#ghosts of the steel road

[uraniumwriting]

OMG SHIMMER, any wip, I just wanna see what you do with it

Send me a number/word and I'll write a little something with the word or phrase

I couldn't move. While I had been lucky to not be trapped beneath the sharp rocks and other nasty rubble in what used to be a cave, the fresh mountain air outside didn't provide much relief. My whole body screamed with pain, and the cold night air stung my already struggling lungs.

Just when I thought I was doomed to lay on the snowy, rocky ground forever, I was gently but firmly picked up just enough so my head rested on something softer than the rocks.

"We're okay," Caspian said softly. "We're safe now."

I leaned my head into the crook of Caspian's neck and let my body relax. Stretching all around us, the snow which covered the mountainside shimmered in the moonlight. The sight was almost enough to let me forget about everything for a moment.

Almost.

"It's over, right?" I reached out for Caspian's hand. Without even needing to ask, he intertwined his fingers with mine.

"It's over." he said.

Shivering, I shifted closer to Caspian, who just took me in his arms and pulled me as close to him as possible. For the first time in a while, I closed my eyes and rested.

Though, I was still alert enough to notice the gentle kiss he planted on the top of my head.

[schlock-luster-video]

Remembering film icon Patrick Swayze on the anniversary of his birth.

R.I.P. ( 1952 - 2009)

[evermoreal]

thinking abt some kind of outlaw!au where the 141 walk away from a raid with a lot more than they bargained for.

a few weeks back they’d received word of a nobleman and his wife who’d be leaving for their honeymoon, valuables aboard the carriage. after a bit of lurking and bribing, they’d narrowed down just which road was desolate and wild enough to get away with the raid.

concealed by the bordering forests, they’d waited. an embarrassingly opulent carriage came dawdling down the road (polished wood, velvet curtains, ostentatious engravings) & they pounced.

the drivers & guards, they’d expected. the gunshots, the shouting. what took them by surprise, though, was the wife, who did not fight as gaz wrestled her into his arms. who watched a little too closely when ghost dragged his blade across her husband’s chest, demanding the location of their funds.

“where’s’a money?” price questioned, moving towards the woman when her husband’s pride weighed heavier than his cowardice. his broad palm gripped her jaw as gaz held her arms behind her back. “hm, lovey? y’speak english? y’better tell me, or your sweetheart ‘ere ‘ll be gutted before tha night’s over.”

she watched her husband writhe for a long moment, before meeting price’s gaze. her voice was flat, steady. “kill him.”

soap barked a laugh. ghost cocked his head.

price, though, was intrigued.

“kill ‘im?” he echoed. then, he lifted her hand, yanking the diamond ring off her finger and pinching it between his fingers. “wha’ bout this? just a rock, is it? ‘till death do us part’ mean nothin’ to ya?”

“words don’t mean much when you’re forced to say them, sir.”

“forced?” price questions, narrowed eyes flicking across your features. he looks to your husband, then, who’s soiled his pants. “tha fuck is this muppet forcin’?”

price is quiet for a while, watching your husband as he wriggles in ghost’s grip. when he meets your gaze, there’s a small, barely-there curve to his chapped lips. “you really want ‘im dead?” there’s an amusement to his tone, a disbelief.

you steel your gaze. “yes.”

the curve of his lips bends into a grin, and you’ve barely exhaled before he’s lifting his pistol, aiming it at your husband’s head, and shooting.

limp, he falls to the ground.

you don’t flinch. in fact your voice is steady when you state, “the money’s in the chest, beneath the seats.”

once again, price approaches you. grips your jaw, tilts your face this way and that. he taps your cheek twice, and says, “you heard the woman. soap, get the money. gaz, tie ‘er up, she’s with me.”

[rememberwren]

Thinking about fem!reader running out of condoms with Ghost, just something that plays into all my seedy kinks.

Both of you know it’s a bad idea, but he’s just come home from who-knows-where (“Classified.”) and you’ve had nothing but your fingers and lackluster toys for the last two weeks. The little drugstore down the road closes early on the weekends. It’s either hand and mouth stuff or more dangerous games like—

“You can just pull out right?”

And he almost takes that as a challenge. Can he pull out? Can he pull out? Yes, in theory he can. He can bury himself in your tight wet pussy, thrust himself all the way to the edge, and then deny himself. Absolutely. Self denial is his MO.

So proceeds the most frantic fucking you can remember. Something about the sheer naughtiness of it sends your arousal skyrocketing. Nothing ever feels so good as the thing you know you shouldn’t be doing, his body pressing yours into the bed, cock buried to the root inside you touching that place that your fingers can never reach.

Of course, it just so happens to feel that way for Ghost, too. You’re soft and wet and along with making these sounds that go straight to his head, muttering the softest dirty talk he’s ever heard under your breath like, cock feels so good, missed you so much, don’t ever want you to stop fucking me. And he’s getting close. Normally he could fuck you through his own orgasm and into one of your own, but these aren’t normal circumstances. You have to cum first.

I’d personally like to see him slow to near glacial speeds as he fights to keep a handle on his orgasm, sometimes having to grit his teeth and stop altogether, sweaty forehead buried in the crook of your neck. But when he does, it makes you even more frantic, Please don’t stop Simon, so close, need it, needed it yesterday, please don’t stop, which kills him all over again.

Maybe he pulls out early, before you cum. Maybe he crawls down the bed and eats you like you’re his last meal, but that’s personally not as fun as imagining him steeling himself and rolling onto his back, letting you set the quick frantic pace as he frees his hands to play with your tits or thumb your clit, his eyes shut and breaths stuttered until he feels the first blissful clenches of your cunt around him—and just barely wrenches you off of him in time for him to wrap a hand around his cock and jerk once, twice to a synapses-blowing release.

Immediately mutters: “Getting you that fancy pill first thing in the morning just in case.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls 10 2/2

Masterpost

Jazz’s roommate Tiffany was fine and all that, but Danny didn’t feel that he was missing out on much when he phased from the stairwell directly into the little ensuite bathroom that connected to Jazz’s bedroom. He could hear quiet conversation from the living room– the TV, maybe?

But Jazz had clearly locked her bedroom door before she left. Danny made a note that Tiffany definitely wouldn’t be finding him and then he starfished on his sister’s bed. He set an alarm for 1 am with a smidge of guilt. It probably wouldn’t wake her up. Maybe she wouldn’t even stay home for the night, she had a boyfriend, right? Or was she the one with the girlfriend who worked downtown?

Whatever. Danny slept like the dead. In fact, he slept through his alarm and woke up to see 7 messages from Jazz. The one showing on the screen was “DANIEL FENTON Tiffany thinks my bedroom is HAUNTED because someone is snoring in there.”

“Oops,” Danny said under his breath. He opened up the clock app and made sure that the alarm wasn’t going to go off again. He quietly pulled open Jazz’s drawers to find a clean pair of socks and a hoodie that didn’t have his university name written on it.

The first thing he pulled out was a baby pink hoodie that had SQUAT written on it in white all-caps print. “I sure do,” he said to himself, and changed into it. It was a lie. He did not lift weights. That was Jazz’s hobby.

He did enjoy the thought of how pinched her face was gonna get when she saw him in her clothes. Danny had a little chuckle over it before he phased back out and nearly fell down the staircase. His arms wheeled for balance.

When he caught himself he looked around to be sure no one saw. The zone was clear. Danny smirked.

“Another perfect landing for the Phantom.”

Oh, duh. That was a thought. He didn’t have to hoof it.

It was dark enough that he reconsidered his plan to walk to Arkham on foot and ducked back into Jazz’s place to transform where no one could see the light show.

He made good time across the stretch of ocean that separated Jazz’s dream job from the rest of Gotham City. He knew where to go, based off of insider information.

Jeremy Waters had landed himself in Arkham, rather than standard criminal housing, because he would not shut the fuck up about the debt the Ghost King was going to owe him and how he would repay it in the blood of everyone who crossed him or whatever. He was in the low security end, given that he was just some dude, but Danny still spend a moment steeling himself to wake Jeremy and (ugh) talk to him.

‘He’s going to take this as positive feedback,’ Danny thought glumly. ‘He’s going to think he’s gotten something in his obsession with me. He’s probably going to be even more annoying.’

He wasn’t entirely sure that Jeremy’s focus on gifting him spouses wasn’t projection. The guy was kinda obsessed.

The weight class difference between the two of them was just absurd, metaphysically speaking. Jeremy was a 52 year old Poli-sci graduate who had ditched a middle of the road career in the Foreign Service at age 40 and started pursuing immortality. Midlife crisis and all that. He had a bit of boxing experience, but that was it. He was just a human guy.

Danny was king of the dead and he could shoot lasers from his hands. He was strong even for a ghost.

‘It’s pathetic that he creeps me out still. It’s just such bad vibes to be pursued by this old guy who won’t take no for an answer.’

Still, gotta do what you gotta do. He blew frost into the room to set a mood and scramble the fuck out of any surveilance equipment. Then he grimaced his way through calling out, “Jeremy. Jeremy. Jeremy!” until the jerk woke up.

…and immediately started genuflecting. “My lord Phantom,” Jeremy whimpered. His whole body was shaking.

Danny wished it was fear. But no. It was excitement, like he was some freaky little purse dog. He shuddered. “What did you do differently in your latest summoning?” he asked. His voice somehow came out cold and superior.

He could see Jeremy’s dazed grin even when the guy was still looking at the cell floor. “I am so glad that you ask, my lord,” he babbled. “I increased the number of ritual participants from 7 to 12. I changed from Kosher to Pink Himalayan salt. I was initially going to offer my humble self as a sacrifice-”

Danny’s stomach lurched.

“But when the Red Hood burst in, I knew that it was a sign!”

The red what now?

“Surely someone whose aura is so soaked in death and brutality would be a flavorful meal for one so horrendous and deathly as you, my Lord,” Jeremy babbled on.

Danny made a face.

‘He thinks I’m going to eat the sacrifice spouse?’ Danny paused. ‘...Was he lying, or does he want me to eat him? What does he think will happen if death eats him?’

He had a morbid curiousity that made him want to ask. But it was probably best not to know. He needed to sleep at night.

“It was the Pink Himalayan salt that was powerful enough to draw my attention,” Danny told Jeremy, because he really didn’t need any good information. “I reject your offering. Stop trying.”

He left immediately in hopes of not hearing the wailing and gnashing of teeth behind him.

[clairdelunelove]

call me

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (rescue drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of motorcyclist!ghost, protective!ghost

synopsis: the downtime after missions was rarely a time that ghost looked forward to. everyone's aware to leave him alone during this period. that is, until he gets a call from you asking for his help to rescue you from an awkward situation!

a.n. wOW! hi lovelies, it's been a while! I was inspired to write this because something similar happened to me at an anime convention! and yes it was with a mw 2019 jawbone ghost cosplayer hehe (¬‿¬) oh, here's my kofi! and pls enjoy! <3

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obsessed with the idea that ghost would drop everything and come running to you if you called him. 

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the conclusion of an operation was, albeit, a bit bittersweet for ghost. sure, he benefited from the downtime of not being in an environment that constantly triggered his fight or flight response and a small break was necessary for his well-being to avoid pushing past his physical limitations. yet, those were the only beneficial factors he could conjure up. most operators took advantage of the intermission to catch up with friends at pubs or visit family for a couple days– a luxury he never allowed himself to have. thus, he spent the days of rest endlessly secluded. trapped within the barren walls of his flat. choosing to occupy his time thumbing through a nonfiction novel or finishing some exterior maintenance. he referred to his living space as a place to rest his chaos. to ease his hardships into a lasting slumber– that is, until he’d receive intel about a new operation. and his home was an enigma of great strength accompanied with struggle, providing a solitude that ghost was well acquainted with. he preferred it that way. no one reaches out to him during this time of isolation. which is why he doesn’t expect your name to flash on his phone’s screen and it’s even more astounding that he chooses to pick up the call. 

ghost who leans low enough that his leg almost touches the smooth asphalt when he cruises down the road. the sleek, pitch-black motorcycle adapts easily when he wrenches the steel handlebars. after adjusting in his seat, his gloved hands rev to intensify the speed while his mind recalls the conversation he had with you. approximately two minutes ago. the way you quietly pleaded, “could you please come and get me?” and immediately, the lack of context backed with the sticky hoarseness in your voice awakened unease within him. “you hurt?” his instinctive question is followed with a gruff, “who do I need to talk to.” and the sheer seriousness of his threat forces a minor giggle to leave your lips. the sound encourages him to mull over possibilities. where were you? where could you be right now? think, damn it, think. he drags a heavy hand across his face while vaguely remembering the lighthearted conversation you had earlier in the week. a pair of squad members had politely asked about your weekend plans to which you shared that you planned to get some grocery shopping out of the way. a mundane answer that pulled a couple laughs. but now, the rather ordinary task seemed to evolve into a nightmare as he hears you suck in a wobbly breath. “you still in town, sweetheart?” ghost forces his voice steady despite the crazed way he’s tugging on his shoes and shoving away stray papers to retrieve his keys. you instantly respond that you are and he tries not to dwell on the chance that his presence might’ve helped calm your nervousness. compels himself to solve the blatant issue before figuring out why his decision-making is so sudden. why he’s swiftly weaving through traffic in hopes of finding you when he should be relaxing at his flat. but his voice rumbles out of your phone’s speaker when he instructs, “stay put. I’ll come get you.” 

ghost who visibly tenses up when he spots you from the crowd of shoppers. most are occupied in their own business; choosing from a variety of commodities or paying for their groceries at the checkout line. but that’s not what he’s here for. treading through aisles, his appearance manages to raise curiosity from a couple onlookers before they tactfully glance away from the massive man. having one’s identity partially hidden away by layers of clothing while clutching onto a motorcycle helmet tends to facilitate that reaction from the average citizen. it works in his favor. his heavy-lidded eyes scan the room and before long he recognizes a tuft of your hair. he figured his first encounter with you would be under different circumstances, albeit more jovial and perhaps you’d grace him with one of those blinding smiles that you reserve solely for him. however, all he sees is vermillion flooding his vision. you’re backed into a secluded corner of the store by a sleazy man who’s testing his luck. unfortunately for the stranger, ghost was never a believer of good fortune. you venture to put more distance between you and the man but to no avail. he inches closer. “like I said earlier,” you strive to keep your tone of voice stable, “he’s on his way already. I don’t need a ride.” a courageous act but the guy is already responding. a shoddy decision, in ghost’s opinion, because upon hearing the stranger’s crude innuendo, ghost’s nails form crescents within his palms from how fiercely he’s balling his fists. sees you shrink from the words. and he’s a reaper with the sole mission to deliver punishment.

ghost who eases beside you and subtly reaches to touch your shoulder while murmuring, “I’ve got you.” his voice leaves his lips in a soothing drawl that has you inwardly crooning. safety is synonymous with him. always is. initially checks in with you before engaging in conversation with the stranger. you’re top priority. “simon?” his name is a relieved gasp from your plush lips. clearly you weren’t expecting him to step into the situation with hopes of diffusing it. he slowly tilts his head, “told ya I’d come.” mentions it like it’s a common occurrence that he spends his downtime shutting down harassment directed towards you. yet the first observation you make is that he’s dressed rather casually. clad in an ash-colored hoodie and denim jeans that always cause you to wonder whether he has them tailored because of how well they fit his physique. the homey outfit is a sight to behold considering you typically saw him in uniform; you ravished the domestic image. burnt it into your memory for safe keeping. apparently, so does ghost. “you look proper cozy today.” waving a gloved hand, he indicates your casual outfit and the sudden change of topic prompts a small grin to form on your face. which, ultimately, is his entire plan. dragging your eyes to a sudden motion, you watch as he rolls his sleeves up to reveal a swirl of veins and intricately tatted skin. he’s mystifying; everything about him is– which seemingly adds to his appeal and no matter how vigorously you fight against it, you can’t help but feel the inevitable pull. “don’t get any ideas, sweetheart.” of course the comment is meant to scold but the breathy rasp in his voice morphs it into pure sin. he shoots you an inquisitive glance when he regards your heated gaze and wordlessly chastises your behavior with a raise of his dark brows. 

ghost who absolutely resents whenever someone interrupts you. the act itself is rude beyond doubt but it’s especially ignorant when it concerns you. and the tacky stranger had the audacity to do it in front of ghost. from beneath his mask, he clenches his jaw when the other man decides to open his mouth to continue conversing with you. again. ghost shifts, positioning himself between the two of you, and spits out the words, “you’re doing me ‘ead in. do one, will ya?” his tone is level, devoid of any expletives in his question yet his manchester accent is gravelly enough for his words to border a threat. the manifestation of trouble. he pushes up his sleeves for good measure. truth be told, ghost would’ve simply told the other man to ‘piss off.’ perhaps give him the finger. but you were around and he favored appearing posh. 

ghost who basks in the gratifying burn of watching the stranger scurry away from just his words. runs like a scruffy dog getting caught going through a trash bin and he bites back a snicker. but who wouldn’t run from ghost? dressed as the embodiment of shadows and danger. probably his physique too, if he was being honest. towering at six feet and some more. he states, “don’t think the bloke was fond of me.” can’t refrain from the mockery that lines his words. perhaps the possessiveness was corrupting him more than he imagined. he glances at you, paying special regard to the way the corners of your lips curl at his remark, “suppose you’re right. I appreciate you coming, by the way.” isn’t quite sure why you’re thanking him. he’d rush to you whenever you needed him. but he dismisses it with a throaty, “not a problem.” and it dawns on him that the two of you are alone. away from the prying eyes of the task force members. surrounded by the normalcy of civilian life. and the motorcycle gear that he’s adorned with seems obvious that there’s more to him than he lets on. like the fact that he rushed here without a second doubt. there’s a glimmer in your eyes and he’s aware that your mind is racing with possibilities. “I wonder,” there’s a playfulness in your tone as you shift closer to him, “what was lieutenant riley up to before coming to my rescue?”  

ghost who exhibits the duality of man when he’s with you. his voice gets caught in his throat and he promptly answers, “nothin'.” because you’re placing a gentle hand on his forearm. vanquishes him to a robot that can only utter a single word from a single touch. this wasn’t what he was like before; the esteemed protector with a jealous streak. no, he’s reduced to a pining jumble of tenderness for you. even through the layers of clothing he recognizes your warmth and yearns for it. you gaze up at him through your lashes, a telltale sign that his lack of plans served as an invitation to propose more. he knows that look. “you’re quite a secretive man, simon,” you teasingly narrow your eyes, “has anyone ever told you that?” your fingertips trace the swirls of ink on his arm and he desperately tries to fight against the way his eyes drop into a half-lidded stare. your touch always reduces him to a puddle of adoration. “no,” he breathes out and hopes to convey his ardor in irony, “never.” knows you’re grinning at his automatic responses and heat bubbles within him. 

ghost who allows your caress to dip down to his wrist which, conveniently, was the hand that held onto his motorcycle helmet. watches as you draw delicate patterns on the helmet’s shell. recognizes that you’re working up courage. for what, he's not sure. maybe you’ll ask him how long he’s been a motorcyclist. that’s typically the first question that’s settled. but nothing could prepare him for your honeyed voice that asks, “can I ride?” and how you use him as leverage to push up on your tiptoes and pleadingly whisper, “please?” he's pretty certain that you mean getting a ride on his motorcycle. yet, with the way your lips are practically pressing against his neck and how the heat of your breath forces him to stifle a groan of satisfaction, all logic flies out the window. pure, unadulterated hunger for you seizes ghost in an unexplainable grasp. he needs you. wishes he could whisk you away to someplace else. perhaps to his place. gosh, he appreciated the downtime after a mission. “bloody vixen,” he murmurs lowly while slipping the helmet into your hands, “it’s all yours, sweetheart.” on his motorcycle it typically takes 10 minutes flat to get to his place or 7 minutes if he turns a blind eye to the speed limit– which is an act he’s willingly committed before. 

[aevallare]

faith (halsin x f!tav)

ao3 link if preferred summary:

“I like you," Aeva says. "I don’t know if I understand what that means.”

It would be awkward if it wasn’t so honest, so unabashedly her. Aeva spent most of her life as a slave and the time after that with only the wildlife at the Giant’s Chalice for companionship. He hasn’t allowed his heart to stir this way since Reithwin fell, but in pledging herself to his cause as he pledges himself to hers, Aeva hasn’t given him a choice.

“The feeling is mutual,” Halsin says. Aeva’s lips twitch.

tags: Porn with Feelings, First Time, Act II, Breeding, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Touch Aversion, Vague Implications of Infertility, References to Past Sexual Assault

Halsin avoids her the day after she kisses him. He doesn’t mean to — no, that’s a lie. He doesn’t want to. He just doesn’t trust himself, exactly. Aeva is no fragile doll, but she showed him a place where she’s cracked, last night, and he has to be honest. They were both raw from confronting ghosts and killing skeletons. The bear within him would have been difficult to control, and he’d like to offer her a gentler touch than that despite the steel of her exterior.

“Drunkenness does not come to me naturally. I apologize for my behavior last night.”

Aeva is so quiet. Halsin never hears her coming.

“I require no apology,” Halsin says. She stands next to him, staring straight into the curse-tinged darkness for which there is no one to blame but himself. “As I said, I only wished for you not to do something you would come to regret.”

“Of all things in this life, I am not sure how someone like you could be a regret,” she says, all but silent. The melancholy that always underlines her words is exaggerated by the dread Halsin feels as he takes in the road ahead. There are many whose lives would be better for not knowing him, Halsin thinks. He is a regret for no small number of reasons for people he doesn’t want to begin to count. For the druids of the grove that he failed, for the matron whose collar he slipped, for Thaniel, who he lost when it mattered most—

“Halsin?” Aeva says his name in her whisper-voice, and he inhales deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut as he centers himself. The rot in the air permeates everything; there’s no peace to be found in this place and he is the reason why. “Halsin.”

No. He never hears her coming.

Aeva’s hand slips into his. His gaze snaps to her, but her expression hasn’t changed. The comfort is surprising but hardly unwelcome, especially from someone who’s so particular about touch. Her cheeks darken the slightest when she feels his eyes on her, but she says, “You want to lift this curse, so we’ll lift it.”

He could kiss her, but he doesn’t get the chance. He probably wouldn’t have taken it anyway. She’s more comfortable when she sets the pace. When Aeva stretches up, though, Halsin leans down to meet her, and her lips brush against his. She pulls away as quickly as she leaned into him and says, “I like you. I don’t know if I understand what that means.”

It would be awkward if it wasn’t so honest, so unabashedly her. Aeva spent most of her life as a slave and the time after that with only the wildlife at the Giant’s Chalice for companionship. He hasn’t allowed his heart to stir this way since Reithwin fell, but in pledging herself to his cause as he pledges himself to hers, Aeva hasn’t given him a choice.

“The feeling is mutual,” Halsin says. Aeva’s lips twitch.

“What happens next, then? Shadow Curse notwithstanding.”

A question for the ages, no doubt. He had vowed never to allow himself pleasures of the flesh until he righted the evil done unto Reithwin, but he’s closer than he’s ever been to being able to do something about the Curse, and it’s thanks to her.

“The curse is a large condition to have looming over us,” Halsin says, but he doesn’t feel as desperate as he had before Aeva snuck up beside him. “But if you would have me, I would have you.”

“I would prefer not to be surrounded by ghostly ravens and sentient shadows the first time, at least,” Aeva says mildly.

“As you wish,” Halsin says, laughing even as they face down the consequences of his every failure.

Astarion pushes between them, apparently fed up with waiting, and walks into the darkness, Shadowheart on his heels. “Cowards, the both of you. If you’re going to fuck, at least do it somewhere that the rest of us can have the pleasure of watching.”

Aeva frowns. Halsin chuckles. They won’t be safe until the curse is lifted. He has time to think about how best to move forward.

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

Halsin was wrong. Last Light is a bastion of Selûnite magic in the heart of the darkness, and the time for consideration has passed quicker than he could have imagined. Aeva, as always, is the picture of efficiency. She begins to shed her armor the moment that the door to a private room closes behind them, and Halsin says, “Patience, little fox.”

Aeva blinks at him as if she doesn’t understand the concept, thoughts unreadable as her eyes bore into him. Navigating her touch adversity is at the forefront of his mind, but she solves the puzzle for him, pulling him close until he has her wedged against the door. This feels like a betrayal of his self-imposed moratorium on carnal pleasure, but, “You should take fun where you can find it,” he’d told her.

What kind of man would he be to make a liar of himself?

A selfish one. This isn’t about morals. It’s about desire. And for once, he and the bear are in alignment.

They both want her.

Aeva managed to remove most of her armor before Halsin stopped her, but she wears a shirt for his hands to slip under, still. Her abdomen tenses as his fingers roam over her core, and Halsin hesitates. “Don’t stop,” she exhales.

When her shirt falls to the floor, there are more scars on Aeva’s skin than Halsin can trace. It pains him, but he’s hardly surprised. His masters, too, were cruel. Aeva’s breath comes in gasps, equal parts anticipation and resistance to flee, and again, Halsin pauses.

Aeva’s eyes are flinty when she meets his. “I said not to stop.”

“Your body says otherwise.”

“My mind knows better than my flesh,” Aeva says stubbornly. “You will not break me. You do not have the heart for it.”

It’s a compliment wrapped in an insult. Aeva’s throat quivers despite the bravery in her voice, and Halsin hears what she’s saying perfectly.

I choose to trust you despite my fear.

She is a marvel.

Kissing her means dipping low. She’s shorter than him by a head and then some, but the reward is more than worth the effort. Aeva’s pulse flutters in her throat as Halsin’s lips meet hers, and one of her hands falls between his legs. His hips roll into her touch instinctively, and the growl that rumbles deep in his throat isn’t him. He can’t afford to lose control completely, and the bear thrashes within him, the primal desire to mark, to claim, to breed—

To breed?

It’s becoming clearer by the moment, especially as Aeva’s fingers dip low to loosen his trousers, that this may have been a mistake, and not because he doesn’t want to do this. He wants to do this too much.

Her hand slips beneath his waistband. The moment that Aeva’s fingers trail along the outline of his cock, Halsin runs his tongue over his teeth, and again, Aeva pulls him closer, fussing with her own clothes, leggings and underwear both dropping to the floor. There’s no room to doubt what her intentions are, but—

She’s more eager than he’s comfortable with, and when he murmurs, “I’ll hurt you if you don’t give me a chance first, little fox,” Aeva blinks.

“And?”

Confusion colors Aeva’s gaze, and Halsin’s lips part. When he doesn’t speak, Aeva says, “I don’t care if it hurts.”

If she wasn’t all but naked and pressed to him, if her nails didn’t dig into his chest, he might think she was uninterested, but that isn’t the case, and if there’s anything that he knows about Aeva, it’s that she doesn’t appreciate it when people push. When Halsin does, he doesn’t do it with words. It’s the first touch he’s initiated since they walked into this room, but he cages her beneath him, one elbow on the door for support and the other finding purchase behind Aeva’s head. He tilts her chin up to capture her mouth once more, and this time, she doesn’t tense. Her body is as tough as her resolve, but her lips give him entrance when his tongue seeks it.

“I care if it hurts you,” he says after, and Aeva’s brow furrows as if he’s said something incomprehensible. For a moment, Halsin thinks she might say something, but Aeva remains wordless as he kisses his way down her stomach, paying tribute to as many of her thousands of scars as he can manage.

When his hands grip her thighs and his kisses finally meet the trail of hair between her navel and hips as he kneels before her, Aeva tenses. Halsin’s touch lightens, and he looks up at her for any indication of what she wants to happen next. Aeva holds his gaze.

Her thighs quiver on either side of him.

“Would you allow me the honor?” he asks, and for a moment, he thinks Aeva might pull a knife on him.

Instead, he can all but hear the dryness of her mouth as she says, “Slaves aren’t permitted—”

He interrupts her. “I see no slaves here.”

The silence stretches on into eternity, and at last, she nods, a motion so minute that he might miss it if he wasn’t staring at her as if she was the only thing in the room. He holds her gaze even as his lips part, and when the flat of his tongue slides gently over the exposed nub between her legs, Aeva keens. Her hands flex as if she doesn’t know what to do with them, and Halsin wraps a gentle hand around one wrist to pull it to the back of his head. His cock throbs at the heady taste of her, and Aeva hesitates for only a moment before her fingers weave into his hair. When Halsin pulls away just enough to brush his thumb against her clit, Aeva whimpers, eyes still frantically trained on him.

She’s not the type to ask for permission, but when Halsin does as she did and nods, Aeva’s grip in his hair tightens to lead his mouth back to the place it’s wanted to be for hours. Days.

The first taste was quick, all but stolen. The second is a draught that Halsin would never interrupt if not for his need to breathe. Aeva’s hand in his hair serves little purpose but to steady her. If she vied for control, Halsin would relinquish it without hesitation, but she doesn’t. He presses a kiss to her clit. She shudders, and he’s hardly done anything yet.

When his tongue enters her, Aeva gasps, “Hells.”

It occurs to him that this might be the first time anyone’s performed this act for her. He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever performed any act for her; with what little he knows, it seems that mostly things have been done to her.

Halsin’s not a possessive man, but the bear finds the idea of people taking from this woman time and time again an encroachment of territory. And she hadn’t wanted to — Halsin’s more than capable of reading between the lines of her touch-aversion and stony exterior.

The bear threatens to rage.

Halsin placates the beast with the nectar of Aeva’s cunt, and though it writhes beneath his skin just as Aeva writhes above him, it’s enough for now. His magic recedes; it had pricked at the corner of his eyes before, but he reins it back in in time for Aeva’s knees to go weak. Her back slides against the door as his tongue reaches inside her, mumbling curses in Low Drow.

When was the last time he tasted something so sweet?

His cock strains against his trousers as Aeva’s hand seeks purchase anywhere it can find it, but nowhere seems to satisfy. Halsin’s mouth never leaves her, but he peers up at Aeva as one of his hands finds the crook of her knee. “Yes,” she says, breathless, and Halsin lifts one of her legs up onto his shoulder and then the other. Aeva wavers, adjusting to the weightlessness, but she’s quick to find her balance. Her thighs press against his ears, warm against his face as her cunt is in his mouth, wet and dripping. Arousal drips down his chin, her slick mixed with his saliva, and when he pulls his mouth away, Aeva whines.

Halsin’s never seen her beg for anything.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads.

Her hair’s askew and her face and chest are both dark with rushes of blood. Halsin leans her into the door, a hand on her ass and the other brushing against her clit. “Will you come for me, little fox?”

“A thousand times, Halsin,” she says breathlessly, though she seems to be trying valiantly not to fall entirely apart. The circles he rubs into her clit are slow and deliberate. “I’ll come for you a thousand times.”

The mess he’s made of her cunt makes two fingers possible, if a tight fit. It takes a moment to find the spot he’s looking for, but there’s no doubt that he does. Aeva’s back arches, head tilting into the door even before his mouth finds her clit once more. “More,” she says, fighting to stay her measured self even as she whimpers, close to release.

Halsin’s mouth slides from her clit with a popping sound. “Two seems to be plenty,” he says, not unkindly, but Aeva stares down at him.

“Your cock is going to be bigger than two of your fingers,” she says. “And I plan to take that, too.”

The bear roars, and Halsin feels a little more than unmade at the thought himself. A third finger joins the first two and her walls stretch to accommodate, tight and warm. He seeks the same spot again, and when he finds it, Halsin’s fingers curl in time with his lips sealing tight around her clit. More vulgarity spills from Aeva’s lips, in Common, Low Drow, and Undercommon, too. Her hands are at Halsin’s ears, holding his face close even as her thighs do the same.

When Aeva comes, she shatters. It’s the loudest that Halsin’s ever heard her be. Her body convulses and she pulls at his hair without mercy; his cock throbs at the sensation. The position isn’t one that makes it easy for her to move, but she tries to fuck herself against his hand as best she can anyway, and when at last she comes down and pushes his face away, she slides off his shoulders and into his arms. He doesn’t let her feet touch the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist instead. Aeva stares at him but complies, back to her hard-to-read self even in these moments immediately after bliss.

“Good?” he asks, standing and walking toward the bed.

Aeva nods, licking her lips. “Yes. I—” She stops, sucking in the insides of her cheeks.

“What?”

“I knew it could be good, but I didn’t understand.”

He’d thought as much.

Halsin lays her on the bed, flat on her back, and undresses. She watches and says nothing, but his mind races with what she said before.

“Your cock is going to be bigger than two of your fingers.”

All too true. Drow are small. Aeva’s only half-drow, but it’s no less a fact. She’s small. And Halsin is… not.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says.

Aeva smiles. It’s barely there, a ghost of a thing, but she smiles.

And when his cock springs free, her eyes widen. It’s only for a moment, but Halsin notices, and he says, “We don’t have to.”

Aeva nods. “I want to.”

“If—”

“I was right, though,” she muses. “About the two fingers.”

Halsin blinks.

“Was that a joke?” he asks.

Aeva blinks back.

“I apologize. Was it in poor taste? I’m not—”

When Halsin rests atop her, elbow propping him up on the bed, he interrupts her with a kiss. His tongue drags across her lips, and she makes a needy sound, hips bucking up, seeking his. When Halsin lowers himself, his cock between her thighs, he pulls away from the kiss. “I don’t know that I’ve heard you make a joke before.”

The length of him brushes against her clit, and she shivers. “Levity doesn’t come easily to me,” she says. “The chances I had for it were few.”

It’s wet between her legs. The self-restraint it takes not to lose himself is immense, and he must wear it on his face. “Nothing you do to me could be worse than what’s been done before,” Aeva says. Her words assuage neither beast nor man. Halsin’s arms quiver and the bear rages.

And he’s weak. He’s always been weak, borne on the currents of the world around him, never able to affect change in any way that matters.

“Care, little fox…” he manages, but Aeva only blinks back, face as unreadable as ever.

“You wanted me to have a soft touch, and you gave it. If the bear seeks release and it’s only on my account you hold out, then let it free.”

He didn’t name the bear. Aeva came to the conclusion herself, and he isn’t sure how. Aeva’s fingers tease the hair on his stomach. Halsin isn’t even sure she can take him. A few inches, yes, perhaps two-thirds of his cock, but the whole thing?

She’s so small.

“The bear wants to…” Halsin grits his teeth, cock sliding between slick folds. His hips move of their own accord Aeva exhales in bliss and desire; he shouldn’t be entertaining the idea at all. “The bear wants to fill you until your stomach is swollen with a litter of cubs. “

Aeva doesn’t flinch at his admission. The head of him brushes against her entrance. His nails are all but claws in the mattress.

“The bear can try.”

Halsin wants to ask what she means.

The bear has other ideas.

“I won’t break,” Aeva says. She doesn’t understand— “I trusted you,” she says. “I’m trusting you. That doesn’t come easily to me. Trust me back.”

“You don’t know what you’re agreeing to,” he says, but the bear’s already won. He’s only delaying the inevitable.

“I’ve had few choices in my life. I make this one willingly,” Aeva says, her voice barely a whisper. She pulls his head low until their lips are almost touching, her hands in his hair. “Breed me, Archdruid. Make me fat with child.”

Aeva pulls the magic from him with her words. It doesn’t pulse; it pours. He’ll stay an elf in form (mostly), but the energy is a primal thing. What she said before (“The bear can try”) is irrelevant. There’s a pliant, willing, beautiful woman underneath him, and there’s no doubt in Halsin’s mind that he could break her if he tried, but neither he nor the bear wants that.

This time when Halsin kisses her, their teeth clatter together with the force of it. When he pulls away, he flips her with ease, and Aeva settles onto her hands and knees instinctively. Her slit drips before him, and Halsin’s muscles ripple and his cock swells as it presses against her entrance.

Halsin’s chest heaves. Aeva moves her knees, adjusting, and when she does, her ass rocks side to side. His mouth goes dry. “I will… try to be gentle,” he manages.

Aeva looks back at him over her shoulder. “It would be nice at the start, if possible. Once I manage to take it, do what you like.”

He guides his cock to her cunt and pauses, inhaling deeply, fighting the urge to see just how much she can take in just one stroke. It’s Aeva who pushes back onto him, cunt spreading to take him. She stretches around his cock with her hand between her legs, an obscene sight, folds splitting as she sinks back. Aeva pants. Halsin says, “You are dangerous.”

Aeva doesn’t answer. She only moves forward and back again as Halsin watches, his cock sliding a fraction of an inch deeper inside her each time. He’s managed to hold himself in check, but Aeva doesn’t flinch as his hand ghosts along the roundest part of her ass. Her arousal glistens along him, and the deliberate way she rocks back and forth is maddening, but after what feels like an eternity—

Her ass meets his hips, his cock fully nestled inside her. Aeva’s breath comes in ragged gulps. “Fuck.”

Neither of them move for a moment. If Halsin so much as twitches, he might lose control. And Aeva asks, “Has the bear lost his nerve? I would think that’s exactly where he’d like to be, if breeding me is his aim.”

Aeva leans forward a final time and snaps her hips backward.

He doesn’t understand her.

He doesn’t need to.

It’s out of his hands.

Halsin doesn’t know if the roar he lets loose is metaphorical or real. His claws dig into her waist and her hip, and the cry Aeva lets out is borne of lust, not fear. Halsin can’t see as much of her as he’d like in this position, but it has its perks. Her ass bounces against him, tight and slim like the rest of her, and the thought of it being his spend that changes her has his grip tightening. Her pert chest and her flat stomach will both swell and the children she bears will be his. His claws leave red marks everywhere he touches, graceless, but Aeva only moans, slick with sweat and cum and pleasure as he thrusts into her time and time again.

It’s not deep enough. It will never be deep enough. When he presses himself against her back and pushes as far as her body will take him, Aeva falls face-first into the mattress. Halsin buries his face in her neck, rutting into her like the animal that she’s dragged out of him. The scent of her is overwhelming, and Halsin thinks he could stay here forever, but—

It’s been centuries since Halsin’s indulged the bear (or himself) this way. He was never going to last, but he doesn’t have to. Aeva’s just as pent up as he is even after her earlier orgasm. Her hand’s been working as frantically at her clit as his hips have been at her cunt. Her cervix is there — he pounds against it — but she takes each thrust without complaint. She’d meant what she said about letting the bear breed her, and when Aeva’s knees go weak and her walls squeeze around him, intent on drawing out every drop of cum from him they can. Aeva cries out into the mattress as she climaxes, and when she falls apart on his cock, he plunges into her once more, twice more, a third time.

Halsin spills himself into her with a grunt more beast than man. He fucks her as full as he can manage, but it’s too much and Aeva’s too small. Even before he leaves her cunt, his spend leaks from her. Aeva tilts her hips upward as much as she can manage in this position, and he groans into her neck at the movement.

The bear wants to keep her. Whoever and whatever else she has is her business. But again, the bear and Halsin are in agreement. His heart doesn’t stir lightly, but it does stir now.

His hands trail down along her sides as Halsin sits back on his heels, finally pulling his still-leaking cock from her. Cum drips down her thighs and a sheen of sweat covers her, and Aeva makes no move to get into a more comfortable position. She’s still until Halsin grabs her around the waist and pulls her down onto the bed next to him so they face one another. When he moves to pull her tight against his chest, she shrinks away.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t—” Aeva swallows hard.

“No explanation necessary,” he says, despite the hundred questions rattling in his chest. “I’m here if you change your mind.”

He expects her to roll over and go to sleep. Instead, she blinks at him. “You’re strange.”

He laughs. “Am I?”

Aeva nods. “I’m strange, too. I’m glad that I met you.”

She shuffles closer and presses another kiss to his lips, brief, chaste, soft before pulling away and falling asleep. He thinks she does, anyway, but without opening her eyes, she says, “I’ll be on top next time.”

When her chest rises and falls steadily, Halsin exhales another laugh. They have much to talk about, but yes. Strange. They both are.

[starry-bi-sky]

This is very inspired by @minnesota-fats post about Danny being Bruce Wayne's clone (which has been rotting in my brain for two days) but an au where danny isn't just Bruce Wayne's clone, but also not fully a ghost.

both ideas can be used separately honestly, the idea just came to me while thinking about the bruce wayne clone idea, and a lot of this idea is just "danny without his ghost powers. i might probably make a part two that delves into him being bruce wayne's clone.

Hear me out.

A Danny Fenton who has the ghost sense and the fangs and the pointed ears and the scary eyes and an increase ecto-essence, but does not have the ability to "go ghost". His accident occurred when he pressed the "on" button on the outside of the portal, and the button electrocuted him due to faulty wiring. He ends up miraculously surviving but not without some new additional abilities (and electricity-based trauma).

Since Danny no longer has a built-in alter ego with the invert wardrobe to match, he doesn't see the point to take ghosts back to the ghost zone. What the hell can he do anyways? All he has is a cosmetic add-in, a lower body-temperature with an impressive ability to hold his breath longer than a human realistically should, and a built-in ghost detector. Not very helpful if you ask him.

That is, up until he goes into the lab after his parents catch a relatively harmless ghost and sees them vivisecting it. He's horrified. He thought his parents were using hyperbole when he said they'd tear them apart molecule by molecule.

(Granted, he also believed that ghosts were unfeeling up until he saw this random ghost being absolutely terrified for its existence on the table.)

After an argument over his parents harming the ghost, Danny goes back up to his room and refuses to leave, not even for dinner. Later that night after his parents went to sleep, Danny steels his resolve and sneaks back down into the lab and releases the ghost back into the ghost zone.

This happens a handful of times, until, finally, frustrated, Danny tells the latest captured ghost to tell anyone inside that if they even think about coming through, he'll capture them and bring them back to the zone himself. It's for their own safety.

The ghost agrees, and goes back inside. Danny steals a "failed" thermos from his parents' stash of weapons. The next time that a ghost shows up, its the lunch lady from episode one. Danny manages to defeat her without being seen, but knows that if there's gonna be consistent daytime ghost attacks then he can't base his luck around fighting without witnesses.

So he fashions himself with a makeshift outfit. This really only consists of an old, nondescript hoodie and a plain black face mask. Its the best thing he can do at short notice, however. Later, for his nighttime ghost fighting, his outfit is only slightly better.

He considered using one of his parents' lab suits. But white sticks out at night and the material doesn't protect you from road burn. His outfit is pretty homemade, with knee and elbow pads under his clothes and multiple layers. A long sleeve shirt over a hoodie over a black denim vest he found on sale. He later on manages to make brass knuckles ghost-proof and manages to stitch them into his gloves. (he gets very good at sewing).

His favorite part of the entire outfit, is a Casey Jones-style full-face mask he found while thrifting. It allows him better breathability than the face mask he was using (calling Rule Of Cool law here), and he can use his scary eyes to make him look more intimidating. His gloves, his mask, and his thermos are the things he carries around with him constantly, and, later on, wears baggier clothing to hide the fact that he's wearing knee and elbow gear under his clothes.

Did I mention he has long hair? Danny has long hair (because GNC danny ftw, it goes past his shoulders) that he braids back. it's a bit sloppy but it keeps his hair out of his face well enough. He takes the fenton creep stick with him.

(He and Bruce have, ultimately, a more lean build than a bulky one. It helped Bruce with his Brucie Wayne persona big time when he had to look like a pretty skinny boy, he uses body language, optical illusion, and body armor to make himself look bulkier as batman)

He still goes by the name Phantom. He still has a bitter rivalry with his parents, who have no idea that its him. They think he's probably some other ghost with beef with the other ghosts (he still triggers their ghost sensors), and still want to capture him.

He doesn't talk around the living. He doesn't have any fancy voice changer and dropping his voice hurts and ultimately, he just uses ASL if he ever has to talk in front of people. The ghosts know his voice at night, but not during the day.

He hardly talks to the living. He avoids them like the plague actually. When he defeats a ghost and there's an audience, he barely sticks around to have a nice friendly chat. He tries to get away as soon as possible. He's paranoid over people finding out who he is. He doesn't have that ghost form to fall back on here.

Oh god this is getting so long, so i'll post another part soon.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 10

DARK AS HELL, SOMEONE IS BEING TORTURED IN THIS CHAPTER, WE ARE GETTING INTO MILITARY BEING BAD AND YOU BEING CONDITIONED TO JUSTIFY IT.

Moniker: Nikto Risk Level: High. Nikto is a permanent resident of the Kennel. Brief: Torture, blood, anal Safeword: Refer to first brief. Me, Ale and Kate are all on stand by. You’ve not met him yet, but we have Ghost ready to go as well if you safeword. This will be intense. I promise you the man Nikto will be using deserves everything that is coming to him - Price

You’d seen horrible things before, watched and listened to them over and over again to glean whatever intel from them you could. You had known years ago it was turning your brain dark, that people weren’t supposed to be exposed to so much violence. And honestly? You’d stopped asking if the people you were seeing deserved it. The military didn’t care.

You had never been in the room while it was happening. The smell was overwhelming, blood and viscera, the filth from the man on the table losing control of his facilities, the sour tang of sweat and fear and pain.

Nikto wore a mask and it somehow made it worse because he lacked any expression. No reaction at all to the screams he was eliciting. At least not on his face, his cock was certainly reacting, straining against his trousers.

Much like you had for any other scene you had witnessed in your time with the special forces, you said nothing. A commanding officer told you this was justified and you would not question that. If you went down that road there were only two outcomes, dishonorable discharge and a life as a person broken by the things they had done, or a fast track to somewhere like the Kennel and a life as a person turned insanely violent by the things they had done.

Like Nikto, the man emotionlessly carving up a writhing body on the steel table. He casually fished his cock out of his pants and started smacking the mans face with it before thrusting against the brutalised flesh to coat his shaft in blood.

You went to parade rest, hands clasped tightly behind your back. The position sent you into the place you needed to be to deal with this. You were special forces, you bore this so others didn’t, it was for the greater good, this was dirty work but the world was kept clean. The motherfucker deserved it. You thought of all the destruction you had seen and told yourself it was his fault. The broken bodies, the maimed friends, his fault.

Nikto crooked a gloved, bloody finger at you to come. You walked across the room, sparing a glower towards the man on the table. His fault. Every bad thing was his fault. He deserved it.

You were grabbed and pushed unceremoniously over the table, your cheek pressed against the bloodied stomach. Nikto growled in Russian, you didn’t understand enough to pick up what he was saying.

There was no romance or play about this. He shoved your trousers down enough so he could start fingering your ass. It was still tender from Gaz, but you were in soldier mode so you just focused on breathing through it as the lubrication from the blood made the slide easier.

He barely let you adjust before he was jamming his cock inside and fucking you. Steady, clinical. You felt the blood smearing from the flesh beneath you onto your face as you were sawed back and forward from the force of his hard thrusts. It didn’t feel as bad as it had the first time, but then nothing did when you were in this mindset. If anything it felt good and you didn’t ask permission to chase that with a hand on your clit. It felt good because taking pleasure was spiting the man gurgling blood and whining like a bitch beneath you.

His fault.

It only lasted a few minutes. You came and Nikto didn’t really care, just kept pounding steadily until he was ready. You stayed right where you were when he pulled out and painted ropes of cum on the man beneath you’s face.

The man thrashed violently, apparently this being the thing he objected to the most even as half of his digits were gone and his insides were barely staying inside.

You weren’t even really sure what was going on because the next thing you knew you were clean, in PJs and being gently held and rocked by Price. You were sobbing, agonised wails that must have been going on for some time.

“Shh it’s ok sweetheart, won’t happen again.”

As your cries shuddered to a shaky stop and you felt yourself drift off to sleep you couldn’t help but think that so many people in your line of work said that. Won’t happen again. It was always a lie.

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God, Chapter 16: The Endless Storm

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: 18+, spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence, angst, mentions of death and war

Full chapter is on AO3

Light sears through Aemond’s skull like a fire. It hurts, another sensation of pain and what difference does it make to him? Half of his body is wrapped in bandages, his chest, his shoulder, his sword arm kept in a sling. Discomfort has been the one truth of his life for days, weeks, moons. He welcomes it.

He blinks his one eye open, his vision obscured from the days he has spent in darkness. The air is cold and thick with grey mist, he feels the weight of it as he breathes. He listens for the sharpening of steel, the sounds of armour and horses, the sounds of soldiers, but Harrenhal is silent.

A guard has him by his left arm, tightening his grip wherever the Prince dares to fumble his steps. Not long ago his every movement was made with intention and pride; he would have taken a man’s life for handling him like a beast.

They walk through the courtyard where he had the Strongs on their knees, through the castle gates, then a little away from the road across uneven ground towards the lake. The shape of two dragons await them through the mist settling around the God’s Eye. One is far larger than the other, with bronze and brown scales, one of the wild dragons. His rider sits atop the saddle, a common girl, watching him with her hands on the reins. Aemond wonders if he tried to run, or tried to take the guard’s sword, would she bathe him in dragonfire? 

The colour of Grey Ghost’s body fades into the fog, but his yellow eyes are piercing and cut right through it, the slim slit of his pupils trained directly on Aemond. It unnerves him to his core. At the dragon’s head stands his rider. Luke strokes her hand over his snout. She looks painfully familiar in her riding leathers and her hair braided away from her face. She wears a red skirt and a red cloak, not dissimilar to the one she wore when she walked into the Round Hall at Storm’s End, the cloak he took from the shore of Shipbreaker Bay while a storm raged around him, the cloak he left in his chambers in the Red Keep.

Would it still be there now? Would Rhaneyra have had his belongings burned? Would she have destroyed any remnants of the family she never wished to claim? Not that Luke’s cloak was his to keep, and yet he could not part from it once he had found it.

The guard gives Aemond a slight shove forwards but he holds his balance.

Luke turns to face him, her expression agonisingly passive. “I will mount the dragon and you will follow,” she says. Her voice sits in her chest rather than her throat.

At first he does not move. The guard unsheathes his sword. The rider of Sheepstealer glares at him. Aemond finds it in himself to huff a laugh.

“Will you have difficulty following my instructions, uncle?” Luke says.

He feels the corner of his mouth quirk, content to toy with his life because what else can he possibly lose? “What makes you think I will not seize this opportunity to put a knife in you?” he says.

“Do you have a knife?”

His eye trails down her waist, to her belt and a golden hilt concealed in a sheath. “You have one.”

“I do,” she says, pulling on her riding gloves, “but I would advise against trying to kill me just yet. Grey Ghost will not take kindly to you.”

Her dragon huffs a cloud of smoke through his nostrils, his yellow eyes narrowing. It’s a different kind of beast to the one she rode as a child. Arrax grew alongside her, he would coo and nudge at her with his snout. Grey Ghost has scars in his flesh, sharp and uneven teeth, the look of a dragon that has had to hunt and truly fend for itself.

He watches her as she mounts the dragon.

He used to watch the others, Jace, Aegon, Helaena, Daeron in the Dragon Pit, when they’d be brimming with excitement to fly. Arrax was small, but Luke was a small thing herself, hauling herself onto the back of her mount with pure determination. She couldn’t stand it when Jace and Aegon would go darting off into the sky without her.

When she settles in the saddle she looks down at him. He watches her chest as she breathes deeply. Is she nervous? Is she frightened of what he might do? Or merely eager to return to her Queen with a prisoner in tow? 

She makes an expression of disgust, bites her lip and raises her eyes to look ahead. 

Aemond obeys her to spite her. His limbs are weaker than he’d expected them to be. Sharp pains shoot through his chest as he makes the climb, manoeuvring himself with only one useful arm. The scar over his eye starts to sting again and he digs his teeth into the flesh inside his mouth. He will not appear weak to her.

Having reached the saddle, he swings his leg over the dragon’s back, placing his hands on Luke’s waist to steady himself. He feels how she flinches, though he’s barely touched her.

Perhaps she does fear him. The thought tugs on the corner of his mouth.

[uraniumwriting]

micro story prompts: 21 and/or 39? :3c

Send me a number/word and I'll write a little something with the word or phrase

My ears rang. My head pounded. My sight was obscured by a thick cloud of dust which seemed to go on forever. The same accursed dust that quickly found its way into my lungs, making it difficult to get a single breath in.

I blindly reached out my arms and hoped I would bump into something or someone to get a better grip on my surroundings.

Unfortunately, though, the first solid contact I made was when someone who I couldn’t see picked me up and began to carry me over their shoulder.

My whole body tensed, and while I opened my mouth to scream, it just dissolved into an intense coughing fit from the dust. I knew that no one I had come to the factory could pick me up so easily, but with my luck, if I did choose to resist, I would attack a member of the city guard.

Before long, though, the air cleared. My lungs still hurt from the dust, but I could at least see. The person carrying me wore the uniform of the factory workers, and when they put me down, I recognized the face of Kyiera.

“You all right?” Kyiera kneeled down next to me and pulled off the goggles she wore.

“I’m fine,” I sputtered out. “The others, are they—”

It was then that I noticed what was left of the factory. The building, or what was left of it, laid in a collapsed heap, and it still spewed smoke and dust.

In the small clear area where I sat, some of the other factory workers sat around, as dazed as I felt. But none of my friends were anywhere to be seen.

“I don’t know,” Kyiera pushed some of my hair out of my face. “We’re trying, but, I don’t know.”

Tears threatened to escape my eyes, but I did everything possible to keep it in.

The prophecy had claimed that the end of the world was near. I knew the prophecy was bullshit, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel it truly was the end of my world.

If my friends were dead, I would have to start over once again. Sitting in that clearing, with each breath needing all of my energy, I knew that would be impossible.

[schlock-luster-video]

Remembering film icon Patrick Swayze on the anniversary of his death.

R.I.P. (1952 - 2009)

[lisbetadair]

A Ghost Story

Ghost is worried, having once read Alias Grace, about Johnny dying halfway through the Channel Tunnel.

It's a long way from the exit, it's dark and what if he can't find his way out? He knows he's being stupid, but the idea gnaws at him, until finally, on the 21st of November, the following year, he gets in his car and boards the Le Shuttle at the right time, so that when the announcement for the minute silence comes over the tannoy, he be will deep within the bedrock beneath the water, about seventeen miles in.

There's no sound except the rushing echo of the wheels when he closes his eyes, and he feels really stupid and a bit weird, and now he thinks about it, a bit claustrophobic and just when he's about to sit up and open his eyes, he hears the car door open, the rustle of fabric, the suspension rocking on its wheels with unexpected weight and a familiar smell he'd almost forgotten.

He doesn't dare open his eyes until the train slows and pulls into the terminal at Folkstone, and when he does, they're locked on the road ahead, too afraid to glance towards the shape at the edge of his peripheral vision until he can pull over and with a trembling hand, turn off the engine.

Just at the edge of his hearing, barely more than a whisper a voice he knows says "Thanks for the lift, Lt.".

He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and turns to look in the passenger seat.

There's no one there.

[jackiequick]

What If Bucky Barnes saved a life that day? | MARVEL Fanfic

Pairing: Jason Grey Underwood & James ‘Bucky’ Barnes

Setting: Flashback to December 16, 1991

Summary: It was a old winter night when a crash happened that would swirl the weekend for a world wind, as both eyes met in the chaos of it all. Becoming a interesting sight of secretive events. An old memory coming back to life?

Characters mentioned: Howard Stark, Maira Stark, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Elizabeth Stark, Daniel Sousa and Peggy Carter

Marvel Au fanfic

Warning: Angsty fic with some fluff

———

Gravel crunches under the tires of the Rolls Royce as it trundles up the country road. The Winter Soldier peers through the scope and adjusts his grip, his finger ghosting over the trigger. He's been in position for hours, has watched his targets for over two weeks before this. He knows their routine.

Inside the car sat Howard driving as Maria chatted on the phone with Peggy and Jason trying to figure out a way to nap quietly. Tony was at home he refused to go and stay with his godmother Peggy Carter instead.

This is the first day of a long weekend in the Stark Family country estate. They were meant to meet some people there in the upcoming weeks.

But no one will think to look for them until at least Monday.

The Soldier takes careful aim. If he misses, he will have to eliminate his targets individually. This is much cleaner.

He fires.

With the silencer, the shot is noiseless, but the blown tire is not.

The expensive Rolls Royce had been on the final turn before a wide country driveway. It skids onto the soft shoulder, and flips on its side to slide down a steep ravine. Having the family gasping for air, shielding themselves for comfort and deeply coughing as the car takes a spinal shock.

Screaming and yelling were silence soon enough. Groans can be heard from Jason squeezing his eyes shut as a trickle of blood ran down his forehead and a few shards of glass scarred around him, his pain increased. He felt dizzy, nasty feeling twirling in his stomach and his airways feeling like they shut down for a moment.

Snapping in and out of consciousness at whimpering and soft yelling he recognized. However you could’ve sworn he was dead by his chest not puffing.

Carefully, the Soldier packs away his rifle and makes his way down the slope, dragging piles of dry brush behind him. No one will see the wreckage from the roadway.

The Soldier sees that the woman has been ejected from her seat. Maria Stark. She is dead. He mentally crosses her off his list.

Ripping away the car door from its hinges, he peers inside. Howard Stark trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth waking up in soft mumbling, alerting the others in the car.

Howard Stark opens his eyes, glances over an somewhat conscious Jason as he looks at the Soldier. There is no anger or fear in his gaze -- but something else. Something that gives the Soldier pause. This is not an expression he has seen from his targets before.

Jason’s eyes flickering open falling onto the Howard, before looking at The Solider in pain, trying to search for his gun under his seat.

He locked eyes with the Solider seeing right into his soul. His steel blue eyes deep in an unknown word he can’t trace. The pain behind the lifeless face he gave, pausing at their actions. He doesn’t pull his gun on him, one bit. It was unspoken line between both parties.

"Bucky," Howard muttered. His hands fumbling weakly at his seatbelt, but his gaze is unfocused and vague. Dying, Jason knows it. But he hears his friend say, "Don’t hurt my son if he’s next…”

The word rattles around in the Soldier's head for a few moments without purchase. Jason waits for him to make a move, trying to figure out what happened that his last breath hasn’t come. But nothing.

Howard however takes a battling breath, then his shoulders lower. He dies with his eyes half open.

His attention snaps back at his words, knowing he meant every word as Jason weakly kicked open the door. The Solider finished the job for him tugging him out of the car, scooping up the blondes hand in his. Both men locked eyes once again, confused about the quick actions.

He could snap his neck, pull a gun on him or something.

In the Soldier's pocket is a lighter -- the authorities will assume the fire sparked from the car crash and caught dry brush. The flames will cleanse all evidence he was here.

Bucky... don’t hurt my son if he’s next..

Finish the assignment, the Soldier thinks. However a part of himself couldn’t murder the blonde. He didn’t have it in him to do it. None of them would know. He wondered why the man didn’t say a word to him yet, just staring at him a glint of trouble in his eyes as he felt his hand.

Jason just he recognizes those blue eyes, allowing the man to grab his bicep now as the other was occupied by a handheld gun trying to comprehend why he wasn’t dead yet. Then it hit him, his target included him in the flesh with the dog tags around his neck or at least his wristwatch, for extra evidence of his job being completed.

His eyes wet as all he could do was follow the instructions the Solider—Bucky—gave him. Then he turns and walks into the forest with him. The Solider’s work is not complete. He will be expected to end him.

It's only then he realizes he doesn't want to. His memories felt like they were split in two when they reached a hotel. Jason told him before entering that they will need to straighten up they’re hair and clothes, coming up with a cover story to tell the recipients. Bucky refused to comment on the request but eventually gave in.

An odd couple who needed to stay the night and thankfully she brought it.

Once entering the hotel room, Bucky finally let go of his bicep not realizing he might’ve left a bruised on the blonde. The room was somewhat cozy with beds, the lights were deemed reasonable, tiny kitchen, table with chairs and a bathroom. His eyes flicker titled his heads getting a better look at the man who sat down in one of the chairs.

It rattled Bucky’s brain at the moment seeing him again in full lighting, having not seen him in the longest time. He hasn’t aged a day! It pained him as he watched his movements, trying to remember the night they met. It came in patches across the entire trip here. The memories.

That night and the morning afterwards. It stunning. His smile and glimpse of joy in his eyes.

Everyone dressed in their finest whites and browns laughing teasing one another across the room. But Bucky’s eyes stayed that weekend on the blonde man chuckling with his buddies sharing a beer. With Howard Stark.

His pals were having fun. So, all he wanted was some alone time with the man, ready to enjoy himself and he did.

His voice brought him back to the present day.

“You can take a seat, you know? Get comfortable. I’m not your handler or anything. You took me as your hostage tonight. And for what, Bucky?” He said, his tone was calming but slightly bruised feelings. Tired and hurt.

“Okay..” Bucky replies softly taking a seat, unzipping his suit a bit to allow himself to breathe, “…my mission seems to not be complete. I was expecting to end everyone in that car.”

“So why didn’t you? For the last half hour I have been trying to comprehend why you did pull the gun on me? We were in the forest, you could’ve done it..”

“Because I couldn’t. The look in both of your eyes…I didn’t’ want to. Why didn’t you defend yourself, hmm? The whole time you were silent.”

“I couldn’t defend myself assuming your actions, so I waited for you to make your decision. Now your keeping me safe, why?”

“I don’t know..”

“Yes you do. You don’t remember right? But when my—Howard said your name…you paused. I saw a look in your eyes, you regret it. You heard what he said about his son and you paused. Then looked at me.”

They locked eyes again. Jason hitched a breath, his eyes scanning every feature his face. The look of confused as if he wanted to admit something but couldn’t due to his orders. But he didn’t need to know why he murdered, the only other man to look at with such kindness and the women who took him into her heart with so much love.

The dead know everything. He would just have to accept that one day, but that didn’t mean he decided to not get a swing at Bucky for his actions. He just needed some satisfaction, some answer. By the second swing to the face, his body crumbled in pain from accident. The brunette guided him back to his seat holding his wrist.

He glared feeling weak as he looked up at Bucky again. Some urgency in his face to tell him. Both men knew it. It was silent. It was only then Bucky’s mouth opened and shut, hesitate to say it even though both men knew it all too well. He remembers all of it.

~~~~~

Hours came and went. Jason went on to take a shower after Bucky did. It was a kind offer. It was his only time to actually think.

He was flabbergasted at the sight standing underneath the water that fit his face. In that room held the face of the man he didn’t expect to see. He remember it all too well.

That weekend after that mission, he just met Howard thinking he would never see that man ever again in his life. But he was very wrong! Jason had tears in his eyes missing him so badly, the smell of his cologne still in his nose.

He remembered Howard and him being brought up to a bar. The 107th and 106th gang was there. He was talking with his buddies, along with Howard who was more interested in the bartender. She was hot.

But his eyes fell onto the one of prettiest brunette around. Sergeant Barnes.

Hell he would’ve dated him.

Honestly Jason always had a thing for brunettes since he had Howard and Violet but he loved Angie more than his life itself. As well as his darling Maria, he loved her so much.

Damn the respect people, including himself had for that man.

He remembered both men chatting afterwards enjoying each other’s company. Laughing and teasing one another every once in a while. He looked at him with such kindness and respect. It felt good.

Then he remembered the words that kickstarted the rest of the night and morning after.

Hey, Barnes stole a jeep! Yelled Howard so loudly half of bar heard it.

Next thing he remembered was all three of them riding across the streets, dropping the genius off once he saw the bartender from earlier clocked out, leading him and Barnes alone. The two rode off into the night, passing through street lights and stores glancing over at each other every so often. It felt like a breath of fresh air, laughing the whole time.

They talked about life after the way, family they were waiting for them, and hopefully new opportunities to take upon once it all over. Seeing each other again and heading to vacation for a while. He asked Bucky if he had a lady waiting for him at home and his response was a simple no. Jason remembered his eyes perk up hearing that teasing him on any lady would love to have him.

He remembered the jeep coming to a stop near a park bench on a high hill. Nobody around, just pure sliver dollar silence as the cloudy skies cleared up to reveal the moon and stars. The smell of the flowers and air as he followed the brunette up the hill, sliding over to seat next to him at the benchmark and nice autumn breeze that blew past them.

The way Bucky teased him asking if he had a chance with a girl. His reply was a honest, ‘No, i don’t know if i will settle anytime soon.’

‘Why not?’ Was his response with a smile.

‘I feel like I forgot what normal is meant to be.’

‘I get that. I feel like I didn’t really know how to live before.’

‘Hmm. Maybe, we shouldn’t settle for normal.’

The next morning. It was a sight to see. The sun was coming up, the orange light turned the field into liquid gold shining down on both men. Bucky’s head rested on his shoulder as his hand placed on his shoulder snoring softy. His own head nuzzled against the brunette humming in his sleep, waking up as the sun hit his eyes.

Jason smiled at the memories.

Since it was weekend full with sightseeing, training with his pal and meeting new ones. Sneaking off with Bucky and Howard to the stores then heading off to the restaurants for a quick bite. It was a delightful surprise how comfortable he felt about Barnes, the sweet warm in his eyes and the charming smile that he portrayed everywhere they went.

———

But now in that very room sat the brunette with longer hair, deep blue eyes and a body language that said an unknown things. He barley cracked smiled however he remembered it all. The memories that were made and he actions he took.

To anyone who knew Bucky Barnes, would say he was a bit of a distant distraction from the normal life. He dated plenty of men and women in his time. Always had a thing for people with a respectable background. Something he would come to apparently appreciate in the future.

His mind flew back to that weekend with Underwood. The laughter they shared, the drinks, the running from the bar onto the jeep that night and the hopes to see one another again.

Bucky even gave the man his number and a cheeky wink before he took off to return fight the war.

But he didn’t get the chance to call him. Or even received a phone call since he fell off that train…

The last thing he remembered before waking up to that laboratory full of scientists was dreaming about that weekend. That smile and laughter that escaped Jason’s lips. The grin he gave everyone and the wink he returned to the night.

God! If he wasn’t in this situation, he would run over to the blonde and tell him everything he knew.

But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He spared his heart by letting him live.

Bucky Barnes cared way too much to murder the man who gave him, a lifetime of memories.

He felt stupid.

But he shouldn’t. He deserved to smile. To see the man he cared for again.

“Bucky..?” Asked the blonde, coming out of the shower with wet hair and a white t-shirt giving him, a gentle smile.

“Hmm.” He responded, sucking a breath flickering his eyesight towards him.

“What’s going on that pretty little head of yours? You can tell me..”

“I um..you won’t like what you hear…i can’t..sorry.”

“I can tell enough. Your working for the other side against your will..you’ve been manipulated by them. I don’t know why you killed my..doesn’t matter.”

“…did you love ‘em?”

“Yeah..with all my heart..”

“I’m sorry..I’m so sorry.”

Bucky stood up, he wanted to run. He tried to escape the room, his hand was on doorknob as his voice hitched. He was tired. Annoyed. Sad. Hurt. He looked over his shoulder to look back at the blonde.

The kindness in his eyes. He paused, letting go on the handle as he turned around to face the man. His head dropped in sorrow, facing the floor as he felt light fingertips crawl up his chin, lifting his head to meet the green eyes. Bucky wouldn’t admit it but he missed the starving touch of someone’s warmth against his cold face.

That comforting gaze that would soften his cheeks.

His blue eyes met the green eyes once again. He wanted to let his shoulders fall but he feared it would show weakness. He wanted to let out a sob, but he feared he would let his guard down. But he wasn’t with anyone who would hurt him.

He hoped that Jason wouldn’t try to hurt him, yeah sure he killed his friend however, he could see something else in his face. Sorrow and compassion. Comfort. He was in a vulnerable position.

They both were.

Jason didn’t think he would admit the words that slipped his lips but they did.

“I’m not gonna hurt..i can’t blame you for what you did. It wasn’t your fault. You hear me Bucky? It wasn’t your fault...i just missed your voice..i wish i gotten your call..” The blonde admitted with a soft gaze.

He needed to hear those words.

The brunette shoulders finally fell as his guard fell down, tears slowly shaking down his cheeks. He wouldn’t expect forgiveness for what he did, but he gotten caught up in a tingled mess. Bucky’s head fell onto Jason’s shoulder as the blonde run a hand across his back, whispering softly to his ear that he wasn’t his fault.

Never was his fault. It was a guilt they would be have to carryover until the end of time.

He’s not the villain here, he’s the victim of a crime scene. He didn’t want to do it, but he knew the whole mission had to be done.

And now, here he stood in the arms of the man who showed him some kind of love. Compassion. Reassuring words. Kindness towards him after all the mistakes he did.

He wasn’t in stupid Russia. He was in the arms of someone who treated him like a human. Not a weapon to be experienced with.

“I missed you so many times…” Jason told him, his feelings were hurt but his heart was beating quickly for the brunette in front of him.

Feeling that reached up to the surface again after years of forgetting that heartbreak. It was a weakness inside him, when he looked at someone like Bucky Barnes.

Love? Was it some kind of love? Lust?

Possibly. It was a single weekend they both shared but it felt good. Freeing from the issues the world has been facing. A war.

Bucky eyes were pooled as a sob reckoned his body, he crumbled into Jason’s arms. He remembers the warmth and kindness theses are showed him that late night.

All he wanted now, was to faced him and beg for the blonde to help him with the hidden wound he tried to patch up eariler but failed to do so. However he knew he didn’t need to beg for help, he was already getting it. He was allowed to let his guard down for once in a long time.

It felt good, real good.

“J..JJ..I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry for what I did.” Bucky admitted with a chocked sob, “I didn’t expect to see you again after all theses years..and I have to return back soon…but I don’t want to..”

“I know you don’t…I know you have to return but when you do, I want to know that you survived so long and I’m proud of you. You did the hard part and one day you will get a better break..” Jason told him, trying to find the words to express how he felt.

“When..?”

“I don’t know when or how you will get a chance to breathe again but you will Bucky, all I could hope is for you to be happy one day...and for now, I’m going to give you one.”

“Huh? JJ I can’t let you do that..I’m already in so much trouble soon..”

“Let me fix your wound..like I used to?”

“I’ll like that…uh, are you okay?”

“I will be..”

Jason gently guided Bucky to the edge of the bed, waiting for him remove his jacket so he saw the badly cleaned wound. He found a first aid kit and started to clean it correctly, with such ease and gentleness asking if it stings every so often. Bucky started to smile down at the blonde who cleaned his wounds. He noticed the cuts and bruises on his face and arms.

Bucky winced as he softly muttered, “Sorry…”

“Don’t be..I’ve been though worse.” Jason said with a soft smile.

“You got better at this..”

“Yeah well, with the plenty of injuries I kinda had to..”

“You’ve been injured before?”

“Fights and missions in my own line of business..”

“How are you still alive?”

“Same as you, my body is frozen in time. But that’s a story for another time…”

“…are you uh, married? Kids?”

“Oh? Um, no. I couldn’t find anyone who could deal with my burdens. I mean I loved and lost before but i wouldn’t want anyone to suffer a lie that isn’t theirs..”

“Do i wanna ask?”

“I think it’s best not to. I mean, I’m not asking for anything about your line of work or lifestyle. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“Where are you going after this?”

“I uh, don’t know yet..I need to keep the wounds on and build another cover story. But I’ll figure it out later..”

“And now?”

This time, Jason looked up with a soft smile once he finished cleaning and patching him up correctly, as he shrugged. His green eyes burden so much hurt, love and confusion that carried so much depth behind that. Bucky would’ve loved to take that away, anyone would have given him a chance to breath during this time.

He doesn’t know what he did to describe or even deserve this one thing from him.

But sure as hell he was grateful for it.

“Do you ever…wonder what life would’ve been like if none of this ever…uh..um, happened?” Bucky asked, sounding kinda stupid the way his words slurred, “.. I would’ve loved to hang out with our buddies a lot more and date around..”

“Well I would’ve been married, with a kid or two..we would’ve lived closed by to your house..” Jason said with a small smile taking a few pauses as he thought, “…maybe you and me would sneak off for a night at the bar..”

“…I would’ve married Dot..god I loved her..and you would’ve gotten Angie..that was her name, right? I remember her eyeing you a lot..”

“Yeah, Angie Martinelli..I loved her way before I knew she would’ve been friends with Peggy Carter..but times change.”

“You haven’t..”

“You can say that…”

“What about us? If I wasn’t Hydra…where d-did you work after the war?”

“Uh, the SSR..now it’s SHIELD..you would’ve loved it. Hell, I think you would’ve loved Elizabeth.”

A smile crept up Bucky’s lips at the reminder of Elizabeth Stark’s name.

She was smart, sweet as candy, gorgeous, a wildcard and a total badass in his eyes. He got flashes of her face and the moment they met after he was rescued by the others. She was one of the most beautiful and kindness ladies he ever met, greeting each other with so much respect.

She teased him about a dates and he gave her his number. As they were spending night just chatting on the phone at hotels and campsites available for calls. He remembered promising another date before the war ended.

But never did live up to that promise. He hoped she was alright.

Jason noticed the look on his face and gave him a gentle smile, “Hey..it’s alright. We all miss her.. and i know you did the best you could do with the time we had in the war..”

“I know..I know..sometimes I wish I didn’t fall into the woods and that I held onto that railing…but it wasn’t my intention for any of it..it never was. I had a clear goal that day and it got turned into something else…I’m sorry for everything..” Bucky admitted looking down for a moment.

“It wasn’t your fault, okay? None of us could’ve predicted any of this to happen to our lives..but we are surviving and that’s all we can do..”

“I can only imagine what you’ve seen and been though over all theses years..”

“Don’t worry about me..I can handle it…or so I hope I can….what else do you remember?”

“A lot of it..sometimes it comes in flashes..”

“Such as?”

“…this blonde haired man..tall..blue eyes..”

“Ohh..”

“There was a old knock off comic book, I saw it a few days ago…Captain America, I think it is was?”

“Yeah, a lot of countries and states still sell them…and? You remember anything..?”

“I um..I know him, I think i do? I know I do…who is he?..Rogers…”

“...he was your best friend, Bucky…Steve Rogers.”

The name rattled in Bucky’s brain for a few short minutes as he stayed silent. Searching his eyes waiting for a sign as he stayed biting his bottom lip, sniffling trying to remember.

He remembers it. The face, the name, and the sound of his voice.

His best friend til the end of the line…

Jason took out his wallet, rummaging though the brown leather until he pulled out a small picture. A tiny one of the night at the bar that a photographer grabbed. He handed it to Bucky, as his fingers crossed the old photograph as his eyesight got blurry. Fresh tears came rolling in.

“Steve.” The brunette muttered, as the flashes of memories came back better than ever, like someone clicked the undo button.

“You have this?” Bucky asked mumbling about the picture in his hand.

Jason nods, “I like to keep old photographs in my wallet..that one was supposed to be for Peggy, uh Carter, to keep..she wanted it framed.”

“He looks..i look..oh god Steve..how could i—? How could I forget his face of all people?”

“It’s not your fault. HYDRA..they did it. They don’t want you to remember of this, because they know something might happen..”

“…did they ever take you..?”

“They tried. Once. In the 40s, a lot of Russian men and women. They kidnapped me during a mission..they almost wiped my mind..i mean, they kinda did..”

“..you don’t remember a lot either?”

“Some memories came and went..just like you, the situation it feels a little fuzzy. But I’m okay. We’re both okay…do you remember anything about Steve?”

“I remember a lot..before and after the war when i fell, I remember the memories of him..”

Bucky had a look in his eyes as if he’s reliving a memory. He let out a light chuckle and sniffled, “..he’s a little punk. I told him to not do anything stupid…”

Jason just watched Bucky in that moment. He didn’t say a word. Just listen to him as he mumbled and muttered softly with a light smile at his memories. A look in his eyes seemed to return as he watch him.

Some lightning of gentle glee in the brunette’s eyes as he talked, running his fingers crossed his long brown hair and catching the other man’s eyes every now and then.

“..do you remember your full name..?” The blonde asked softly, after being silent for so long leaning against the bed.

“Mhmm…more or less..i don’t like it..” The brunette admitted, matching his soft tone.

“..James Barnes..I always liked Bucky better..”

“..i think i was a good friend, right? I was good enough that it became my nickname..?”

“Well, I remember you did say that Steve gave you that nickname when you were kids..so i think you were a great friend..”

“..and was i good to you?..am i good to you?”

“What do you think?”

“..i think i was good to you?..i hurt you though..i hurt a lot of people’s feelings..i know it..”

“It wasn’t you. I can’t blame you, for hurting me or those people..”

“..why are you so good..to me? The world has been cruel to me..”

The blonde gave him a small smile, tugging some hair out of his face for a second and let out of a breath before standing up. Jason knew why he was good to Bucky Barnes. The world is a cruel place fulled with cruel people and niceness isn’t something everyone gets. He should know.

In his eyes, the brunette deserves some kindness and attention after everything.

“The world is cruel and hard and if it sees any bit of light..it will crushes it. And you deserve a chance to feel cared for, not be seen as a weapon. Or an experiment..” Jason said with a soft gaze.

His words meant more than he lead on.

“It sounds like your talking from experience..” Bucky replies, fumbling with his sleeves.

“I sorta am. And how i seen it, your more than what they made you to be.”

“You know…your the only thing that makes sense right now to me..thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

———

The rest of the night went as follows. The silence of fallen snow along with the sound of plates clanging together then dropped into the small sink. They were able to get food and water from the hotel, and able to find some form of entertainment on TV.

Hell, they found some extra clothing left in a closet to borrow for some time.

Both of them stayed in comfortable silence, giving all smiles and having conversations.

It was late. Very late into the night when tiredness started to take fold. It was mostly Jason who was tired, trying to nurse a tiny headache meanwhile Bucky was just resting his head on a pillow.

“You should rest..” Bucky said softly, resting his head against his curled in arms.

“You first.” Jason replied with a soft tease in his voice, looking over his shoulder.

“Hilarious..at least take a nap.”

“I’m fine..”

“What’s wrong?”

“Should i be the one to ask you that?”

“Jason. What’s going on?”

“..how can i rest knowing what i know now..? I’m not mad about anything, just sad and tired..surprised.”

“Why?”

“It’s Christmas time, Bucky. I lost a lot my friend beforehand..my nephew hates his father..and some others are god knows where..”

“..i’m sorry. It’s my fault your gone..they’re gone.”

“No it’s not..our Christmas was already a messy one, before you showed up..no one really cares about the holiday too much anymore.”

“So i sorta saved your Christmas?”

“I guess you did.”

Both men let out a small chuckle at the last comment. It was the holiday season and here they are in the mist of it all, hiding out til morning or early afternoon. It wasn’t so bad, per say since they weren’t alone in the slightest bit but they would’ve liked it to be in better circumstances. Jason knew he wasn’t gonna enjoy this holiday season as much as he used to, and seeing Bucky was a surprise to say the least.

But a serious secret he would have to keep, like other things he kept secret from the world.

He knew he would have to return back home soon, change his whole identity once again and transfer any information onto new documents, like he did every December reach the end of a decade.

Bucky watched him, move across the room to reach forward and grab a few dusty books from the small group of shelves. It confused Bucky onto what he was he doing, seeing the man pick up a napkin and a pencil. He watched him scramble and scribble onto the napkin, crossing things down as he went. He justified his own actions against the questions he had, leaning over to get a closer look at the actions Jason silently took.

It made him wonder how much times he did this in pure silence as the TV played as background noise. His bets were 15 times a day, once every couple of months? He saw titles of different types being scripted on the napkin, but it wasn’t clear to him because of subtle it was written, where it look like a small riddle or rhyme in a children’s book.

He watched Jason pick up on the paused that he made, looking over at the TV Christmas movie that was set up on the screen.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Bucky muttered, turning the volume of the movie up to an 8.

“Hm?” Jason answered, resting book against the bedside table.

“The napkin. The books. You look like a mad man.”

“Hilarious, Barnes. I’m just tinkering with something, a new theme..”

“N-new theme?”

“Uh, new alias, I guess..”

“Walk me through this, for I can understand what you mean..because I think I get it.”

“You were sent to murder Mr and Mrs. Stark, not knowing they would have an extra passenger seated in the back, right?”

“HYDRA assumed that Stark would have a party or something following him to his drive but they didn’t confirm that being the case. They want anyone who was in the car, as witnesses or something to be dead..you were there.”

“Exactly. I was there, they didn’t even bother to confirm if Stark would have another passenger there like his son or his best friends. But they want evidence of the murder, you shot the sirens and cameras right?”

Bucky gave him a look as if he was stupid or something, of course he shot the cameras. Jason cleared his throat after that look he received, getting his answer. That was also when Bucky realized what he means and where he’s getting at. A new cover story, an alias and everything after tonight. It made him wonder how many times has he done this routine before.

Bucky sighed, “I see what you’re doing. I get it, I do and you won’t tell me anything about the alias to keep you safe..for HYDRA doesn’t ask me question, they might as well wipe my mind after this mission is over..”

“Hm, yeah. I’ve done this before and I’ll do it a million times over.” Jason repiled, handing the brunette an old school pin from his jacket marked with dried up blood and sighed, “This is mine.”

“What the hell is this?”

“Old school SSR pin, every single agent had one. Howard had copy in his jacket pocket that you didn’t take, they won’t know the difference between the signs of the pin, that’s your evidence.”

“Ja-I can’t take it. It’s yours..it’s evidence but still..”

“They might want evidence, Bucky. I won’t need it, not where I’m going. I have everything else at home..I’m glad Howard died with his pin in his pocket, it meant he created everything he could for the organization’s future and I would have to return back to SHIELD without mine..”

“You’re an idiot. They will know you don’t have yours, won’t they?”

He shook his head this time, he had that one covered. With all the years he lived, he made sure he had a copy of everything he could possibly own and could be used for travel tucked away in a small area at his house. Certain items stayed within that box and others were thrown away, to not stir any controversy over him. Jason wasn’t that stupid.

It made Bucky wonder however, if he didn’t murder Jason Underwood allegedly since it seemed like that name died for the public a long time ago, then what alias did he take down within that flamed car earlier? It was better he didn’t know that particular name until later, when asked. He just nodded instead with a soft sigh.

The rest of the night was spend a rather sleepless one, due to Bucky wondering and reloading his equipment, packing up everything needed to return back to work soon. Meanwhile Jason stayed sat on the bed, trying to rematch up his own wounds and rewrite in his mind the way to get back home without any deep questions. His cover was the easiest part, he was badly hurt which was truth and wasn’t thinking straight due to having an unlimited amount of time.

His mind ran across to only responsive person he knew who would grab him what was needed was Daniel Sousa, no questions asked, without Peggy on his back door for too long pondering what happened.

Bucky was half asleep, his head rested on the pillow with a soft smile watching the blonde chuckling softly to himself. Jason was resting in his bed with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling humming a soft tune as his eyes glanced over at the brunette who was staring right at him. His piercing blue eyes connected with his green ones in a shimmer of the bedroom lights. If it wasn’t for the night he wouldn’t have blushed more easily as he should have.

“What? Can’t find the confidence to look me in the eyes, Underwood?” Bucky said with a grin, chuckling as he let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. He might as well be flirting.

“Watch it, Barnes. Last person who looked at me that way, i ended up on a hill in France.” Jason added shaking his head, returning the effortlessly warm grin.

“Ohh who was the lucky one?”

“You know who. For someone who just finished a murder mission, you’re awfully flirty with me.”

“I didn’t want to do it..you know that. It’s just seeing you all relax..makes me forget about everything, you know?”

“I know..despite that whole look of yours, I’m actually digging the number you’re wearing..it’s stupid..I’m delusional.”

“If you’re delusional then I’m sure as gone.”

The two of them softly chuckled.

Jason softly smiled, “Hey.”

“Hm?” Bucky replied staring back at him again.

“You look..good.”

“I uh..I feel good.”

They shift in their respective positions, rolling over in bed to face the other person in a more comfortable manner. Despite all the stress and frustration that they feel about tonight, the moment they looked at each other’s faces, it all melted away.

Hydra, being on the run, Shield, keeping lies to themselves and begging for the truth not to come back to haunt them—all of that? It drifted over to the back of their minds like it was nothing.

Funny, how seeing someone who you missed so much time with can do to a person.

As if, it was written in stone by the gods above to somehow be interwoven in each other’s life one way or another. Jason and Bucky shouldn’t be allowed to share such a secretive moment together, tucked away in some hotel room after such a harsh encounter, yet here they are. Both cold and alone in the mist of the night, despite the central heating system wrapping around the ground, it seems like it would barely survive the hours up ahead.

“I missed you..” Jason admitted, as his voice lowered to a whisper but the brunette heard it.

Bucky was taken back by his words as he melted a little and returned to confession, “…so did I. I uh, I missed you a lot..”

“It was some silly night but I remember it, you know?”

“You remember the rest of the week? We sneaked off to every other store to find the best souvenir but ended up at a ice cream parlor instead.”

“Didn’t we share an ice cream together?”

“Cause they only had a couple scoops of Rocky Road left! You do remember.”

Bucky roared a laugh as Jason grinned.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t in his eyes, nor was the Agent at SHIELD in his own.

Just two old men, Jason Grey and James Buchanan.

There was a lot bending on their hands with the horrific incident that occurred in front of their eyes, yet neither side had the slightest intention to bring it up again for a long time. Yes, Jason could’ve shot him while stuck in this hotel and Bucky could’ve done the same at any point, but they didn’t dare to do so.

Jason knew if he did, HYDRA would’ve been after him in a matter of weeks and it would take longer for him to recover and return home to his life in California. Bucky knew if he killed him, it would’ve been another kill in his books that would haunt him forever and he made a silent promise to Howard Stark to not go after his son, in response he needed the blonde to return home alive.

Aside from the obvious mess brewing upon them and lack of self respect, if it was up to Jason and Bucky, the two would run away together. Be hidden away from the world until everything died down and they could start somewhere else, have a better chance to escape the chaos and breathe.

Yet, it wasn’t in the cards for either of them.

Instead both men ate whatever snacks found in the refrigerator and vending machines in the halls, watching the crappy old movies on television as they stayed chatting until dawn…

…the morning sunlight peaked through the shades of the hotel that very first alarm to strike upon the room, cracking open the notion that this wasn’t a dream, everything that happened last night was just fact.

The second clue to this alarming trend was that the other bed was emptied out, paneling over the bed closes to the door as glimpses of the blonde and brunette snoring calmly. Fully clothed, wearing some fabric they found in one of the closets comfortable enough to rest in. Bucky’s hand lay across Jason’s chest as the blonde hummed in his sleep with his fact turned toward the brunette’s direction.

Both curled underneath the blanket for warmth, breathing deeply into the air surrounding the room. The pillows were soft, the mattress kept itself polished and comfortable, as blankets were stacked one over the other beneath the pair.

The third striking feature of the set was the moment Bucky slowly turned to his left, letting out a soft groan as he fluttered his eyes open. He squeezed his eyes for a second to breathe in the silence and light that filled his senses, meeting the sleeping gaze of the blonde man.

He only felt a slight smile reaching his lips, as the memory of last night slowly wired in his brain, where the two were watching on a movie then nodding off on his bed unexpectedly, the temperature dropped as it resulted in finding a couple more blankets to keep warm. A part of him should shiver and regret this folding turn of events that took place.

But he couldn’t shake off the pressure of leaving him in the hotel alone after all of this is over. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t think twice and find a way to escape this situation, bringing the other with him for just a little while. Despite the high urge to do something about it, he couldn’t get himself to disappear from the bed and leave the key behind.

Instead he stayed, watching every tall tale feature the blonde had to offer his memories.

“..mornin’..” Mumbled Jason softly and ever so gently as his eyes stayed closed.

It almost startles Bucky at the sudden voice reaching his ears but nonetheless he smiles, “..m-morning.”

There was a peaceful silence that drafted between them.

“How did you sleep?” Asked the blonde, slowly opening his eyes turning to get a glimpse of the brunette.

And by god, James Barnes wasn’t allowed to look this well at the crack of dawn. His long dark locks curled around the edges of the pillow, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight and the cool metallic hand rested on his chest just as comfortably.

After a long second, Bucky responded, “I uh, I slept well actually..”

“I bet.” Jason joked, bringing a light smile to his face.

That caused a crash of light chuckle to fill the air.

The morning went pretty well. The two stayed in bed staring at the ceiling and stealing glances half of the time, enjoying the light banter. Eventually Bucky crawled out of bed and got himself in the shower, then soon went Jason’s turn to freshen up.

After a long period of time of declining interest in food, Jason’s stomach growls as he grabbed himself a sandwich from the hotel bar and a couple of drinks from the vending machine. He may or may not have taken a couple of bucks out of the brunette’s wallet that morning.

But he repaid him with a sandwich and a bottle of water, despite Bucky’s light glares he couldn’t be bothered to give a remark as hunger strikes. He just ate calmly and hummed a small smile to the man.

Sadly enough, the time they had spent together came to a close. Items were packed, stitches were wrapped and clothing was tucked away for any cleaning lady to come in later. Jason sat on the bed buckling his bootstraps and cuffing his socks into place, as his gaze turned to the man who was fumbling with his jacket once more. Bucky nodded, getting the last clasp secured on his jacket and swung his bag over his shoulder.

The two had a seamless idea to leave the hotel one after the other, in order to not stir up any wondering eyes or glimpses of controversy in the air. Yes, the thought was more than simple for anyone to follow along if they were looking too closely but neither was willing to take that chance.

Barnes was first to leave.

Neither said a word, just kept their gaze afar from another.

As Bucky stood by the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob, a sudden wave of emotion washed over him once his gaze fell on Jason for the 5th time this morning. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving without expressing the depth of his feelings and gratitude towards the man.

He didn't know if he would retreat or regret this later on, however at the moment, he didn't care to dwell on those thoughts.

With a swift and decisive movement, Bucky turned around, closing the distance between them in an instant. A finger hung under the blonde's chin, staring into each other's eyes. Without a second later, his lips met Jason's with a gentle and tender touch, a silent testament to the unspoken words that lingered between them.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as they shared the intimate embrace, the weight of their emotions hanging heavy in the air.

Jason's initial surprise quickly melted into a reciprocal response, his body instinctively leaning in to meet Bucky's kiss. Their lips moved together in a dance of longing and affection, each moment filled with a sense of warmth and belonging that neither wanted to let go of.

When they finally parted, there was a softness in their smiles, an understanding that transcended words. It was a silent agreement, a shared moment of mutual affection and longing that bound them together in ways they couldn't fully comprehend.

A couple of milliseconds past, standing there in pure silence.

Bucky once turned to leave, a smile graced his lips, his heart filled with a newfound sense of peace and contentment. The door closed behind as he turned towards the steps leading himself to the first floor of the hotel.

Jason watched him go, still slightly breathless from the unexpected kiss, a part of him couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself, shaking his head in disbelief at the whirlwind of emotions that had swept over them both.

And as they went their separate ways, the memory of that fleeting moment lingered in the air, a reminder of the small yet somehow profound connection they shared...

//

Ahhh! Couldn't resist writing for this unexacting pairing, this has been in my drafts for a year now and decided to finally post it. Anyways let me know what you think. Remember to like, comment and share

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @cherrysft @rickb-chaos @starkleila @infinetlyforgotten @meiramel @sherloquestea @buckysteveloki-me @yetanotherwells @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs @xgoddessoffandomsx

[rabbitbonesandsheabutter]

If you do requests at all, can you do a yandere longlegs oneshot? Like a lobg one...IM THIRSTY ✋🏻😩

this isnt really that long but i’m giving you two times dale jorked it creepy style.

tw - kind of somno, stalking, voyeurism, breaking in?? idk i think that covers it

———

Finding a window to get through had been the easiest part. Soundlessly making his way into your room not much harder. He’d already wandered aimlessly through your home when you weren’t there, leaving with a few souvenirs. But this time there was purpose to his visit. He wanted to see you, without you being able to step away when he got too close for comfort.

Standing in your doorway, he could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest from under the covers and had to steel himself to not wake you. As he stepped closer, his breath hitched at the view of your sleeping face, almost unable to control his excitement. Inching even closer with practiced ease, he knelt down to face you, wanting to take in as much detail as possible. The fine hairs dusting your skin, the light hum of your breathing, your closed eyes shifting. What could you be dreaming? Naively, he thought, he wished it was of him. The most you’d acknowledged him was a polite smile and short replies to whatever thought he blurted out when he saw you. Still more than anyone else had bothered in a long time. You had laughed once, more than just a courteous huff, he had made you properly laugh. Every night since he had lain awake thinking of ways to do it again.

And now he was here with you. This close, the smell of you was so much stronger than what lingered on his growing collection of your clothes. Ghosting his hands ever so slightly over the curve of your hip through your covers, he resisted the urge to claw into you and never let go. Instead, his other hand dropped down to palm at his growing bulge. Taking deep, slow breaths to steady himself, he let his hand travel up your torso and over your chest. His fingertips reaching up for your neck, where he was sure he could see your pulse.

You stirred abruptly. Huffing and readjusting in your sleep. He jumped back, hiding behind the doorframe again. Unsure how much more it would take to wake you, he pulled his fly back up reluctantly and crept out the way he came. After a miserable walk back to his parked car, he slid into the driver’s seat and reached into his pocket. The underwear you had worn today and tossed onto the top of your laundry - he smiled giddily as he brought it up to his face. Inhaling deeply, his other hand raced back down to his aching dick, making quick work of freeing himself. It didn’t take long for him to finish, thrusting erratically up into his fist and spilling across his knuckles. Taking a few last breaths, he took your underwear from his face and wiped the dashboard clean of his mess. Then he folded it neatly, putting it carefully in the glovebox. Key back in the ignition and music on, he pulled onto the road, already planning his next visit.

———

Through the crack in the door he watched you. Your head turned away, he could just see the side of your face and your outline under the blanket, but that was enough. The light from your TV casting a glow over you, dim enough for you to not make him out even if you did turn around.

Just like every other time he found himself in your house, he couldn’t help but let his hand wander to palm at himself, not willing to risk the sound of unbuckling his belt. Rocking his hips into his hand as he kept watching you. Images of you replacing his hand ran through his mind. Your mouth, your hands, anything. He thought of you standing from where you lay now, walking right up and dropping to your knees begging to take care of him, wanting to make him feel good.

Still on your sofa, you giggled at something on the screen and he cursed himself for missing what caused it. Biting down on his free hand to keep quiet, he pressed his palm down firmer, ignoring the sting of friction. The hours he’d spent hiding while you went through your at evening routine meant he was already close. After all that time waiting for release even this felt overstimulating, tears streaking down his face. Your face turned ever so slightly more towards him, he could make out your smile. As much as he adored it, he couldn’t help but imagine wiping it off your face. Gripping your hair and making you watch him come apart, showing you the effect you had on him. Watching your mouth fall open while he fucked you and hearing you cry out for more, tears streaked down your face while you beg for him. That was enough to send him reeling, the tang of his blood in his mouth as he curled in on himself and bit down harder. Taking in slow stuttering breaths in an attempt to stay silent, when could stand he leant back against the wall out of sight. Pretending that instead of your cold hallway, he was curled up with you under your blanket.

After a short while you rose from your spot and shuffled along to your room. Creeping out of your way, he couldn’t help but grin as he watched your sleepy face from the other end of the corridor. From a few feet away he carefully took note of all your bedtime rituals, and finally came to rest against your doorway when the lights were all off. He waited patiently until your breath deepened and he was sure you were asleep to step lightly up to your bed, kneeling to bring himself closer to your face. Reaching out slowly, he touched his fingertips to your face, gliding over the skin of your cheek gently. So soft under his calloused hands, he suppressed a laugh, almost not believing where he was despite this being far from his first visit. Far from even his first time touching you. Lost tracing patterns lightly across any skin he could reach.

Minutes turned to hours without you stirring, he thought you must know his touch by now. Still kneeling despite the growing ache in his knees, he inched even further forward. Holding his breath and laying his head lightly on the space next to your head, eyes blown wide as he watched for any sign of you waking. After several more moments of calm, he relaxed into the softness of your pillow, ignoring the strain of the odd angle. Too wrapped up in you to care about anything but your soft breaths fanning over his face. Once again he lost track of how long he stayed frozen like that, deep in the fantasy of waking up to you beside him, getting to climb in next to you every night. Until the first sounds of birds started, and the room began to lighten. He peeled himself from your pillow and stood, taking one last long look at you before he crept away once more.

———

Hours later, as you rifled through your post, you noticed a small plain envelope unsealed with no address. You pulled out a card, the faint waft of a floral perfume coming with it. On the front was a cherub surrounded by hearts, opening it up, you found a string of carefully inscribed but unreadable symbols.

[velvetures]

AU Continuation: Perimeter Security

a.n.: Thank you to everyone who left comments, and gave this love! I hope to write more! This is thanks to @3dumbass and their suggestions.

summary: living with the 141 has its perks, and built-in security is one of them. it’s just not always easy for them to determine who’s actually a threat.

AU: The 141 are at risk due to personal files being compromised. They’re laying low at a low-risk location until further notice.

tags?: Simon x 3rd person coded relationship, strangers, tension, well-meaning anger, protectiveness, misunderstanding.

Snow made everything on the ridge lines slow down. Thick, icy, blankets camouflaged roads and halted the daily movement of simple life. The mail didn’t run, and neither did the school busses in town. It was as if the whole mountain slept in for weeks at a time when this kind of weather trudged in over the skyline. Freezing water pipes -if you didn’t know to turn the tap on a little- and draining the battery in your vehicle leaving you stranded for days at a time. It’s what made a wood-burning stove a lifesaver and why the ornate Art Garland sitting in the living room more of a necessity than a gilded cast-iron luxury from 1898.

But getting firewood was a whole different experience… especially when the task force took up residence and experience their first winter with Price and Laswell’s goddaughter.

She did well to provide for herself. Not just well, really, better than that. Everything she could manage alone was done without any assistance, and she never complained about much. They all assumed it came from living in such a remote place. That she couldn’t rely on anyone and never got spoiled to living easily. What she couldn’t -or simply didn’t- want to manage, the locals down in town helped with by beaters, trades, or well-kept favors that just kept being passed back and forth.

Just another one of those slowed-down things that made a whole lot of sense in her life, but set the 141’s teeth on edge.

They could rely on each other and do just fine most of the time. But individually and as a squad, it made all of them feel inadequate beyond comprehension asking for or requiring help. And like with her was just one of the stinging wounds they couldn’t quite heal up. Seeing her trade strawberries for corn or a rough-sewn quilt for a hand-made kitchen knife was dignified enough… they just didn’t understand fully how deep the lifestyle ran.

Ghost’s encounter with “Bear” put that much more tension on the dynamic.

***

She’d been inside bent over a pot of soup for nearly the whole morning. Steam curling over her reddened cheeks and sucking up through the range hood when the faint sound of a truck came spinning up the steep snow-covered driveway. A flatbed with a steel-cage welded to the bed and stacks of wood covered with a blue tarp in the back with fraying bungee cords. A familiar sight for her since the man driving always brought her firewood when the weather got too cold to go and do it herself. Or when she’d been regrettably lazy… and didn’t feel like it either.

Barrett “Bear” Stephens. A real outdoorsman and not more than a couple years older than her. Most people around town thought he was a real prick since he didn’t talk much and kept to himself out on West Run Ridge. But she liked him well enough. Trusted him to let him in her house for dinner as thanks for keeping her house warm and always waved when she saw him in the grocery store despite the guarantee he wouldn’t aside her back. Hearing his truck ambling up through driveway wasn’t anything new.

It’s why she forgot to mention it to anyone else.

“Damn freezing out here,” He spit with gritted teeth, sliding out of the truck in four layers of coats. “You’re real lucky the biscuits you make are worth this shit.”

She couldn’t help but stifle a smile. Shifting back and forth to stave off the cold while wearing less than half of what Bear was. Only having come out to greet him since it was below freezing. Normally she’d leave him to drop off her bundles of kindling without the harassment of making him talk. But the snow was deep, and she felt guilty not at least helping him for a moment. Maybe it was good luck that she had though. Because Bear didn’t even make it to the back of the flatbed when a solid black figure smoothly appeared from the opposite side. Black steel glinting in evening light and the black hole of a rifled pistol aimed right at him.

She stopped dead in her tracks. The mistake washing over her seeing Ghost standing there in the scary-as-hell mask, with a white skull framed by a black hoodie and positive white snow all around him. Fuck, even the steam from his breath smoked out of the mask like he was fucking burning from the inside out and letting off pressure before he exploded. His eyes were dead and cold. Staring down the mountain man who’d came to just as still of a position. She was certain Ghost was the only one breathing.

“You’re not welcome,” his thick burred voice sounded more gritty than normal. Maybe from the cold weather… she’d not seen him inside her house in days. “Suggest you leave.”

Bear didn’t say a word, but his rapid nod of his head was enough to thaw her out. Stop this before it got any uglier than Ghost’s .45 making a damn-good threat.

“Wait! He’s… he’s here on purpose!” The excuse can’t great. There could be plenty of reasons he came with intent and then not be positive. “I needed him!”

The stiffness in Ghost miraculously gets worse. Frost in his wide shoulders turning to blue ice and that darkness in his eyes sharpening like flint from sloped hills behind the house. It made him more pissed, and she didn’t have the slightest idea of how to fix it.

He was cagey at the best of times. Like he’d bristle if he had fur on his back or bare fangs if he had the choice to. She hated making any of that anger show, but there wasn’t a better option right now. Besides… it was her damn house. She could have whoever she pleased so long as she thought they were safe. John had made it clear there wouldn’t be any restrictions unless something serious came up. And having visitors weren’t one of them. Especially since. Bear wasn’t coming in the house.

She’d been quite set in that decision anyways. Bear wasn’t the nosey type anyways. He didn’t talk much, did his job, and left. But that didn’t mean Ghost knew it. And his pistol didn’t even waver a centimeter even after she spoke.

“This… this yours?” Bear’s voice sounded shaky. His teeth unclenched and irritation with the cold wind dissolved. His question made her antsy. There were too many answers, and none of them felt right in her head.

“Long story,” she decided, taking a rounded pathway around Bear and towards Ghost. Purposefully staying far away from that damn pistol he felt still necessary to have out.

“He can be-”

“Lethal.”

Ghost’s interjection made her wince.

“Enough of that!” She snaps back, hissing and feeling the hot air freeze in front of her lips. “Let him drop off the firewood, and he’ll leave.”

One look back at Bear and she could see the slight confusion in his otherwise guarded expression. There was no chance in hell she was letting Ghost just disappear off somewhere after this. He couldn’t just point-blank threaten people. Bear was who kept the damn house warm half the winter whether she liked it or not. And Ghost couldn’t fuck it up just because he’d not been explicitly told anything.

“How ‘bout we lend a hand?”

Soap and Gaz walking up nearly gave her a heart attack. One of them was bad enough. Two more? Her faith in Bear not running and telling anyone who would listen about her was stretching thin. The grocery store, all three churches, and the fire department would think she was in a reverse harem by the end of the month. Even if Soap was already helping himself to the stacks of bundled wood in the back, this interaction felt centuries long with no hope of ending.

“Just three.” She finally gets the warning out, seeing Gaz going for a fourth bundle. He just nods, setting it back down and shooting a quite civil nod in the man’s direction.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” He adds, looking over the tall stacks. “How much?”

“Ten dollars a bundle.” Bear sounds half ready to pass out.

Gaz promptly drops the one he’s carrying and pulls out a wallet like he’s got no problem with Ghost still standing there like a human-centry gun. Pulling out a twenty and holding it out in his hand.

Is this some sort of fucking peace treaty?

Ghost only moves to holster his weapon after Bear takes the money and mutters something about ‘help yourself’ before shutting himself back inside the can of the truck without another word. Tension easing with each moment Soap spends stacking his arms tall with dry, red cedar and sycamore. She doesn’t even know where to begin. Wondering where John was. Wanting to know where Ghost had been. Why he’d even approached in the first place.

“I need a word with you.”

She can’t bring herself to do anything but stare out at Bear’s truck hightailing it off her property as she addresses Ghost. Hearing his very heavy boots creaking on the porch. He doesn’t say a word, but it’s clear once Gaz and Soap leave for inside that he’s not standing behind her for his own enjoyment.

“Do you have any idea what you might’ve just screwed up?” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own. It’s mad, sure. But almost panicked in a sense. The reality of the situation hitting her harder because she vividly remembered winter before the help. And it wasn’t pretty. Recent snows had been stable and quite pleasant actually. And Ghost nearly made target practice out of her own sure solution.

“Very aware,” that damn voice sounded too smooth. “Who is he?”

Another thick billow of fog curls out of her mouth. “Who he is, isn’t important. Keeping my fucking house from freezing is.” She can feel her fingers starting to prick from the cold even inside her coat.

“Don’t care for nameless men.” He counters just as seemingly unbothered.

If she could physically force herself to turn around and face him head-on, she would. But his utter disregard made it intimidating. Too much to handle.

“Jesus Christ….” She muttered, head dropping to thump against a porch post. “Barrett Stephens. We call him Bear.” It felt defeating to be forced to answer him like this.

Ghost’s boots strain the porch as he walks towards the firewood hoops. The sound of dry bark ready to catch an ember cracking and scratching as he moves it.

“Almost killed himself…”

“Yeah,” She chuckles dryly, biting the inside of her cheek and spinning around with some real anger. “M’sure the coroner would love to know how he got ahold of the pistol you have tucked in your fuckin’ jeans.”

That massive man turned on himself just as quickly. Closing a multiple-yard distance in just a couple long strides. His breathing heavier and that thick smoke trailing from the stitch-seams in his mask.

“Gonna get yourself killed too…” He warns. Low, and just like the wolf she pictured him being. Bared teeth, dilated eyes and all.

“Stop growlin’ at me…” The words come out of her mouth before she even thinks about how wrong it is. “Actin’ like a damn dog.”

He’s fast. So fast.

Hauling her backwards against the porch banister and towering high above her head with a low, and heavy sort of breath fizzling out in his chest. It’s the most threatening he’s been so far. And she can’t tell just how far she can continue to stand her ground without things truly getting ugly. Even her fingers have stopped tingling from the cold with just how fast her blood is pumping. Force feeding oxygen to her brain. Desperate to find a way to run from an inescapable situation she’d created.

“Mind tellin’ me where you got this idea to talk back to me, creeker?”

“When you started throwin’ that gun around like you have the right.”

The fear didn’t keep her mouth shut. Digging an even deeper grave all because he kept using that stupid fucking nickname. Pushing buttons and making it that much harder to be understanding of why he was always so bitter. Nothing she’d done had made a difference so far. And the patience she’d saved specifically for him was waning.

Ghost just chuckled, his head rolling to the side and the gloved hands gripping her coat tightened.

“The right?” It was almost impossible to imagine anything other than a smirk under that mask.

“Oh… I certainly have the right to defend what’s mine.”

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