s voice was full of relief. “You’re my hero! I owe you, big time!”

Bucky cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Give me about forty-five minutes to get to you, okay? And remember, lock. your. doors.” 

“I promise,” Lily agreed before ending the call. 

Bucky stood up from the edge of the tub and went back into the bedroom and quietly put his clothes back on. Sitting down at the edge of Major’s side of the bed, he leaned down and began pressing kisses to her shoulder and collarbone until she stirred and started to stretch. 

With a lazy moan that sent the blood straight to Bucky’s dick, Major sleepily blinked her eyes open. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she asked him, her voice seductively husky with sleep. “Come back to bed.”

Bucky wanted to. Oh god, he really, really wanted to. “I’m so sorry, sugar,” he told her, leaning down to give her a proper kiss. 

“Bucky,” she laughed, pulling back from him, “I just woke up; I’m sure I have horrible morning breath.”

“Like I would ever care.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, gently running his tongue along her lips so she opened her mouth to him. 

After a long moment, they broke apart, and Bucky rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said softly. “But I’ve got to go.”

Major nuzzled her cheek against his. “So, don’t,” she murmured. “Stay.”

Bucky sighed. “I can’t. Lily’s got a flat tire; she’s waiting on me to come help her change it.” 

Major let out a puff of air through her lips. “Well, give me five minutes to get dressed and I can come with you,” she offered hopefully. 

“I’d love that, doll,” Bucky said, frowning, “but Lily’s still pissed off about the bar and…” he ran a hand behind his neck, suddenly realizing how stupid this was going to sound, “I haven’t told her I’ve been seeing you.”

The change that came over Major was nearly imperceptible, but Bucky clocked it, all the same. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and she pulled back from him by a hair.

“So,” Major began slowly, “where did she think you were last night when she called you, then? You said you’d already told her what you were up to. If she didn’t know you were with me, what did she think you were doing?”

“I told her I was having a guys’ night out in the city with Sam,” Bucky admitted, hating himself now for even deeming the lie necessary in the first place.

“I see.” The words were clipped, Major’s voice void of any emotion, and Bucky knew he’d fucked up. Immensely. “Well, you better get going, then, if Lily’s waiting on you.”

“Major.” Bucky put a hand on her arm, but she got up out of the bed, dragging the topsheet with her to wrap around herself and keep her body covered from him, as if now, suddenly, after everything they’d already done together, she no longer wanted him to see her naked. “Can we just–”

“You should go, Bucky,” she said again, not meeting his eye, and Bucky felt like absolute shit. 

“Can I call you later?” he asked, and he heard the note of desperation in his own voice, but Major just shrugged a shoulder. He tried to lean in to her to give her a kiss goodbye, but she stood there, still as a statue, so he simply pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed before showing himself to the door.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up, and he’d blown it. She’d probably never want to see him again, and honestly, could he blame her? He’d lied about being with her, like she was some kind of dirty secret. Sam had been right, though Bucky would never admit it to him. Why was he letting Lily’s opinion dictate how he lived his life?

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[writtensweethearts]

Sweet Nothings

Read part two here: Unspoken Confessions Pairing: Eddie munson x GN!reader Enemies to lovers ? word count: +1k CW: mentions of blood, death, lmk if i missed something A/N: this is my first time posting a blurb or a piece in general for the public, please be kind and i hope you enjoy!

“God, I swear if you die on me I’ll kill you.” he chokes out angrily, but it lacks any heat. You grin up at him, watching his chocolate eyes fill with tears. 

You suddenly wonder why you hadn’t seen him. 

The barely there freckles, mud splattered cheeks and wild curly hair, the different shades of brown in his glassy eyes. 

His harsh words a complete opposite of his gentle hold, you watch as his fingers push against the angry open wounds of your stomach, trying to keep the blood at bay. The crazed look of his eyes as he darts his head around, waiting for Henderson, another bat, anything. 

“Calm down pretty boy, least you can do is say some sweet nothings to a dying girl.” 

You watch in slight awe as his eyes find yours, tears finally spilling from his lash line, wondering if maybe this time you’ve pushed him too far.

“Don’t say that shit,” he hisses, “you’re not dying. Not on my watch sweetheart.”

You smile at that, the nickname lacking it’s usual mocking tone. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Munson. You know better than that.”

If he responded you can’t recall, eyes drooping, sleep evading you, the noise of the Upside Down drowning out.

You rouse from the gentle shake of your head, Eddie’s ringed fingers grasping your chin

“Come on, you’ve got to keep your eyes open.” Voice pleading.

“What do I get in return?” He scoffed at that but it comes out more like a breathy sigh of relief, taking your snarky response as a sign of hope. He realizes his response comes a second too late.

You stare at him, eyes a bit dazed and mouth pulled taut, a strange air lingers filling the empty space from a missed witty remark. He can’t help what he says next.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Now you’re the stunned one.

“What?” “I don’t need you saving me princess, look at where that got you.”

You frowned at that. Shit, Eddie thinks he’s struck a nerve. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, even if you were the girl he’s bickered with for over a year now, constantly exchanging snippy remarks. Maybe he would’ve been able to give you those sweet nothings you’d asked for earlier, had he felt confident enough to say them. But the humid air of the Upside down and the feel of your sticky, warm blood coating his hands has made him angry. Angry at Hawkins for dragging him into shit like this, angry at the Upside Down for existing and upturning his life, angry at himself for allowing you to be at the center of it all. 

It should’ve been him. He’d jumped off the boat, diving into a world unknown, fighting away demonic bats, and risking his life for the good of the world. He’d been ready to let it all go, but you’d come in, chest heaving, Steve’s bat swinging. The two of you on the same team, for once. And it wasn’t until the last bat was down, when he’d turn around yelling and celebrating victory, that he’d noticed. You were holding your stomach, arm dropping the bat you’d held so tightly seconds before. He watched, dumbfounded as you lightly pulled your shirt, revealing large, gaping gashes all across your abdomen. Eddie would never forget the haunted look in your eyes as you dragged your gaze up to his, your body wobbling as you forced yourself to stand still, as if you didn’t want him to see you weak. 

In that moment the world was a blur, he’d called your name hoarsley, afraid, afraid you’d respond with a small pain-filled voice rather the boisterous, mocking tone you used whenever you spoke to him. Afraid to see you, larger than life you, growing weaker and smaller and so unfamiliar.

And yet here you were, his knees digging into your back as he tried to hold your limp body up, looking at him with the same fire in your eyes. This, this is what he’d been wishing for, hadn’t he? But there was something unusual about your gaze, if he hadn’t known any better he’d have said you were hurt by his words.

You blinked, head turning to the side and Eddie cursed. He didn’t know how to act with you, behind all the mean words and heated arguments, he wasn’t sure how to move forward. So here you were, blood soaking through your clothes, onto his, and he was spewing ungrateful words to the girl who’s losing her life from saving his. A girl he’s never been able to properly behave around, a girl who, behind her back, he’d watched fondly with honey coated eyes. 

“I.. I’m sorry.” He mumbled out, your eyes snapping back to his, “God I’m so so sorry.”

His voice wobbling as reality began to settle in, “It should’ve been me. It should’ve. I’m repeating senior year and not for the first time, I’m being hunted for murder, and you. You’ve got such a big life to live, a great one, and I just-” His rambling comes to an end as you’re fingers gingerly swipe a stray curl behind his ears.

“Hey.” You smile up at him, and God, if it didn’t make Eddie’s heart want to burst at the sight of it. “It’s okay.” You watch him, his eyes doubtful, his hands never leaving you as he keeps pressure on your wounds, “I mean come on, I had to, you’ve got to get back and show them you can make it through highschool. Thought you said this was ‘your year.’” 

He laughs but it’s all watery and choked, and it makes your chest hurt in an unfamiliar way. It’s getting harder and harder to fight the sleep taking over, the lofty sound of Eddie’s voice whispering the sweet nothings you’d playfully asked for, dreams of a better life, swearing on his heart that he’ll get you out of this hell hole, safe, alive. You send him a sleepy smile, knowing he’s making more promises he can’t keep, but his eyes are shining with tears so you return the gesture and whisper another, “It’s okay, Eds.” before you let his voice lull you to bed.

[frustratedasatruar]

I've seen a number of antizionists argue for the immediate destruction of Israel on Anarchist grounds.

Lets just pretend for a second that this is an argument that they are making in-good-faith.

I'm an Anarchist. I don't like states.

This said, Israel seems like it may very well be the worst state to start with trying to dissolve? Like, if a state's territory is reorganized into autonomously self-governing communes, there will be a transitional period between when the State's military was defending its boarders and when the communes are able to organize the same. There would be a hiccup, even in somewhere like Israel or Switzerland where everybody's been in the military, in the territory's ability to resist outside invasion.

And Israel is constantly under immediate threat of foreign invasion.

And its not as if Israel has any kind of strategic depth; its the size of New Jersey! You very much cannot trade land for time there!

And all of Israel's neighbors are, at best, hard right authoritarians who would not tolerate any kind of leftist movement any where near as much as the current Israeli state, and, more practically speaking, have actively genocidal ambitions against the Israeli people.

These are not good conditions for getting a Free Territory off the ground!

Like, it would be one thing if, I dunno, Italy and Spain were already reorganized into Anarchist systems and were potentially willing to intervene against anyone trying to crush a nascent Israeli Black Army. I would still be weary, as Israel is still very very small and her neighbors actively want to eradicate her populace, but I would feel space to talk about that because maybe, if everything went right, that could be managed. Theoretically. (In the real world, there is also the question of Antisemitism to contend with, and to what degree that would have a depressive effect on the willingness of christian communes to come to the aid of Jews. There are far more than enough Strasserites in the modern day for this to be a very real concern.)

But that is not the world we live in. Pragmatically speaking, it is absurd to want to build up a global Anarchist movement starting with overthrowing Israel.

Like, fuck, if the Southern Levant is where you want to start, I would advocate somewhere like, I don't know, Palestine, where anarchist militants would have a negotiating position with the Israelis; able to offer an end to Hamas or other terrorist-groups' ability to operate in territory the anarchists control, in exchange for IDF ambivalence or even material support.

You know, a type of deal that could never in a million years be struck between Israeli anarchists and Hamas.

Even if I imagine a scenario where Anarchy replaces the modern State-based global paradigm, I just can't think of any mechanism by which Israel wouldn't be in at least the latter half of territories to be reorganized thusly... at least, not without wildly unacceptable risk of mass ethnic cleansing.

I can only conclude that any anarcho-strasserites who actually think Israel is a remotely realistic nation to focus on dissolving are high on their own supply.

[thenightfolknetwork]

How do I explain to my nemesis that capturing me and trying to feed me to space sharks is fine, but attempting to erase me from existence by capturing a time god is going to far?

I hate my nemesis. Most of our interactions are great. He threatens to blow up a planet unless I turn myself in, I somehow outsmart him and wreck his plans and somehow get called a hero despite potentially maybe you can't prove anything causing a few legal incidents along the way. Hey, a creature has to eat right? Even if I am from another planet. Anyway, most of our interactions are fine! He threatens my adoptive family, or an innocent town that gave me refuge, or comes up with a plan to control more of the galaxy, or any number of things. He tends to get a bit weird about organics, but every good nemesis has quirks, right?

The problem is when his plans involve or risk much larger issues. Threatening to turn everyone in the sector into robots with his new space station is fine, for example. Kidnapping me and trying to brainwash me is fine too. But... One time he got so upset at me beating him, his next plan involved waking up a terror older than the galaxy that ate energy and let it loose with very very little control over it! And another time he accidentally replaced a planet with an almost identical planet from another dimension because he missed hitting me with it! And well... He must have been really upset with the last time I beat him because the plan I just foiled involved using a time machine to make sure he killed me during our first encounter. And of course I stopped him, I always do in the long term, even if he wins the smaller battles. But I've stopped other villains before and if I had died then, I would never have stopped them and the entire galaxy would have been destroyed! Including your planet! I have even helped my nemesis beat some villains together! But it feels like his plans are just going to get more and more worryingly dangerous to those around us... I'm just hoping we can go back to simple planet destroying lasers and abducting random people to turn into evil robots again before this entire universe is just... Gone.

Oh dear, this does sound troublesome. As you say, it's one thing when your nemesis attacks you or the people close to you – it's quite another when he's putting the rest of us all at risk, too!

I am struck by how impersonal some of these large-scale attacks feel. Letting an ancient terror loose in the universe is hardly the kind of thoughtful, targeted attack one might hope to inspire in one's nemesis. After all, that personal connection is rather a key component in a nemesis relationship. Otherwise, you and he might as well be nothing but garden variety antagonists.

You didn't mention how long you've been his nemesis, but I think from the number of encounters you've mentioned, I can infer it's a fairly well established relationship. I wonder if perhaps he's feeling a little insecure in the relationship, and is acting out to compensate.

Take a moment to consider – when was the last time you showed your appreciation for his nefarious plans? Have you lamented his wicked wiles in any recent interviews? Left a picture of his face on your dartboard for him to see while he's infiltrating your secret base? Fallen to your knees screaming his name while he makes a daring escape from the jaws of justice?

Try and find some ways to show your nemesis that you appreciate his efforts, and to reinforce the deep hatred and malice that lies between the two of you. Make it clear that, while you might fight other opponents from time to time, none of them come close to him for sheer personal vitriol. It's not enough to be your nemesis in name – he needs to really feel your spite.

You mentioned that you always win in the long term. There's nothing wrong with that per se – plenty of nemeses enjoy such a dynamic – but I'm concerned the situation may not be as satisfying for your nemesis as it is for you.

Is there any way you might be able to redress that balance somewhat, offering him the opportunity for some significant gains without putting the entire universe at risk? I don't mean that you should let him win on purpose, of course. If he were ever to discover you'd done such a thing, it would only undermine his confidence even more.

But perhaps you could concoct a scheme for him to foil that speaks especially to his skills, where the odds are stacked against you – and, crucially, where his victory would give him a genuine sense of achievement.

I can't speak to specifics, not knowing more about your situation. Off the top of my head, though, I'm imagining an encounter where the loyalty of a trusted sidekick is at stake, for example, or your own standing in the public eye – something at once significant, but deeply personal.

Hopefully, these twin tactics will work to assuage his doubts and reassure him that he needn't put the whole universe in danger to be a worthy foe. Throw down the gauntlet, and remind why you're nemeses in the first place: because there's nobody in the world who knows and loathes him quite like you.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[katanablue]

Was going through a massive doc I have of prompts and came across one that gave me a brain blast.

Set after Leo leaves to Central America, a year or so when Raph becomes the NW.

Warnings: Angst, hurt, little to no comfort, Raph yelling at you and vice versa, no happy ending

You had an inkling that your boyfriend was the Nightwatcher, you don’t know exactly when or what it was that gave you that unsettling feeling in your stomach but you just knew.

His sleep schedule was all kinds of messed up, more so than usual. He seemed angrier and more on edge, patience seeming to run thin for everyone.

Including you.

Never mind the fact that he always seemed to be sporting a fresh bruise somewhere on his body. It’s not like he can hide them from you either since he only wears protective pads and his mask. He tells you that it’s from patrolling with his brothers or from sparring with Splinter. If that were the case then why didn’t Mikey or Don have the same bruises? Why did Raph seem to divert your attention away from the topic whenever you tried to pry more?

But then again, who are you to not believe him, your boyfriend has never lied to you before so why would he now?

Still, it’s just another piece to the mysterious puzzle, one that seems to be never ending the more you try and put it together.

Deep down you knew. Knew that he was out there alone and putting himself in these dangerous situations without any help. Whenever you saw a story on the news about how ‘The Nightwatcher Struck Again’, you’d immediately turn to look at Raphael to gauge his reaction, hoping that maybe you can pick up any subtle sign on his face.

But he kept himself stoic, expression blank as he listened to the coverage.

You had asked Donnie, Mikey and even Splinter if they’ve noticed anything off with him but all they told you was that he was struggling with Leo’s absence. It’s believable, because that’s what they believe.

Casey didn’t know any better, saying that Raph was just having a hard time adjusting with the lack of crime fighting and order between him and his brothers. Just because Shredder was dead, didn’t mean that crime stopped. In fact it was at an all time high; especially with the Purple Dragons now trying to take over every inch of city they could.

Then the late night appearances started happening.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to show up at your apartment unannounced prior to Leo leaving. Nowadays he only showed up when he was battered and bruised, looking as if he just got out of a dogfight. And at first you didn’t ask, having tended to some of his injuries before. You presumed that he had a scuffle or two with one of his brothers or maybe he and Casey just got a bit too rough with one another.

That’s when you vaguely recalled hearing Mikey talk about how Splinter forbade them from doing any patrols until Leo returned.

You nearly asked him one night right then and there when he showed up on your fire escape at 3 a.m, splattered in bruises and cuts, nearly halfway unconscious. You had hauled him in and laid him on your bed, on the verge of tears as he bled onto your sheets. You begged and begged for him to tell you what happened but he refused, just wanting you to clean him up and go to sleep holding you in his arms.

And you listened of course, not wanting to push and risk having him shut you out completely. But that night replayed constantly in your head and it’s what drove you for your next course of action.

It was driving you crazy not knowing, and it made you plan to deliberately put yourself in danger just to see if he would come and save you.

Luckily for you, you only had to put yourself at risk just once.

It’s over before it even really began, a long chain weapon zipped right in front of you and into the skull of the thug who attempted to rob you at gun point. You gasped and shielded your face, turning away from the man who was cradling his bleeding head and trying to get up off the floor. You heard a loud metallic thud somewhere in the alley, the footsteps getting closer to you.

You looked up right into the eyes of the infamous Nightwatcher.

It felt like time stood still as he looked at you, alarms ringing in Raphael’s head as he tried to figure out why the hell you were out so late at night.

You practically screamed at yourself to look at him entirely, take in his whole form before he left. Your eyes roamed haphazardly over him; from his metal helmet, down his right arm, all the way to his gloves—

“Hold your breath.”

You hardly had anytime to register his words before he snapped something to the ground, a cloud of gray smoke enveloping your vision. You covered your nose and mouth with your hand, shutting your eyes and waving away the smoke. He ran past you to snatch up the goon, not even sparing you another glance as he hurried out the alley. You went after him blindly, seeing the guy tied up to a light pole and just barely catching the Nightwatcher pull off on his all too familiar motorcycle and drive away.

You went back into the alley, searching the ground until you found it; the capsule. You’d seen these before, not many people, let alone any crime fighters use this type.

And you remember exactly who the mutant was that showed them to you.

As soon as you got home you texted Raph that you needed to see him, hardly giving him any time to respond before you called. You were urgent in your message, pleading for him to come over and explaining that you almost got robbed but were saved by the Nightwatcher.

You felt awful because it felt like you were lying to him, luring him into a trap.

In a way you almost were, because you practically had solid evidence that he is the Nightwatcher. It’s like you acquired the last piece of the puzzle and all you had to do was put it into place.

Raphael knew what you were doing and he hated it. Hated that he allowed himself to be so careless, hated that he got himself into this predicament in the first place, hated that he knew that if he didn’t go to you then it would make him seem like the worlds most horrible boyfriend.

There’s a part of him that hopes you haven’t put two and two together, that you were just in dire need of some comfort after a nearly traumatic event. But when he takes that first step on your fire escape and looks into your window, seeing you standing there like a nervous wreck…

He knows you know.

The silence is uncomfortable, like a thick heavy blanket that makes it nearly impossible to breathe. You feel like there’s something wrapped around your lungs the longer Raph goes without saying anything. He can see one of your hands clenched into a fist, your shaking barely visible and he wants nothing more than to close the distance between you two, scoop you into his arms and kiss you breathless to distract you.

Eventually you can’t take the silence anymore, opening your hand and tossing the smoke capsule onto the carpet between you two.

It’s like the blanket doubles in thickness when his eyes land on it.

“Where—“

“Don’t. Do not fucking lie to me, Raphael.” You keep your voice steady, forcing yourself to maintain your composure and to not completely lose it at your boyfriend.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out harshly, fingers flexing against his palms as he looks between you and the empty smoke pellet.

“I can explain.”

“Why don’t you say it first.”

Another deep inhale, followed by his hand coming to run down his face.

“You’re the Nightwatcher.” Your tone gets softer but it doesn’t lessen the impact of your words nor the tears that start to line your eyes.

You hate how Raph is able to keep up his poker face, like you didn’t just reveal his longtime secret of the past year.

He only gives you a simple nod and that seems to finally break the dam.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Can we please talk about this tomorrow?” He asks, straining as he tries to keep calm.

“No,” You say, actually appalled that he would have the audacity to say that. “You need to explain yourself—“

“What the hell is there to explain!” His voice raises in volume, hands going up in the air in exasperation. “I’m protectin’ the city, I’m keepin’ people safe, I’m doin what I’ve always done!”

“But by yourself, Raph? Are you crazy!?” You fight back, holding back your anger and tears as your emotions start to overflow.

“Listen, I’ve been doin’ just fine, okay? I don’t need you breathin’ down my back now that you know.” He rolls his eyes when you scoff, folding his arms over his plastron and shaking his head.

“You don’t want me to be concerned? News flash, Hothead— that’s what loved ones do!” You couldn’t believe this, that he’s somehow turning this around on you when he’s the one who’s been lying about his late night activities for so long.

“Whatever,” He sneers, waving you off with a flick of his hand and turning towards the fire escape.

“Don’t you dare leave. We’re not done talking about this.” You step closer to him, your slipper crunching over the empty capsule as you get closer to him.

“What the fuck else is there to talk about? Hm? Because I’m sure as hell ain’t gonna stop bein’ the Nightwatcher.” He growls over his shoulder, not even giving you the respect of saying it to your face completely,

This isn’t Raph, not really. This isn’t the turtle you’ve come to fall in love with, the one who used to take you for rides around the city on his bike at random intervals of the night or the one who surprised you with a big bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting on your fire escape with a card that said ‘happy birthday, sweetheart’ right at midnight.

Not the same Raph who held you close and kissed your tears away the first time you made love because you were so overwhelmed by everything. He held you close and whispered nothing but praise and adoration for you, waiting until you showed him that beautiful smile before he took you to a pleasurable new height.

The same Raph who definitely had his faults whether it was by accidentally hitting you a bit too hard during training or the one who’d shut you out but immediately open up once he was ready.

You know that Raph is still somewhere in there, hidden within the castle of walls and laying beneath all that anger and hatred he’s built up over time due to Leo being gone.

There’s a brief fleeting moment that passes in your brain that maybe you should’ve been more patient with him, that if you had just waited out a little longer then maybe he would’ve told you instead of you having to confront him like this.

“You know what, no, how bout we talk bout the fact that you put yourself in danger! Just to prove something that you already knew! Are you fuckin’ thick in the head?” Now he whirls around to face you, his brow set so deep that all you want to do is reach up and smooth it out with your fingers.

“It’s not like you would’ve told me if I asked you! You could hardly admit it just now—“

“My business is my fuckin’ business, okay?” He gestures towards himself, tapping at his plastron and glaring down at you. “And you need to learn when to stop stickin’ your nose into shit that ain’t yours!”

He hates how he’s letting his anger consume him, letting it take over and manipulate his body like a puppet. He feels himself start to get out of control and he knows he’s got to get out there before he says something he’ll regret.

“Fine,” You croak out, the quiver in your tone not going unnoticed by him.

But it seems it’s already too late.

“You want me to stop getting in your business?”

Shit shit shit, don’t say it.

Please don’t say it.

“Wish granted. I’m done.”

You turn away so you don’t have to see the way Raphael’s face fall at your words, how his brow immediately smooths out and how his lips part in shock.

“Wha— no, sweetheart. You can’t—“ he reaches out towards you and just faintly grazes your arm. His heart falls to his stomach when you pull away, like his touch burned your skin and you had to get away before it spread like wildfire.

“I will not stand by and watch you throw yourself in danger, night after night, with absolutely no backup. I will not be waiting by my window every night, wondering if you’re going to show up with one foot on deaths door. I respected your privacy but only asked that you be careful and be mindful about what you’re doing.”

Raphael stares hard at you, fingers clenching into fists as he chooses his next few words wisely.

“So that’s it then? It’s over?”

You can tell he’s doing all he can to not break down and beg for your forgiveness. Even the next sentence being on the tip of your tongue has you shedding tears, wiping them away quickly and willing yourself to finish speaking.

“You pushed me away, refused to even give me the grace to tell me what you were doing, instead having me back you up into a corner and practically force it out of you.” You inhale shakily, saying it before you can fully stop yourself.

“It’s over.” You whisper, crying more freely now.

He looks at you crestfallen, shaking his head in disbelief as your words rings over and over in his head. He doesn’t say anything as he turns away from you and back out the window. He looks over his shoulder one last time, hating that his last memory of you is going to be you standing there heartbroken with a tear streaked face.

He wants to scream and shout; at you and himself. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you while he pleads for you to forgive him and that he’ll do better, that he’ll work on his vulnerability more. He tells himself that all you need is space, that with time you’ll take him back and you can go back to the way things were. That you can adjust to him being the Nightwatcher.

“I’m sorry.” He leaves you with that, jumping off the fire escape and disappearing into the bleak night.

You believe him and that thought makes you cry even harder.

[strlingsav]

Sequel to this fic, inspired by @simpforghost, asking if I'd planned on making part two. Couldn't resist after you mentioned it. Thanks for the love 🫶🏻

Drive: Two

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You'd arrived at base- a towering, intimidating fortress surrounded by harsh metal walls and barbed-wire fences.

After your encounter with Ghost, you knew nothing between you would be the same. Not the way you saw him, talked to him, even looked at him. Now you knew how he felt, better yet how you felt. It wouldn't be easy putting on a facade, especially in front of your Captain and troop-mates.

You'd dug yourself into a hole, acting without thinking of the consequences that would come after. You'd forgotten the very real emotional factor that would follow. He'd seen the most intimate parts of you, there was no returning from that.

You weren't delusional. You knew Ghost wasn't a family man, wouldn't be getting down on one knee to propose, would never take you on a date, but the intimate interaction was there to stay. You'd never be able to rid your mind of how his hands and lips felt on your body, how he felt inside you.

You were beyond paranoid, worried you'd give it away with the wrong look or words. You could never go back to the awe-struck, helpless Sergeant you'd been before, waiting for a crumb of attention from your Lieutenant. He was pursuing you.

You climbed out of the SUV, falling in stride with your Lieutenant and the two of you wandered through the security gates, toward the doors.

You peered at Ghost through your periphery; he was stoic and cold as usual. You were a bit relieved, though somewhat disappointed. It looked all too easy for him to appear unaffected beside you, as if he hadn't had his head buried between your thighs a few hours ago. You envied him for that.

"You're starin' again," He commented, breaking the silence.

You huffed quietly, resuming your silent march to the entrance.

Once at the doors, he grabbed it for you. You strode through first, but not before he leaned in, his voice in your ear as he said, "Wasn't lyin' when I said we'd pick it up later."

You knew. You knew he didn't lie. It was another thing you'd picked up on from your months of surveying. It was fucking infuriating the way he always said exactly what he meant, and in this case, both infuriating and arousing. It bit at your spine, a lick of heat forcing a flush over your chest and cheeks. Your gaze was trapped by his eyes for a few moments, like the world only existed for the two of you, before it was pulled away by Price's voice.

"Where the hell have you two been?"

"Had to stop for a piss, Sir," Ghost answered, saving you from Price's wrath.

He hummed, "Right. Laswell's waitin', let's get on with it."

The briefing was short, though detailed. Surely, Price and Laswell would hold another before too long, one with input from General Shepherd who was chomping at the bit. Still, preparation was in the works, a long way to go before there was enough intel to follow Hassan, to infiltrate any part of his operation.

A few days passed and you'd hardly spoken to Ghost, but his gaze followed you everywhere. Watching, waiting for the opportunity to finally have you alone, to take what was his.

You filled the silence with your squadmates instead. You focused solely on the mission, trying desperately to ignore the set of eyes on your back. You could feel him around every turn. No matter the substance of conversation, even Soap's ridiculous sense of humour couldn't quite distract from the heavy weight of anticipation in your stomach.

You almost didn't want to be alone with Ghost, didn't want to put yourself in the position to give in to him. It would just be something else you'd have to hide. You knew he didn't care. He wasn't shy about watching you. A look over your shoulder, and he was there, locked in on you. He wasn't hiding his wandering eyes anymore.

You finished locking up your gear in the armoury, heading to your room to call it a night. Ghost's voice gnawed at you, the assertion that he truly wasn't done with you. It was almost a threat. You felt like a prey animal, waiting for him to finally sink his teeth in and tear out your jugular; it had you on edge.

You exhaled. The hallways were quiet, with flickering lights overhead and a dingy smell that hung in the air. Everyone had gone off to get some sleep.

You hadn't heard the man behind you, stalking you, ready to pounce at any second. Watching your figure from behind already had his fatigues tightening against his thighs.

Just as you reached your door, a strong hand wrapped around your waist, quickly tugging you back into something firm, hard. Your eyes lifted upwards, relief flooding through you at the sight of the white mask.

"L.T.," You sighed. "You scared the fuck out of me."

"Get inside, Sergeant."

In seconds, you entered the small room, large enough only for a bed, chair and table.

"Been waitin' for you, sweetheart."

You exhaled. It was a venomous statement- injected into your veins, running hot and thick with want, right through you until it finally clenched your heart and squeezed. He could see your eyes flutter shut, feel the warmth emanating off your body- he knew he'd made it into your head.

He was looming behind you, a veil of tension between you as you stood still, waiting for the right words, the right action. His hand trailed around the front of your fatigues, toying with the button of your jacket.

"Take it off for me," He said, low and breathy in your ear. "A proper show this time."

Your eyes snapped open.

He moved around you, taking a seat in front of you. He was hunched over, his elbows digging into his thighs, eyes meeting yours with a sober disposition.

This time around, you were nervous. He'd made it a point to get comfortable, to have all his attention on you. You were silently debating within yourself; it wasn't a good idea. It wasn't right. But as your gaze lifted to meet his eyes, any and all inhibitions were shattered. You wanted to please him; there was no denying it. You were willing to push past the shake in your hands if he wanted.

You did as he asked, demanded, peeling the jacket off your arms, followed by your tactical pants, thrown on the table beside you. He inhaled deeply, his eyes wandering your frame, truly absorbing the curves of your body, how fucking beautiful you looked. He'd never admit it, never tell you- but you were as close to Heaven as he'd ever get. Maybe one day, he thought.

You felt bile bubble in your throat. You were pathetic. Undressing for your superior just because he'd asked. It was humiliating, but his short nods of approval overrode your conscience, the sensible part of you that knew it was wrong.

Your bra and panties were plain, but he could've cared less with the way they hugged your body. Truthfully, he didn't even notice. He was too distracted with your hips, your navel, your breasts spilling over your bra ever-so slightly.

He could tell you were breathing heavily, waiting with burning anticipation for his next order. You'd obey, you both knew it.

"Keep goin'," He said, leaning back to unbuckle his belt and trousers.

You inhaled; long and shaky, your hands moving to the clasp of your bra. The straps slid down your arms with ease, and it joined the pile of clothes you'd already removed.

He pulled his briefs down, taking his cock in hand, running slow strokes up and down his cock. It wasn't harsh; they were tortuous, delicate strokes, teasing the pleasure to come. His cock was already painfully hard, blood rushing through every vein with brute force, demanding to be satiated. His eyes scoured every inch of you, pleased with the new sight of your breasts.

You stepped out of your panties, the last layer, standing bare in front of him. His chest rose and fell with urgency, watching you shift from one foot to the other, your hands clasping together.

"Come 'ere," He said.

You pushed your feet forward, making your way to him.

"On your knees."

You gulped, knees hitting the cool floor of the room, quiet and filled with expectations. You knew exactly what he wanted, what you wanted. You shifted upward, your hands gliding over his thighs, staring at him.

"Can I?" You asked, your heart racing in your chest, jugular pounding in your throat.

"Could never say no," He answered, leaning further back, removing his hand as you smiled softly.

Your tongue extended, a light lick over the head of his cock, listening to the strangled exhale that left his mouth. It filled you with pride, unraveling your Lieutenant with such a simple action.

His head fell back as your soft lips wrapped around him, saliva already gathering in your mouth just at the thought of him. You took him deeper in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, tightening your lips around his cock.

Up and down, you moved along the length of his cock, lubricated with your saliva, quiet slurping sounds making his hips jerk up.

His hand reached the back of your head, gentle strokes, before he gathered it from your face. Your eyes lifted to his, appreciatively, then, you felt his other hand join. He used both hands to guide your mouth down his cock, setting a painful pace as he drove his cock into your throat.

You gagged, body lurching forward as your throat tried to push him out. He buckled down, his knuckles white, gripping your hair. Your lungs screamed for air, aching pains in your chest, you sucked in a deep breath through your nostrils. You had no relief, not as he blocked your airways with his thrusts. Only the animalistic growls and grunts coming from him made it worth the burning suffocation.

He finally let up, releasing you from his iron grip, settling back to watch his cock disappear in your mouth, past the swollen wetness of your lips. You exhaled, your eyes watering, stinging, your nose running as you took him even deeper.

"Fuck me," He groaned.

You sat back, sniffling softly, wiping your eyes. He helped you to your feet.

His arms grabbed the neck of his shirt, lifting it over his head, careful not to remove the balaclava. Your eyes drifted to the impressive tone of his abdomen and chest. The dim light didn't do him justice, but you could see the scars that marked his skin, the hills and ridges of pure muscle across his body.

Pleasuring him had already created a longing in your stomach, but seeing his naked torso for the first time was exhilarating. He took his time laying down, his hands on your waist as he moved your body over his. He squished your flesh between his fingers.

"Do me a favour, sweetheart," He said, his hands moving to your breasts as he massaged lightly.

You hummed in response, your head turning as you waited for him to respond.

"Ride my face."

Your eyes widened, swallowing the lump in your throat at the daunting thought of your full weight on his face.

"I-What if you can't breathe?" You asked, furrowing your brows.

"I ain't scared of anything- remember?"

You shook your head, disbelief in your expression, but silently agreeing to the request you'd never received before- not with longterm boyfriends and certainly not with one-night stands.

As you looked at him, you realized he was still wearing his mask.

"The mask," You said. "It's in the way."

"I ain't takin' it off 'til you've soaked it," He said. "Stop stallin' and get up here."

Your pussy was aching, already desperate to feel him inside you, but he managed to make you absolutely miserable with desire.

You sighed, awkwardly shifting up his body, his hands helping to lift you over his face, settling you on the outline of his lips beneath his mask. He let out a short groan.

You inched forward, shifting uncomfortably, when the fabric of the mask over the bump of his nose hit your clit.

"Oh," You breathed, pleasantly surprised with just how good it felt.

He hummed beneath you, practically gloating, and his hands gripped your ass, pushing you forward. He held you down against his mouth, forcing your entire weight over his face, and you let out a sharp exhale.

You didn't waste another second, jerking your hips over his mouth. Your hands settled on the headboard, wrought iron that squeaked with every thrust of your hips, and his eyes watched you from below. He couldn't get enough of the sight, your breasts recoiling with every roll of your hips, your bottom lip tucked under your top incisors, your eyes squeezed shut to focus solely on your pleasure.

You could feel the harsh indents of his fingers on your ass, daring you to stop, to hesitate, and he'd unleash hell.

The texture of his mask on your clit was a bitter-sweet feeling; harsh, but just enough to leave you chasing your high. The curves of his features fit between your thighs just right, like he was made to stay there, live there- and he wanted to.

He could taste you through the mask, smell the pheromones washing over him, making his cock even harder. He shut his eyes for a moment, when he thought you weren't watching, savouring the feeling of you, your presence, lucky enough to have you grinding yourself against his face.

It didn't take long; left to your own devices you could get yourself off in minutes. The overwhelming knowledge that you were riding your Lieutenant's face only made it easier. Maybe there was something wrong with you, twisted or disconnected in the dark parts of your brain, that made you so willing to risk it- to risk your career. But if you really were fucked up, he was right there with you.

You breathed heavily, your abdomen tense as you felt the undeniable force of your orgasm. It ripped through you, shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. You arched your back, your hands gripping the fabric of his mask, your lips parted as you moaned.

You nearly collapsed, your body weak now that you'd drenched his mask.

He helped you off his face, lifting the mask over his nose.

"Bloody hell," He breathed.

"That was interesting," You nodded, slow, lazy blinks, in a post-climax stupor.

"Could taste you through my fuckin' mask," He was ravaged with desire, disbelief, unbridled lust.

There was a wild look in his eyes, pupils blown, stillness as he caught his breath, not sure how to proceed without breaking you in half.

You, on the other hand, were a bit embarrassed- he'd said before that he liked your taste, but you couldn't help feeling overly aware.

"Be smellin' you for days," He whispered, shifting to climb over you.

"Sorry," You breathed, looking up at him with a fragile expression.

He nearly chuckled, a slight upturn of his lips. "Can't get enough of it, sweetheart."

The small bout of reassurance was comforting, but not nearly enough. However, you didn't care much once he lined his cock up with your entrance. He rubbed it teasingly along your still-sensitive clit, soft breaths across your face as he restrained himself, remembering you weren't nearly as resilient as himself.

His lips met yours, an unexpected surprise, and your hands jumped to wrap around his neck. He used his free hand to wrap your thighs around his waist, encouraging you to squeeze, to hold him there, between your legs.

His tongue slid in your mouth, and you welcomed it with yours, gliding softly, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips. It was obvious, the crazed desire coursing through him, the driving force behind the hungry kiss, the rough use of his lips and tongue on yours.

You didn't mind; especially not when he slid inside you- filling you. You gasped into his mouth, your fingernails digging into the flesh of his neck, pulling him closer. He stayed still for a moment, relishing in just how fucking soaked you were, how soft the walls of your pussy were. A low groan left his throat, his head falling against your shoulder as he rounded his hips. It was a lazy thrust, and like a gut reaction, your chin tilted back.

The closeness, the intimacy, it was just enough to satisfy the insatiable woman he'd made you into. His head lifted to watch you from his view beside you. He could see the space between your lips, feel your pussy clench every time he dove back in, deep. Your breasts pushing against his bare chest- it drove him insane.

It also terrified him; he couldn't get enough. He was addicted, fallen into a rabbit hole he'd never find his way out of. A part of him didn't mind, not with your delicate hands clawing at his back, leaving long, red scratches over his muscles, or when your thighs clenched his sides. The other part was horrified; he'd been reduced to a pile of feelings, and knew he constantly be chasing the feeling you gave him since first time he met you.

He'd resigned himself to silence since then, not allowing your conversations to get past simple greetings or commands. You'd cornered him, in the car. He had nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide away the part of him that craved you like a fucking drug. You'd hit his soft spot, unintentionally, but you had. Taken him down in one fell swoop, crushed any plans he had to stay away from you. To stay away from the sound of your voice, your laugh, your freshly-showered smell, even your ass in the stupidly-tight combat pants you wore.

Now, he'd seen every part of you. Maybe it would be over, the constant longing, staring, restraint. He couldn't count how many times he dreamed of being buried in your pussy, listening to you call out his name over and over again. He knew exactly how you'd feel, though he didn't expect you to be so damn soft. So soft he could barely keep his hands off you, even while plunging his cock inside you, his palm was on your thigh.

To say he was addicted wouldn't be an exaggeration. He truly couldn't wait until his next fix- he couldn't even hold himself back until you'd gotten in your room. He'd have a hell of a time hiding it from his C.O.

You gasped when his cock grazed your cervix, shifting your hips upward to allow him even deeper. His cock hit your clit, a sensation that caused you to jump against his body.

"God-" You choked out, burying your face in his neck. "God, Ghost."

He grunted in your ear, panting softly with every harsh thrust, his arms encasing you in a possessive hold.

"Simon," He said. "Want you to say my real name," He breathed.

It was just another layer he'd peeled back for you. Maybe another mistake, something else for him to regret. But as you whispered it in his ear, whimpering quietly about how good he felt inside you, he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not when it sounded like that.

"Just like that, please, Simon," You whispered again, thighs shaking with exhaustion, pleasure.

"That right, sweetheart? God," Another deep breath, "You drive me fuckin' mad."

His hips met yours roughly, and he pulled back to watch you, to really examine your face as he stroked his cock inside you.

"Shit baby," Your eyes closed. "More, please, I can take it- just- fuck me harder."

That was all he needed to hear, his stamina increasing tenfold with the way you pleaded for more.

He did as you asked, now driving into you relentlessly, so hard your arm reached up to grab the headboard, stabilizing yourself. You choked out a sob.

"Fuck this cunt is tight," He grumbled, shifting an arm underneath you to hold you closer. "Tell me it's mine- you're mine."

You recognized the beginning of your orgasm, his words driving you over the edge into a blissful asphyxia. There was a steep incline as he kept his pace, even as your pussy squeezed him so tight he thought he'd burst.

"It's yours," You repeated, open-mouth gasps for air through your rigid body. "I'm all yours."

He didn't need anything else, not a guarantee, not a promise. Just the words, the knowledge that you knew. You knew you'd never find anything close to him.

"That's it," He nodded, so close to his orgasm he could feel his testes tighten. "That's my girl," He grunted.

"Cum in me, Simon," You looked up at him, glowing with a layer of sweat and endorphins. "Please."

He couldn't hold out, couldn't deny your request, and released inside you. His thrusts shortened and slowed after that, dragging out his orgasm as his cock drove his cum ever further inside you. He'd think about it days later, remnants of him still inside you.

He pulled out slowly, a harsh exhale over your chest, then an unexpectedly soft kiss on your lips.

He was in shit- mile high shit. But as he pulled back, watching your eyes open, the innocent, satisfied smile on your face, he knew he'd risk it. He'd kill for you, if you just asked.

Once your pulse had settled, and you'd regained consciousness, you stretched. He stood up from your bed, dragging his pants back up, finding his T-shirt on the floor.

"Are you going back to your room?" You asked. You tried to keep your expectations down, tried not to appear too eager.

"Y'want me to stay?" He replied, seeming almost confused.

"You're warm," You lied. Of course it was a lie. The real reason was too humiliating to say out loud.

He shook his head. "Should get back to mine," He said, watching your face fall. Even as much as you tried to hide it, he could see it. He could see right through you.

He liked toying with you, watching the disappointment before he kissed it all better. Only he could do that to you, and you both knew it well.

But, he couldn't resist, never could. The idea of wrapping an arm around you as you slept, feeling your body against his; he craved it. He'd never planned to sleep next to you, but Christ did he ever want to. "Lieutenant's bed is bigger. Come on."

You pursed your lips, once again trying to hide a small smile, but he saw. He always saw. And it made his heart swell.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Idk if little au concepts would count for drabbles, but i have one :)

Prince and knight au, with either prince Lucio and his favourite guard mc, or royal mc and their favourite silly golden guard. Either one would be equally funny. Saving eachother from things like dragons to the spider that was a little too big to be normal right? Either way you can have free reign with details :3

Yamper anon :3

The Arcana Drabbles: Prince!Lucio and Bodyguard!MC

Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your bodyguard next to you in bed -

That's how the saying goes, right? Right?? He's right, isn't he, MC?!

Bodyguards are for making him feel safe. Being little spoon makes him feel safe. It logically follows that bodyguards are for being big spoon, right?!

You're not exactly sure how it came to this, to be honest. First, your prince wanted you to keep watch when he bathed. That seemed fair enough.

After several weeks of complimenting the poses he struck in his lavishly embroidered robe, your prince insisted on you removing your armor and keeping only your weapon when you watched him. The bathroom gets steamy, he said. The metal will rust, he said. You're leaving so much to the imagination, he said. You smiled and obliged, neglecting to tell him that you do maintenance on your equipment every night and that the metal was never at risk.

Then it was sharing his moisturizer with you. You're already in here, he's got more than enough, and you have such a nice face. Here, let him massage it into your skin. That's what princes do, right? They care for their people, right? Right??

Over time, his requests went from demands on your behavior to vulnerable questions about his own.

Does he look okay? Are you sure? Is his crown on straight? As he gets ready to walk into yet another ballroom.

Is the spider gone? Are you sure? Did it bite you? Are you sure? After calling your name so urgently the night watch came sprinting into your room in the servant's quarters while you slept. You couldn't see any trace of a spider, but you could see the fine tremble of a leftover nightmare.

Do you really have to go? Do you think he's a weak prince, if he doesn't want to be alone? When he's offering you the suite next to his, after seeing your room for himself during a surprise morning visit.

Does the queen hate him? Mumbled quietly into the space between you as you exit the throne room. You don't know if you should tell him about the rare smile Morga bestowed on you, and her roundabout way of telling you she likes who her son is becoming with you in his life.

Eventually, the questions turn into offers.

You can stay, if you want to. Your room is all the way across the hall and his bed is fit for a prince (hah).

You could take him out in disguise, if you want to. He thinks your friends and family outside the Palace sound interesting.

You could practice waltzing with him, if you want to.

You could appear at the ball with him, if you want to.

You could sneak away into the gardens with him, if you want to.

You could kiss him ... if you want to.

Up on her throne with a clear view through the window of the crown prince and his bodyguard, Morga watches her son go straight for the tongue as he inexpertly shoves the two of you into the rose bushes. She hides her smile behind an embarrassed wince and averts her eyes as Lucio indulges his shameless nature as far as you'll let him go.

Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your loved one cherished safely in your heart - that's how the saying goes, right?

[cultofdixon]

Life or Death, Dixon

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Youngest Dixon Sister!Reader • It’s always these messy arguments that lead them into messy situations…let’s just hope neither of them have to die for it • ANGST/SFW • TW: Arguments / Gun Violence / Suicidal Tendencies Mentioned / Injuries / Violence / Scar

Requested by: Anon

“Are you seriously still mad at me? It wasn’t just me!”

“Yeah a grieving mother and a fucking ex-tyrant. The perfect team with little miss flight risk”

“I’m your fucking sister and you talk to me like that?!”

“Merle called you way worse!” Daryl snaps as he couldn’t believe he agreed to go on a run with his sister when he hasn’t completely wrapped his head around everything that had happened. The end of the Whispers war and the Reapers.

“At least I didn’t sleep with a fucking pyromaniac’s bitch”

“Hey!” He shoved Y/N to have her get the idea she went too far. But she wasn’t done.

“Seriously. You’re going to be mad about risking my life to save our fucking family when you rolled over on your back for a woman you fucked once in a cabin in the middle of nowhere just to get “inside it all” only for her and her own bitch to escape Maggie’s revenge. They’ve killed a good chunk of her people, Daryl!”

Daryl quickly whipped toward his sister dropping his crossbow and grabbing her by the jacket.

“At least Henry never my goddamn fucking sight long enough for him to get killed” He did it. He needed the last word and the last nerve wasn’t just struck but burned causing Y/N to instantly force him off storming off.

Then what happened next was a blur. Which led them here…

Bounded to wooden chairs and Daryl was the first to wake feeling his mouth was duct taped shut. If only he had duct tape during this risky trips with his bike, it is an easy fix type tool. But that didn’t matter in the moment as he tried to get a better look of his surroundings.

The place wasn’t familiar and once he understood that he quickly glance to his sister noticing the blood pooling from her temple. He didn’t know how long she’s been like such and the panic started to pool inside of him as he tried to make any form of noise to get his sister to react.

But it got someone with a familiar, enraged tone to emerge from the shadows showing the injured Reaper Brandon that had it out for the archer when his idiotic fallen group took him in.

“You weren’t easy to settle down. She definitely was” He laughs lightly as he with all his force kicked the chair she was bounded to watching her quickly sit up.

Y/N had a cut dangerously close to her left eye and it was swollen shut with that side of her face bruised as well. She had to be “put down” in order to be tied up. One can only imagine what they did to Daryl. She didn’t say anything when she rose her head given the pain and she thought if she tried to protest that the gun in the man’s hand would be used on them.

“You pinned my brothers and sister against each other back at our home. Killed big man and that bitch that got away really should’ve been in what…this your sister right?” Brandon grabbed her shoulders from behind her seat watching Daryl tense. “In her place. But you know…pinning siblings on one another make for better entertainment”

Daryl couldn’t say anything but with the way his expression almost always matched his emotions. At least in a way only another Dixon can read. Y/N turned her head toward the man she didn’t know when he rounded back toward her brother.

“What do you want with us? Your family’s gone”

“Yeah…so I need one of you to be” Brandon drops the gun he held onto the table in front of them watching them flinch at first. “There’s one bullet. I think you understand the rules if you’ve lived long enough”

Russian Roulette.

“You know he’ll just aim it at himself” Y/N scoffs spitting a bit of blood onto the table causing the worry and anxiety to build even higher inside her older brother. “Too selfless…”

“Yeah, but I heard y’all’s little squabble in the woods…he may still do what you say. But what are you going to do?” He smirks pushing the gun toward Y/N and taking out his knife threatening to kill Daryl if she didn’t pick it up. But once she did he didn’t retract knowing she would aim at him if he wasn’t going to keep a short leash on the situation.

“Judith gave yea Rick’s gun?”

“Until she’s ready”

“You know how to shoot a colt?”

“I think I can handle a revolver” Y/N laughs holstering it. “We are the only ones besides Negan that have used anything other than a gun. Thought she’d trust you with it more than me”

“You know Rick liked yea. It would’ve been you or Michonne holding that. Both of y’all’s mains not being a gun”

“Michonne is badass with a katana. I’m just a wannabe track and field star with an old javelin”

“So what I’m hearing is you want me to teach you how to use it”

I wish you didn’t Y/N frowns holding the gun in her hand watching Brandon grab her brother by the hair forcing his head back and bringing his knife to his jugular if she didn’t take aim.

The second she aimed it at Daryl, Brandon backed off knowing she was pissed about their argument and finally putting a permanent end to such.

“Life or death, Dixon”

“I choose life, Merle” Y/N rolls her eyes at her eldest brother as they were on the roof he was currently chained on. She decided not to leave him as she watched the vehicles that got the others out flee the city to their camp.

“You chose death here, pumpkin. By staying with me while the walkers flood the building and gain a sense that there’s fresh meat on the roof. You’ve always risked your life”

“For my family.”

“So what are you going to do”

Choose my family. Y/N gripped the handle on the gun, clicking it to load or not load the bullet and right as her finger rested on the trigger.

The two froze watching her quickly aim it to her temple and Daryl fought against the restraints while Brandon stood a bit in shock that she would do such even from what her brother said that he didn’t entirely understand.

Then the gun fired

A thud met the floor

And silence grew in the room causing Daryl to hyperventilate filling the emptiness as he had shut his eyes when he heard the gun fire not wanting to open them.

“You seriously think you’re going to end up alone?” Carol accused Daryl after he had told her about this Leah woman. “As much as not everybody finds a romantic soulmate. There are platonic ones out there”

“I’ve been accused by Y/N that Rick was mine. So I really am gonna end up alone”

“Seriously? Did you forget about the other name in that sentence? Let alone forget that I’m right fucking here?” Carol laughed at such receiving a confused look from her friend. “You still have a family, Daryl. And as much as the world pushed both Dixons into the earth to show them a piece of its mind…Y/N ain’t going anywhere. It will take a real nuclear ending for her to say goodbye to her life. She’s never leaving you, Daryl Dixon”

She’s your blood Daryl felt tears spring in his eyes as his body flinched to the couch of a comforting hand that when he opened his eyes he was met with Rosita’s worry filled expression.

“Aaron told us about his crazy experience being…sort of kidnapped. When you and Y/N didn’t come back when you did…we had to make sure you were alright” She states carefully taking the duct tape off as Daryl quickly whipped his attention to his sister getting cut out of her restraints by Aaron while she also set the gun she held on the table.

The gun was freshly fired. But her end wasn’t met.

Rosita had taken out Brandon and that was the gun fire that out sounded the fire that Y/N triggered. But again, her luck in russian roulette was there this time around.

“You need help standing?” Aaron asked as Y/N shook her head giving out a soft ‘thank you though’ when he went to check their surroundings outside.

The moment Y/N rose to her feet, Daryl brought himself over taking her into his arms caging her a bit. She kept herself cemented at first trying to keep up her front when Daryl has already cracked after what happened. It wasn’t until Rosita gave her a look that led her to give the Dixon siblings a moment of privacy as Y/N sobbed softly the second she left and latched onto her brother.

“You could’ve died…” Daryl stated as the group started their journey back to Alexandria. Y/N just shrugged at him. “Seriously?”

“What? If it was Merle, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot his bitchass.”

“‘M just glad yea didn’t eat a bullet” Daryl wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she opened the barrel and started laughing like an idiot.

“Bro I would’ve met fucking Merle in hell” Y/N showed him the next shot was the bullet as Daryl instantly swiped the weapon from her. “Hey! Imma need that”

“Nah stick to your sharpened stick shit. Shouldn’t have trusted yea with drugs when you were six. Ain’t trusting yea with a gun now”

“I didn’t take the drugs!”

“Whatever”

[talia-black]

Nameless! Aventurine Headcanons

I have a million other projects I need to be working on, but this tiny brainworm hasn’t let me go.  :(

TW: Talk of Aventurine’s backstory. Nothing explicit, but his brand is shown and stuff is alluded to. Symptoms of trauma are also explicitly mentioned. Also shirtless Aventurine but nothing sexual. 

Nameless! Aventurine who succeeded in bargaining his freedom from the IPC and became a wanderer. Who always wears a shirt with a high collar to hide his slave tag. Who melted down his sixty tanba and had them made into various accessories for his otherwise nondescript outfit. Who pulled scams and took risks whenever the mood struck him and then skipping out whenever things got dicey for him. Until he runs into the Astral Express.

Nameless! Aventurine who had heard of the Express in passing, and needing a quick passage off-world, offers his help with whatever trouble they’ve managed to get themselves into in return for a ride. Only to be thrown completely out of his element by the attitude of each of its members. None of them are interested in what he can offer them (though it takes him a while to figure that out) and are more than willing to still let him join the Express even when his plan doesn’t pan out the way Aventurine promised. 

Nameless! Aventurine who actually ends up fitting very well into the Astral Express’ dynamic. He is always happy to indulge in March 7th’s antics (You cannot tell me these two wouldn’t have spa days where they do facials, paint each other's nails, and just talk for hours about Robin’s latest album or whatever else is a hot topic for Honkai Star Rail’s version of the internet.) and treats her like a little sister. 

March 7th is also the first to figure out Nameless! Aventurine’s aversion to being touched. He frequently initiates contact, but the first time March came up behind him and touched his arm, the gambler jumped almost a foot in the air. He laughed it off, telling her that she “give a man some warning next time” and pushed the conversation forward. She chalked it up to him being caught off-guard, but then she watched him freeze up when Himeko put a hand on his back, and when Welt patted his shoulder, and whenever March touched him first. 

Nameless! Aventurine who acts like the annoying middle child always pestering the older brother because he secretly admires him. Dan Heng doesn’t warm up to Aventurine nearly as quickly, and is often annoyed when he just waltzes into the room containing the data bank, plops himself in a chair, and talks at him for hours. The first time Dan Heng responded to something he said was actually what got Aventurine to be quiet. Dan Heng turned away from what he was working on to see Aventurine with his mouth slightly agape, not expecting him to actually answer. Dan Heng found it incredibly interesting how the normally smooth talker stumbled over his words for almost a minute before picking up where he had left off. 

Dang Heng is the first to notice how Nameless! Aventurine is always throwing himself in the firing range. Even when there’s absolutely no reason to or nothing to gain from making such a sacrifice. He subtly watched how in every conversation that even verges into dangerous territory, Aventurine pulls all of the attention onto himself with either a comment aimed to provoke, or acting in a way that drastically escalates things. Aventurine had told the Crew about his “luck”, and these instances had certainly liquidated any of Dan Heng’s doubts about that. But if his victory was always certain, why did he smile when he got shot? 

Nameless! Aventurine who Himeko treats like the rest of her kids right out of the gate. Aventurine is the most suspicious of Himeko out of all the Express Crew, but that doesn’t last long. They bond over their love of black coffee and as the two of the only three night owls on the Express (Dan Heng is also one, but he never leaves his room). While he would never say Himeko reminded him of his mother, she gave her own forms of paternal love freely in the way she always made sure he ate at least two meals a day, immediately patched up his various scrapes and scratches herself when he first got on the Express, and offered him his own room without hesitation. He would go to his grave with the knowledge that he had felt his face heat up when she had ruffled his hair after he beat her at chess during one of their 2am coffee drinking sessions. 

Himeko was the first to see Nameless! Aventurine’s hands were in terrible condition. When she checked him over for wounds, she noticed how he was always fidgeting with a coin. Later it would change to a beaten up poker chip, or his bracelet, or whatever odd thing he had picked up. And when she was bandaging his arm, his hands shook with constant tremors. When he was outside the Express, he always stuffed his hands in his pockets, and Himeko frowned late one evening when she saw Aventurine palm’s had scars from where his own nails had dug into them. 

Nameless! Aventurine who loves messing with Welt. Honestly, Aventurine gets along with Welt just as well, if not better than March. Welt is never without something interesting or insightful to say, and combined with Aventurine’s observant and commentative nature, they sometimes end up talking for hours without even realizing time has passed. However, Aventurine cannot live without a little mischief. And Welt’s naivety when it comes to current trends is just too good of an opportunity to pass up. This often manifests in Welt using slang terms in ways they absolutely were not meant to be, and a few interesting videos that have made their way onto the Express’ group chat. Welt has mostly caught on, but he still plays along if only to see the way Aventurine’s eyes light up whenever he successfully “tricks” him. The “kiddo” had gotten more laughs out of the old man than all of the members of the Express combined. 

Welt was the first to notice and tell the others that Nameless! Aventurine was exhibiting signs of severe trauma. During a pit stop, Welt asked Aventurine to go ask around for a certain brand of coffee beans for Himeko before calling the others for a meeting. After sharing what they knew, the group struggled to decide on a course of action. Aventurine was more than entitled to his past, and it would go against everything they stood for to pry for potentially painful details. But it also seemed wrong to let him continue potentially harmful habits without intervention. In the end, they decided to wait until they crossed paths with a specialist who they could ask for advice before taking any particular course of action. 

Nameless! Aventurine who kept making excuses for why he couldn’t get off the Express. He didn’t realize that no one had ever asked him to.

Nameless! Aventurine who upon waking one day to see his name emblazoned on the door of his room refused to come out for an entire day. The rest of the Crew didn’t even know it had happened, and Pom-Pom swore they hadn’t done it. Meanwhile, Aventurine spent most of the morning crying silently into his pillow and the rest of the day deep in the trenches of an existential crisis. He comes out the next day and acts like nothing ever happened, and the new status quo was set in stone. 

Nameless! Aventurine who was with March and Dan Heng when they found the Trailblazer. And immediately became fascinated with them. Especially after they threw themselves in front of March when the Doomsday Beast attacked the space station. He surprised himself with how upset he felt when he saw the Trailblazer was considering staying at Herta’s Space Station as opposed to coming with them. And how happy he was when they ultimately decided to join the Express. 

Nameless! Aventurine and the Trailblazer who get on like a house on fire. Aventurine is persistent and victorious in getting the Trailblazer comfortable with them, and often ends up in a game of tug-a-war with March for their attention. Trailblazer, who at first glance seems like a pretty stoic character, turns out to be quite unhinged, and Aventurine’s lack of self-restraint only enables them once they set foot on Belobog. Aventurine was a man who clung to unpredictability and the mystery of the dice like a starving animal, and the Trailblazer was impulsivity personified. From their out-of-pocket comments at the most inappropriate of moments to their dumpster-diving habits, Aventurine never knew what to expect from them. 

Trailblazer who is the first to discover the truth of Nameless! Aventurine’s past. It wasn’t anything grand; the two had gone out with March and Himeko for a drink and ended up collapsing in the same bed. Trailblazer woke first with an awful headache, a dry mouth, and dots doing pirouettes across their vision. Which is why they thought they were just imagining the brand on Aventurine’s neck. The high-collar shirt that he always wore had been chucked off at some point during the night. Aventurine stirred when a gentle touch carefully traced irritated, scarred skin. 

“You should really be applying some kind of salve to that.”

Reality cut through Aventurine’s hangover faster than a bucket of ice. He leapt out of bed and locked himself in the bathroom. He refused all of the Trailblazer’s attempts to get him to respond, and it was only after they promised they would give him some space and that they wouldn’t tell the others that his heart rate was able to go down. It still took him an hour before he left the bathroom. From there he avoided the Trailblazer like the plague. When the other members of the Crew asked what had happened, the Trailblazer explained it away as “drunken shenanigans” and let the subtext run its course. If only to give Aventurine some initiative to speak to them. This standoff lasted weeks, and probably would have gone on much longer if Aventurine hadn’t taken a dagger to the gut and a crossbow bolt to the knee. And the Trailblazer, out of the generosity of their heart, offered to personally make sure he made a full recovery. And many painful nights later, with the help of a few glasses of whiskey, Aventurine shared a few pieces of his past. He still had enough clarity of mind to keep the less palatable details out of it, but gave more than enough for the Trailblazer to understand what he had been through. Somehow, the bottle was emptied, and the two once again found themselves cuddled up in Aventurine’s bed and drifting off into peaceful slumber. 

Nameless! Aventurine who found a new family, and would continue to protect them with everything he had as he continued his journey starward. 

[ghostandsoap]

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John "Soap" MacTavish x Fem! "Viper" Reader Tags: Assassination mission. Gunfire. Snipers. A/N: I feel like this sucks. Does it suck? Let me know if it sucks. Word Count: 6.0k "You can't leave."

John MacTavish was a deadly, silent marksman.

He struck fear into the heart of any enemy that dared to cross him...if they could even figure out that he was there to begin with. As Force 141's go-to sharpshooter and sniper, he had more than enough experience and advice to go around.

It wasn't lost on Sergeant MacTavish that he was one of the best -- but even then, his ego was never swollen. In fact, he felt like he was doing a disservice if he wasn't passing his wisdom along to someone just as talented and capable as him.

So when word on the street was that Captain Price had recruited a newly trained sniper to Force 141, Soap started preparing.

He wasn't surprised in the least when Captain Price approached him with a manila folder with a "classified" stamp on it. Soap wasn't shocked in the slightest when Price asked him to take the newbie under his wing.

He was more than happy to accept. He wasn't totally thrilled about the fact that most of his free time would be taken up by this, but it was a small price to pay to have the satisfaction of spreading his knowledge to someone deserving of his time and energy.

Price gave Soap a brief rundown, which didn't amount to much at all. Any information that Soap was going to have to know about this person was going to have to come from their files or from the person themselves. However, Price did give Soap a tiny sliver of information to get him intrigued.

"She's highly respected despite the fact she's young," Price had said with a chuckle. "They call her Viper."

Viper. The name rattled down his spine and left a tingle in his feet. He could only imagine where that name came from, and he was interested to know more.

And it seemed the more that Soap read up on her, the more that curiosity grew. As he read through her file, it became exceedingly clear to him as to why she was so well known and respected by her peers and mentors.

Viper showed a talent for sharpshooting in her early days of training. With proper mentoring and guidance, she ended up attending and finishing sniper school as one of the best.

When word spread that Captain John Price was looking for another sharpshooter for his infamous Task Force 141, Viper's information file was delivered to his desk almost immediately.

Price was betting on her just after seeing her file himself and after chatting with a few colleagues that had worked directly with her. His hopes for her only tripled when he actually met her in person to get a feel for how she would do with the rest of his team.

He knew that she would fly no matter what, but under Soap's supervision and guidance? She would soar.

Price introduced Soap and Viper to one another as soon as everything was settled...and truth be told, Soap almost scared her off on the first day.

Soap might have...overestimated how strong of a personality she was going to have prior to meeting her. With a name like "Viper", there was no question in his mind that she wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. And to an extent, he was correct. However, it seemed that his calculations had deemed her as nothing but a storm of venom and hatred, which was also not quite right.

Well of course Soap couldn't risk appearing smaller and weaker than the person who was supposed to be his student, so he amped up the side of him that was more "bad guy-ish."

He maintained the coldest stare that he could manage, and he didn't crack even a hint of a smile or any expression that showed him as anything but mean. He should've known that he was making a fool of himself when her eyes went wide and (quite frankly) concerned the moment he spoke to her in a tone that was less than pleasant.

Nonetheless, he kept this charade up for the duration of their first encounter, and by the end of their first day together, she was second guessing this entire arrangement. She debated running straight to Price and begging him to transfer her somewhere else and to someone who didn't act like they wanted to kill her in her sleep.

But thankfully Soap was intelligent enough to realize that his assumptions about her were horribly incorrect. When he saw just how rattled and exhausted she looked at the end of that day, he knew he needed to clear things up.

Once the misunderstanding was discussed and a "start over" was agreed upon, things went much smoother.

The two of them took off immediately. She soaked up every bit of advice he gave, and he practiced with her every free chance they had. For the most part, he helped her get familiarized with all kinds of different sniper rifles and practiced with her.

Any long ranged weapon that he had access to, he wanted her to be comfortable working with. He never wanted her to get into a situation where she needed to take someone out from a distance and was stuck with a weapon that she had no experience with.

As far as practice, they spent at least two hours at the shooting range every day. For the first few weeks, they stayed at the range. The range was a controlled environment with no outside factors...which also meant no distractions.

Eventually, Soap started taking her to locations outside of the range so that she could practice shooting from different elevations and altitudes. He wanted her to always be able to take wind speed and direction into account. He needed to know that she could still accurately locate a target at nighttime and in bad weather.

Long story short, Soap's end goal for her was easy. He wanted her to be able to take down an enemy in any environment, at any time, and with any long ranged weapon.

He had total faith in her, because it didn't take long for him to see for himself that, yes, she was very talented.

She was a fast learner, and when she was struggling with something, she persisted until she perfected it. She was determined and motivated in a way that he had never seen. He was impressed by her. He liked her.

The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into days. Each new day, he was getting to know her as a soldier...and eventually, he was getting to know her as a person.

They were sharing things with one another that absolutely no one else on the planet knew or would ever know. He felt like she knew him better than anyone, and he had only known her a few months.

Their practice outings began ending with them sticking around in whatever place they were in, just chatting with one another and taking a load off from a long day.

One day in particular, about four months into this, he managed to get information out of her that he had wanted to know since the moment her callsign graced his ears.

The two of them were sitting together on top of a hill out in the middle of nowhere, dusk just beginning to creep over the sky as they sat together.

"So I've gotta ask ya," He had asked, slicing the blade of his knife into the red skin of the apple he had brought with him. "Where'd you get a name like Viper?"

Viper had laughed at his question, honestly surprised that he hadn't asked sooner.

"A few reasons actually. I'm fast, but also quiet...I can be pretty aggressive," She told him. "But mainly it comes from the fact that I can track and locate a target so easily and efficiently...especially through a scope."

"Oh, that's a good one." Soap said.

That was all he said after that. She waited patiently for a few seconds, expecting him to reciprocate the obvious.

"What about you?" She asked.

"What 'bout me?" He returned.

"Your callsign. Where does 'Soap' come from?" She clarified.

A shit-eating grin spread on the Scot's face as he popped a slice of apple into his mouth.

"That's classified Information." He remarked through chewing.

"What?!" She shrilled, unable to mask her smile. "I told you mine, so you have to tell me yours!"

"Not how it works."

"That's messed up. That is so not fair, Sergeant." She laughed an airy laugh, the kind that made his heart flutter and speak for himself before his brain had a chance to object.

"John," He blurted, his cheeks growing pink. "You don't have t'call me anything formal when it's just us."

The apple in his stomach was turning now, because that was the first moment that he realized that he was pining for her in a way that was beyond what he could control.

"Okay. I can call you John," She said to him, smiling in a way that almost made him collapse down the hill that they were perched on top of. "Now will you tell me why they call you Soap?"

He grinned and offered her the rest of his apple.

"No way."

After that, Soap found any excuse he could to see her and spend time with her. It got to a point where if someone needed to find Soap, they didn't even bother asking where he was. If they knew where Viper was, then they knew where Soap was.

They were glued to one another. She was excelling and improving every day, which only made him better and stronger as a result. The more time he spent with her, the harder he fell for her.

His likeness towards her was turning into something so much more wonderful. He was appreciating the world around him in ways he never had before.

John MacTavish was in love.

__

"Keep your breathing steady..." Soap instructed, his voice almost at a whisper. "Hold your breath right before you fire."

Viper was in the zone. She was perched with Soap's chosen sniper rifle of the day, staring at her assigned "target" through the scope. They were back at the range today, which should've made her feel more comfortable. However, Viper felt a bit of pressure today that she usually didn't feel when practicing because today Captain Price was observing.

Nonetheless, she did everything as she normally would. She waited until she was ready, she held, and she pulled the trigger. There wasn't any loud sound of a gunshot considering the weapon she was using was a suppressed rifle, but there was no noise greater than Soap when he was excited.

"Perfect shot," He buzzed. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

Her target wasn't a real enemy, of course. It was just a dummy that they used for shooting practice. Still, Soap was beaming and she was proud.

"What do I always tell ya, Vi?" He asked, leaning his head closer waiting for his signature quote.

"Be unseen and unheard until it's too late." She said, accepting Soap's hand to guide her up from the ground.

He grinned at her, waving Captain Price over to join the conversation. Price was wearing a proud, satisfied smirk as he approached them.

Price had been watching them closely over the many, many months that Soap had been working with her. He was pleased with Soap's mentorship, and even more pleased that she was blossoming into likely the best sniper he would ever see in his lifetime.

Not to mention, it wasn't lost on Price that Soap had grown to care for her.

Soap was interested in her in a way that extended past a teacher-student arrangement. Soap didn't have to take so much time with her. Truthfully, Soap's dedication to her was far beyond what Price could've ever hoped for.

"Nice work, Viper. Everything still going alright?" He asked.

Every once in a while, Price would ask that question. And every time, he got the same answer.

"Yes sir. All is well." She smiled.

"Good. You're quite the crackshot," He said, shifting the conversation topic. "I need to steal Soap from you for a moment. You mind catching up later?"

Soap and Viper shared a brief look before she answered.

"Sure, Captain."

Viper respectfully left the captain and the sergeant to chat and talk shop, and Soap already knew what Price wanted to talk to him about.

"You move out for Russia next week," Price said, and Soap nodded. "We need to talk about Viper."

Soap had known about this trip to Russia for two weeks. There was a job that needed to be handled there, and Force 141 would be heading there shortly. The mission was critically important.

Of course Viper had been with them on missions before. She was a part of the task force after all, so she was one with the team. However, Viper hadn't been put to the test yet. And this mission, if Price decided yes, would most definitely test her.

It was an assassination mission.

It was a mission that was going to be reliant on one person to be successful. And Captain Price was trying to decide if that person was going to be Viper or Soap.

Soap knew that Price was considering letting Viper take the lead on this one. Soap hadn't told Viper about the mission yet. He didn't want her to have that pressure simmering for so long. He didn't want Viper getting into her own head.

Soap would've been the obvious choice for this job, but Price was beginning to feel as if Viper was ready for this.

Soap knew her better than Price did at this point, whatever Soap said would determine Price's decision.

"You've been working with her for over six months," Price said.

Seven months and 12 days, actually. Soap thought to himself.

"You're the best judge of her ability and readiness to do this mission," Price went on. "She needs to be able to handle the pressure."

Soap understood exactly what Price was saying. Essentially, the captain was asking if Viper was ready for this.

Soap had complete confidence in her. She was already incredibly sharp when she first joined 141, and now she was an even better version of herself. There wasn't a doubt in Soap's mind that Viper was as prepared as she could possibly be.

"What's the verdict, Sergeant?" Price asked, arms crossed over his chest. "Is she ready?"

Without hesitation or lack of confidence, Soap answered.

"Absolutely she is."

___

This part of Russia is what she could only describe as the absolute middle of nowhere.

The land was extreme, and the tundra seemed to stretch out into hundreds of miles in every single possible direction. The land was painted white with the occasional silhouette of a tree or some other natural landmark.

Yet for some reason, in the middle of this vast land of nothingness, there was a small cabin about a mile away, only visible to Viper through the crosshairs of her scope.

Viper didn't mind the snow and frost in the least, but what she didn't care for was the extreme cold temperatures that came with them. And since it was nighttime, the frigid air was much worse. The air was so crisp and clean that her lungs were stinging with every inhale of air she took.

The sky was ablaze with millions and millions of twinkling stars, and if she had the time or focus to actually look up and study them...she might've even been able to see other galaxies.

But Viper wasn't out in the wilderness of Russia to stargaze and make wishes on those stars. Viper was here on business.

So here she was, hunkered down in the snow and camouflaged with the earth beneath her. Her rifle was an extension of herself tonight, as familiar to herself as her own heartbeat.

Even though she wasn't fond of the cold, it wasn't bothering her tonight. The numbness in her fingers and toes was ignored for the time being.

Soap and Ghost were elsewhere, but relatively close by. Their tasks were different for this mission, mainly to retrieve the body and to eliminate any unwanted visitors.

"Viper, this is Ghost. How copy?" The lieutenant's voice sounded in her ear.

"I hear you, Lieutenant. How's the weather down there?" She asked, keeping her voice low.

"Cold n' bitter." Soap chimed in, and she could hear Ghost's chuckle.

"At least you aren't buried in the snow." Viper remarked

The three of them had been bantering back and forth like this for a while. Something that most people don't know about being a sniper is that you have to have some serious patience. They had been playing the waiting game, and they had to do something to pass the time and the silence.

"Johnny'll warm you up when this is over." Ghost teased.

Soap had smacked Ghost's arm for that one, not believing that his friend was trying to embarrass her.

Viper's cheeks ran warm at that comment, which would've been nice in this weather if it hadn't been under flustered circumstances. She didn't respond, and thankfully she didn't have to, because there was sudden movement through her scope.

With perfect timing, she heard Soap again.

"Do you have a visual on the target?" Soap's voice echoed in Viper's ear.

Viper didn't move a single inch.

"Affirmative." She replied.

A very simple pause followed, and then an even simpler command was given.

"Take him out."

She steadied her breathing. She placed her index finger on the trigger. She held her breath, and she fired.

Her vision tunneled for a moment after she pulled the trigger, something that sometimes happened after she made a shot. When she looked through the scope again, her target wasn't down like he should've been.

He was on the move, alarmed and fleeing the area. Where he was going to go in this kind of environment, she wasn't sure. However, with enemies like this, they always had an escape plan.

"Shit." Soap cursed.

She missed.

She couldn't have missed him by more than a couple of inches. Her bullet was just a hair too far above, which only alerted her target and completely missed him altogether.

Nobody had expected Viper to miss. Especially not Soap. He knew that she didn't have long to reload and correct her second shot before her target disappeared.

"Viper, track him and fire again," He instructed, trying not to sound too urgent and make her nervous. "You've only got a couple of seconds."

She was trying not to panic, despite the fact that she was all shaken up from the fact that she missed. She had practiced a shot like this for what felt like a million times. How could she miss now when it was the real thing?

Viper reloaded, marked her target, aimed the crosshairs, and fired again.

There was a squeeze of the trigger, a puff of smoke, and her target a mile away that crumpled to the ground in an instant.

Viper coughed out a relieved, but stunned noise. One that came from a place of knowing that her target almost got away.

"Target is down," Soap said, yet Viper still felt sick. "Beautiful shot, Vi."

Soap and Ghost moved in swiftly, getting the now dead target out before his comrades showed up. Viper pulled away from the scope, her eyes finding two little, distant figures running around that she knew to be them.

She rested her forehead against the back of her hand, her mind spinning and reeling at a million miles an hour.

She knew that Price would hear about this -- the fact that she missed the first time. He had put so much faith into her and bragged about her to everybody. How would he react to this?

Even worse than that, how was Soap going to react?

Soap had put his blood, sweat, and tears into shaping her. He spent more time and energy on her than anyone else ever had in the last seven months. He taught her everything he knew. Every tip, trick, and piece of advice he had -- she knew it by heart.

How could she repay him like this?

"Meet us down here at the cabin," Ghost's voice returned to her ear. "Need to be heading out."

She predicted that Ghost wouldn't say much to her for the rest of the night. Not because he was angry or disappointed, but because he felt like not addressing it at all was the best way to protect her feelings and her pride.

Viper knew she needed to meet up with them quickly, and they needed to get back to their base for the night. Her entire body shook as she packed up her gear, the trembling was both from the cold and the severe anxiety that she was feeling at that moment.

She felt like a complete and utter waste of Soap's time. She felt like all his attention and effort that was used on her was for nothing. She almost blew it.

Viper used everything she had to keep it together as she worked her way down the hill. The last thing she needed was to fall apart in front of them, because then she would be a failure and weak.

At this point, she was just wondering if she still had what it took.

___

She had been staring at the fire for over an hour.

The chill in her bones had faded long ago, but she couldn't bring herself to stand from where she sat -- huddled up in front of the fire, contemplating everything that she had been doing in the last several months.

She could feel the heat radiating off of it, the same heat that might've saved her from hypothermia if she had stayed out in the cold Russian wilderness for too long.

The flames burned bright orange and dark red, dancing and casting long shadows against the far wall behind her. The flames were reflected in her glassy eyes, a painted picture of disappointment and questioning of her own abilities.

She hadn't said a word to Soap or Ghost since meeting back up at the cabin. She was too embarrassed to even spare either of them a passing glance. She felt like she had failed worse than she ever had.

Soap and Ghost gave her space for a bit. They ordered her to sit in front of the fire to get warmed up after being covered in snow and ice for so long. And that was how she found herself stuck in a daze, staring into those burning flames like they were her only source of life.

Their "base" was hardly anything at all. It was a one floor structure that you might could call a house.

This house was nestled in the vast expanse of birch trees that were dusted with snow and decorated with solid icicles. It was a small three room house with a kitchen, living room, and bedroom.

It was a relic, really. Long forgotten and abandoned by someone who was long gone by now. The wooden walls were weathered by the harsh winters and summers of Russia, but the structure was firm and resilient.

As she stared into that fire, Viper wondered what sort of stories and memories this house contained. She wondered what kind of history and life this place had. At least now the house was serving a purpose.

Unlike herself. Or, at least, that was how she felt.

Viper isolated herself in the living room, sitting on the hand-woven rug and ignoring the way the creaky floors made her bottom half ache. Ghost and Soap were cornered in the kitchen, which was only separated from the living room with a singular adjacent wall.

They were crammed together at the small table in there, basically just waiting for enough time to pass before they felt it was right to talk to her.

For Soap to talk to her.

Soap wasn't planning on yelling at her. Soap wasn't sure if he could ever bring himself to yell at her for anything at all.

He thought that maybe she wasn't ready for the kind of pressure this mission put on her. Maybe he was so in love with her that everything she did seemed to be extraordinary...which in turn blinded him to the fact that she needed more time.

But Soap (as much he did love her) felt confident that if this was truly, 100% her fault -- then he would know. Besides, she technically didn't fail this mission. The assassination was successful after all...but he knew that she was hung up on the plain fact that it almost wasn't.

Soap stood from the wooden table, sighing to himself as he mentally prepped for this conversation.

"Go easy on her, Johnny." Ghost said. "She's still learning."

Soap wasn't angry at her in the slightest. If anything, he felt like she should've been angry at him.

"What do I say to her?" Soap asked his lieutenant.

"Encourage her. Reassure her that it's not the end of the world," Ghost said. "And just be you when you say it."

Soap nodded. He understood what Ghost was saying. After all, it wasn't lost on anybody how Soap felt about her.

Soap left Ghost behind, entering the living room that was bursting with warmth. His heart stung at the sight of her so down and discouraged. He needed to fix this.

Soap was silent as he approached her, his footsteps heavy against the creaking floorboards. He lowered himself to the floor, sitting next to her without a word.

She knew he was there. And now that he was there, she had a million thoughts sprinting through the track of her mind. She was scared to speak first, because she didn't know how he was feeling.

"Talk to me, Vi. I'd feel a lot better if you did." He meant to say it as a command, but it came out as more of a request.

She couldn't look at him. She only continued to look at the fireplace in front of her.

"I missed," She said, which was obvious of course, but it was different actually hearing her say it out loud. "Almost twice."

Her voice was meek and insecure. It just wasn't like her.

"Yeah, you did." Soap remarked, his tone neutral and not showing any hard emotion.

"How did I miss?" She stared down at her hands that felt like they were weighing the rest of her down. "I was so prepared..."

"You were prepared -- as prepared as you could'a been." He agreed.

In a weird way, she wanted him to be angry. She wanted him to scream in her face and shake her around until she was begging for another chance and to keep her job. She wanted to suffer for making it look like he had failed to teach her.

But he wasn't going to do any of that. Not to her.

"Then how did I miss?" She was almost scared to ask.

"Unexpected wind. You felt rushed or distracted," He listed a few possibilities. "You got nervous under pressure...I put too much pressure on you."

Viper didn't believe that, even if it was partly true.

"Real soldiers don't get nervous." She remarked, her words sharp.

"Bullshit," He scoffed. "That doesn't make you a soldier. It makes you human."

Viper didn't say anything after that. She felt as if her natural reaction (as a result of being human) to a high-stress situation is what caused her to be unsuccessful in her mission. She hadn't let just herself and Soap down, she had let her entire team down.

Soap was still struggling with how to talk to her. He knew what Ghost had said, but which approach would she react best to -- her sergeant or the guy who had grown sweet on her?

"C'mon, Vi. You took him down," Soap said. "Stop beatin' yourself up."

She shook her head at her sergeant. His sudden casualness almost made her frustrated. She didn't say anything for a few more moments, before she did say something that made Soap immediately begin to panic.

"I'm putting in my resignation when we get back."

Soap processed what she said about as fast as she said it. His heart collapsed to his feet and fired back up into his throat. She couldn't quit. He wouldn't allow it.

He wouldn't lose her like this.

"What?" He blurted, realizing that his goal now was to prevent her from doing something stupid. "You can't leave."

"I missed, John. You can't just miss shots like that."

"Everybody misses," He stated. "And you still took him down the second time. Why can't you understand that?"

A quick beat passed. The crackling of the fire sounded loudly.

"You don't." She mumbled.

"What're you talkin' about? 'Course I've missed," He remarked. "And I've missed enough t'know that everybody misses."

"Okay," She said, her words sharp and defensive. "So what am I supposed to do now?"

He ignored her harsh tone. He kept talking to her as he had been.

"Come back home with me. Keep practicing. Make a perfect technique even more perfect," Soap said. "I promise you, doll -- keep at it n' you won't even think anything of what happened tonight."

She found that hard to believe. How could she ever get over the fact that she almost lost her very first high-pressure mission? The first of many?

Soap was out of things to say. Nothing that he was saying to her seemed to be making a dent. She was stubborn for sure, and now it wasn't working in his favor.

He had to be transparent with her. It was the only way he could talk her out of leaving the team.

Out of leaving him.

"You can't leave, Vi. You just can't," His voice was steady, despite the turmoil inside of him. "I know this life isn't easy, and screwin' up in this profession sucks worse than anything else, but...

Soap felt his heartbeat begin to quicken when she rested her head against his shoulder. It pounded in his chest in a way that made breathing feel difficult, and in a way that made him have to calm himself down. His eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes, hues of orange and red still visible from behind his eyelids.

Such a simple, seemingly meaningless touch made his legs feel wobbly and had his stomach doing somersaults. He was so infatuated with Viper.

Her talent, her skills, her determination. Her eyes, her smile, and just...her. Soap could say without a shadow of a doubt that no one had meant this much to him in a long time...no one had meant this much to him ever.

Soap's gaze was fixed on her. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty, which was a stark contrast to the woman that he knew Viper to be. Seeing her so discouraged and so unsure of herself broke his heart.

"I want you to stay...I need you to stay." His plea hung in the air between them, a testament to the depth of his feelings for her.

She finally looked at him then. The flames of orange and red reflected in her eyes as she tuned into what he was telling her. If her day hadn't already been complicated and taxing on her emotions enough, he would've kissed her.

She wouldn't have minded that in the slightest. At first, Viper thought she was in trouble when she first noticed how she felt about Soap. She felt doomed at first because how could she ever be able to pursue him? He was supposed to be her mentor, despite the fact that he was only a few years older than her.

She was worried at first because she feared that she had fallen for someone who she could never have. How was she supposed to live like that?

But as time went on, she noticed that her affection wasn't one-sided. She caught Soap gazing at her from afar more than once. She didn't miss the way he had a feather-like touch whenever he adjusted the position of her hands on her weapon. She knew that all of Ghost's passing comments and jokes didn't come from nowhere.

And on more than one occasion, she had heard about how much he talked about her.

She knew how she felt about him, and she also knew how he felt about her. After tonight, she was pretty sure that he would have that all figured out as well.

He settled for touching her hand instead, his rough fingers brushing against her delicate hand -- skin that didn't have the hard work experience and hardships that he did. He held her hand in his, a showing of something that extended far past him seeing her as just the soldier he was supposed to train.

He was showing her that he loved her for the woman she was.

Soap knew that he sounded desperate. Mainly because he was desperate. Viper had become such a massive part of his everyday life in the last seven months. Trying to imagine not spending every day with her pained his heart.

After all, she had become the most important person to his heart.

"Okay," She said, her voice serene and smooth. "I'll stay."

Relief rushed his system because he felt like he had another chance. It would take time to rebuild her confidence and teach her to be patient with herself again. But it was a task he was more than willing to take on.

"On one condition." She added.

She cracked a small smile then, which was enough to ignite the fireworks that were ready to explode in his chest. He would do literally anything to keep her around.

"You name it." Soap grinned.

"We have to start practicing and training an extra hour every day." She said, and Soap almost laughed.

That was more than okay with him.

"Deal," He said. "If you're lucky, I might even tell ya why they call me Soap."

Her eyes lit up then, and he almost felt bad for teasing her like that.

Almost.

"Really?" She asked, shifting closer to him to where she was almost snuggled into his side.

She rested her head on his shoulder again, and this time he wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer.

"No." He smirked.

They shared a small laugh before falling into a comfortable silence, the kind that eased any kind of tension or anxiety. He was soaking in her presence, thankful that it wouldn't be last time he would ever get to enjoy it.

As soon as they were back and settled, he was asking her on a proper, real date. As much as he loved it, he figured that somewhere outside of the range was in order.

The two of them sat like that for a long time, basically until the last of the fire had burned out, and all that was left was ashes and smoke. When Soap shifted to stand, he realized that Viper didn't move.

When he craned his neck to look at her, she saw her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and steady. She had fallen asleep on him.

He nearly exploded through the ceiling.

He had to contain himself and not wake her because he wanted her to get as much rest as she could. He was careful as he moved to scoop her up, hushing her when she stirred and made mid-slumber noises of discontent from being disturbed.

He carried her and whisked her from the living room, cutting through the kitchen to get to the bedroom to put her in bed. Ghost, who had been on watch this entire time, saw this encounter and couldn't help but smirk.

"I assume all went well?" Ghost asked, and he felt proud at the beaming smile on Soap's face.

"Yeah. You could say that."

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

So glad to see you popping up on my dash!! I’ve got a req from the soulmates post!

#15 No harm done - soulmates are not able to hurt each other physically

This with Sevika? What if there’s a big fight and it’s down to the two of you and maybe you’re already pretty badly injured so she comes stalking over to finish the job and take you out but then she CANT 😫😭💕 OR!! Silco has you hostage and wants her to interrogate you? She’d wind up for a smack or something and just be stopped mid air. Either way, I’d love to see her face journey upon realizing who you are to her bc I imagine she’d be the type that’s convinced she’ll never find/doesn’t have a soulmate and now she has to accept that she is capable and deserving of love >:}

Also in the specific scenarios I can’t remember the number and I’m on mobile but the constant danger one would be so cute with Soma! Or really any of the ladies tbh they’re always into some shit lol I just always want more Soma in my life 💘

I'll write the Soma one later if I get the inspo in my brain for it! But here it is! Sevika for 15! It's a little angsty but also my first time writing for her!!!!

Summary: Telling Silco no is a bad idea, especially when he sends Sevika, his right hand, after you. Though... maybe it's not so bad if she can't actually hurt you?

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Genre: Soulmate, Not Smut

Potential TW: Violence, some stalking, mentions of killing read

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The fear that struck your heart was not a new one, especially down here in Zaun. Fear was rampant in this place, no one was free from it. The lowest feared as prey, rabbits to be tracked and shot down by hunters. The highest weren’t exempt from it either, though the fear they felt was one born of greed. Of coins and power slipping through their fingers. 

It wasn’t like you intended to get on Silco’s bad side. You weren’t someone of power to be feared by others, you weren’t even really a threat to him. But you told him no. 

No, you wouldn’t serve his men. No, you wouldn’t distribute shimmer through Zaun. No, you wouldn’t back down. You liked Vander. You liked that he cared for his people without trying to beat others down. So what that he worked with Piltover? If it kept people safe, if it kept the upper side’s nose out of your business, so what. He was a father, a guardian. Silco was a monster. 

And you had told his right hand that, right to her face. Her rather handsome face, once found in Vander’s men, now stinking up the door to your establishment. It twists up in anger, in rage.

“What?” She had said, a simple, low voiced threat that had part of you thrumming with a disgusting streak of desire. 

“I said, no, Sevika. I’m not a pusher of some fucked up drug. I’m a fucking florist struggling to get through life down here. I can’t risk that.”

“Silco doesn’t take no for an answer, (Y/N).” She said. “Just because you’re ‘not the type’ doesn’t make you exempt from his requests.”

“He’s not a king. He’s not my boss.” You had responded, slamming the door shut in her face. She stayed there for a few moments, and you had feared for a few long moments that she was going to take that mechanical arm and punch through the door, taking your throat with it. 

Instead, she quietly left, taking her men laughing with her. 

You had thought that that was that. Silco and his men left you alone for a time, and instead, your flowers flourished. It was frustrating. There was an improvement with the shimmer, a double edged sword that you were sure would come crashing down on Zaun any moment. 

Then, Sevika started appearing standing on the other side of the street of your shop. Staring, waiting. Never making a move, never moving closer. It scared you, enough to make you change your routine, but like clockwork, she would adjust within a day. A predator, waiting for her chance to clamp her teeth around the throat of her prey.

So you decided to run. Pack your things and run. You could beg on the streets of Piltover. Hell, maybe you could even leave. Crossing Silco was one thing, but Sevika being the one to take you out? She was going to make it hurt. She was going to make sure that you weren’t found ever again. And you can’t risk it. 

Which is how you found yourself in this situation, sitting in some abandoned closet in some abandoned home, clutching a knife close to your chest as you hear Sevika rip through your belongings. 

You weren’t going to make it out of this alive, that knowledge settling deep in your bones. But you can give it a fighting chance, maybe she might make it quick, knowing you weren’t going to be a coward and die weakly. That’s the one thing you can do in Zaun: die strong.

Even so, a part of you mourned. You never figured out who they were, your soulmate, the one you were destined to love, waiting these long years in the darkness of Piltover. Waited for so long, only to be snuffed out by a mere puppet of a monsterous man who ruled your home. Your fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife as your killer approaches the closet. 

“Come out, (Y/N).” She says, voice low in that threatening way that made your stomach turn. “You know that you can’t fight me. Not with whatever little weapon you have. Silco just wants to talk.” 

“We both know that the talk is going to end up with me dead.” You say. You wish that you could respond with the confidence you had when you got yourself into this mess, all pride and strength. Instead, you just put your foot on the door, offering resistance for whenever she decided to rip it off the hinges. 

“Maybe if you stopped trying both of our patiences,” Sevika growls, punching the door for a threatening emphasis. “you wouldn’t be worried about that. You can either die now, or die if he gives the order.”

“I’m not gonna wait for that, and you know it.” 

She sighs, a deep, tired sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

And the door comes right off its hinges, though your booted foot did nothing to give you time. The wood slings across to the other side of the room, and you start slashing wildly, missing each time before she knocks the dinky knife out of your hand with one flick. A scream escapes your lips, hoping beyond hope someone would take pity on your in your last moments, even if that someone was Sevika. You’re lifted up by your shirt collar and dragged out of the closet, kicking and sobbing for someone to save you. 

Your feet dangle, and without thinking, you wrap your hands around her organic wrist for some kind of subconsious reassurance. The feeling of her skin against your fingers shocks you. She’s human, just like you. but she’s fixing to kill you. She’s killed before. She’s watched the life drain out of so many people and you were no exception. 

Your touch does nothing to her, seemingly. No flinch, no hesitation. Instead, she pulls back her mechanical fist and pulls it back. You close your eyes, tears dripping down your cheeks as you brace for the end. 

But the end doesn’t come. And it doesn’t come for a few minutes actually. So you crack open an eye, looking at her with relief. She must have changed her mind. The look on Sevika’s face however, was one of horror. Her fist was still raised, and you see the muscle of her shoulder straining. Then, you’re gently lowered to the ground, her hand still loosely curled into the fabric of your shirt.

“Ch… Change of mind?” You ask, still terrified out of your wits end. 

“I can’t.” 

“Can’t what? Kill me?”

“Hurt you.” She says. The words seem to slip out of her mouth, like she wanted to stop them before they were spoken. “I can’t hurt you, (Y/N).” 

It takes a moment. At first, you think she’s simply taking pity on you, or maybe she respects you too much after your attempts to prevent your own death. Then it sinks in. Sevika tried to hurt you, but physically, she couldn’t. Which meant…

“I’m your soulmate. We’re… We’re soulmates.” 

Speaking it out loud only seems to upset her further. She shifts, turning her face away and letting her right hand drop from your person. Though she doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak. She just looks… uncomfortable. 

As you stand there, basking in the strange feeling that your soulmate just tried to kill you, that your soulmate was Sevika, you come to realize something about Sevika. You thought her a killer, someone ready to switch sides at any given moment but… now, as she stands there awkward as a teenager, you remember that she might have had expectations about this too. Hopes about soulmates, dreams about them. Was she disappointed? Was she ashamed? 

“What are you going to do?” Is all you’re able to ask, all you can manage to get out. 

She regards you out of the corner of her eye before she runs a hand over her face. “... Let you go. But you need to get out of Zaun. Never come back here.” She says. 

“What? But you’re my… you want me to leave after we just found out???” 

“Obviously!” She snaps. “Silco wants you dead, I can’t afford to fail, but…” She moves as though she’s going to pace, but then stops, like she can’t bring herself to move from you. There’s a pause before she rests a hand on your shoulder. “I never thought I would have one… would have you. You’re a weakness, that insecurity was a weakness. That desire was. It still is. So you’re going to leave Zaun, hell, maybe the whole city. I can’t have you haunting my steps.”

“So I’m a bother to you??” You ask, incredulous at the fact that she’s trying to get you to leave. Angry at the fact that you finally have what you’ve always wanted and now she’s pushing you away despite the fact that maybe now she can protect you.

“You’re a weakness. And a pain in my ass.” Sevika says. “I’m not… I’m not doing this. Just leave.” 

And before you can say anything, she pulls you into a kiss, hard, fast, and passionate. Better than any you’ve had before. And you mourn this bittersweet moment, because you know deep down that she’s right. 

Her loyalty is to Zaun, and if anything comes before that…

She’d have helped kill Vander for nothing, because she would do the same things he did to make sure you were safe.